“Well, well, well, I heard from the boys y’all got somin’ good?”
A burly, tattered robes-covered man at the front of the pack spoke out. He was the one that threw Gah Gu. I could feel my anger begin to build up. How dare they? How DARE they do that to Gah Gu. I began to get up, but another one from the posy grabbed my shoulder and slammed me down. I could hear a ringing noise in my head from the impact on the floor, held down and draggy I couldn’t do anything.
The burly man proceeded to pick up Gah Gu with his right hand and swung at the old man with his left. The sound of flesh smashing flesh, bones creaking, and that oh so subtle snap; I don’t know what dumpster this hobo has been eating from, but it really did him right.
Gah Gu began to cough up blood and was thrown to the side of the alley.
“Where is it!”
The man yelled out. My vision blurred, the oncoming tears attempting to break through the dam, tears of rage, indignation, and sadness.
“It’s... right here.”
I whimpered out as I reached into my pants and pulled out the hat. The man ran at me and ripped it out of my hands, looked in, and smiled. It was a horrendous smile, one that showed off his missing teeth along with green-stained molars. He approached Gah Gu and spoke.
“That wasin’ so hard, was it?”
He reached Gah Gu and kicked him. Gah Gu skidded across the floor and remained still and motionless. The man laughed as he and his posy went deeper into the alley. I crawled over to Gah Gu, the ringing finally subsiding from my ears. Once the noise was gone, only silence followed, an eery silence, one that threatened to break at any moment, so I broke it.
“They’re gone, Gah Gu. You can get up now.”
No response.
“Come on, Gah Gu, I’ll get you some medicine tomorrow and some good food. Please.. just get up.”
The cracks along the dam had finally succumbed to the pressure, and I couldn’t hold back the tears that flowed down my face, yet they didn’t take the pain away. They seemed to intensify it, like wood fueling a flame; the pain only grew. I could feel my heart drop, so I raised my hand to my chest, trying to clutch at it and hold it together. My lungs began to give out. Dry heaving was the only sound my mouth could make. I reached out once again, this time over to Gah Gu’s neck, to try and find a pulse.
“Isn’t my birthday tomorrow Gah Gu?”
No pulse answered my touch. Only the cold skin of the man who was always by my side, although he didn’t say much apart from his teachings and was strict, he was still there. A presence can do so much, and now that presence is gone. I buried my face into his chest and mourned for the rest of the night.
…
The sun hung high in the sky, looking down at me. Mocking me like a deity who didn’t feel pity but rather shame that it had to shine down upon someone like me.
“Last night was pretty rough, wasn’t it, Gah Gu.”
I looked over towards the old man in the corner, huddled in a thin cloth. His head and shoulder resting against the wall so that his body wouldn’t crumble down.
“Alright, Gah Gu I’m gonna see if I can get us some more coins or food.”
A slight breeze managed to move Gah Gu’s head just enough, causing it to fall along with the rest of his body. Laying on the floor motionless, I simply stared at him for a while.
My stomach began to growl at me like a dog, biting at my insides, demanding I move and get food. Finally, I left the scene and went to my usual spot, this time without my hat, and sat down.
My body felt cold. No matter how much sunlight reached my skin, it didn’t fill me with warmth. I sat there curled up for hours. Hunger eating away at me, yet I didn’t have the strength, to even get up.
So, I relied on something other than strength, something deep within that urged me forward. I willed myself to get up. Once standing, I ignored the aching of my soul and zoned in on a necessity: food. I could wait all day and hope for some alms… or I could simply go and get it myself. Strange how under the right circumstances, one comes to do what one never thought they would.
…
The first rule of thievery, as I see it, there’s a difference between theft and robbery. In my current state, I can’t just rob someone. Even a little kid could beat me to a pulp. But, the art of theft is… only taking what another isn’t paying attention to; I’m merely bringing in what someone else has neglected, no harm done.
My target for today is little Tommy, which is the made-up name I gave him. He’s a bit on the chunkier side with curly black hair, peanut-coloured skin, and wide brown eyes that hold a hint of naivety in them. The most crucial detail is that in his hand, he’s carrying a bag of bread that also has some… adult juice packed on the side.
Tommy would roam around, going from food stall to food stall staring, sniffing, and ultimately judging if it was worth a taste. I kept following him at a distance, waiting for an opportunity; I didn’t have to wait long.
“Hmmm, sir can I get two of those kebabs… no, make it four.”
“Oh, well, if it isn’t Renold’s boy... I could give you a whole pack if you manage to get me, say, one of your dad’s weapons.”
“Oh, I don’t know… well, maybe… no, no. You drive a hard bargain, but I’ll just take my eight kebabs.”
The stallholder, seemingly satisfied with Tommy’s answer, took the boy’s money and handed him the kebabs.
“Say… isn’t that your bag?”
“What do you me- HEY, STOP, IT’S A THIEF!”
At the moment Tommy left his bag to the side to grab the kebabs, the bag cried out to me, unattended and lonely it simply wanted to fall into my embrace, the embrace of someone who would genuinely care for it, so how could I deny it? I picked it up and ran.
Running was excruciatingly painful. My lungs felt like fire, my body telling me I was clearly doing something terribly unlawful and wrong: something no being should torment themselves doing… The running is what I’m referring to, the theft: not so much.
I pulled a bread piece out of the bag as I turned to avoid an oncoming old lady. Once past her, I put the bread in my mouth. To my surprise, running and eating don’t really mix well together. The bread dried my already parched throat. Breathing was beginning to feel like a dream which would never come, and behind me, little Tommy was catching up.
I did what any wise man would do in such a desperate situation; I cracked open a cold one. The cap came off easily… Tommy seemed to have already awoken an appeal to this adult juice. With the bottle open, I brought it to my lips.
“NOOOOOOO!”
Tommy’s desperate cry landed on deaf ears as the precious nectar began to fill my mouth. The bitter taste, the weird smell that dug deep into my nostrils, along with the burning sensation that was starting to tingle at my throat, made it unbearable. I could feel my cheeks puff out as I was about to begin the act of clearing it from my mouth, but I couldn’t.
A cold sensation spread across my face, an instinct. A psychological warning that my death was impending, ever near, simply reaching out to pluck my life. I forced my mouth shut and leaned back. There was a soft breeze that wisped around my face, eyes wide; I stared as a grey flash passed where my head once was.
A hammer, mercilessly aimed at my face, crashed against the wall of a poor building that did nothing wrong. It was a decent-sized hammer, and its wielder was a short old man with a crazy thick beard.
The quick manoeuvrer I just pulled cost me dearly. Instead of stopping after I evaded, my already weakened body simply kept falling back. The collision against the ground forced my mouth to split open, and akin to a geyser, the toxic mixture in my mouth spewed forth. Engulfing the old man’s face which stood in its path.
The man looked down at me. Was it a death glare? He brought a finger to his face, slid it across the skin on his cheek, gathering the remnants of the toxin. Then he did the unthinkable and put his finger in his mouth.
“Thomas, please tell me that this boy only has similar tastes. That this is not my drink.”
Little Tommy, or should I say, Thomas, had caught up and was catching his breath.
“huff… listen, dad.. uhmm, I guess he has similar tastes.”
The hammer lit ablaze, literally lit up in flames, as the old man, who never broke eye contact, readied himself to deliver the final blow. Damn Thomas, did he never learn how to lie? Here I am before an old-aged and hairy grim reaper. All I can think about is… how crazy good my naming sense is.
As the man began to raise the hammer, a hand reached out behind him and struck down on his shoulder. The force caused spider-web cracks to break through the ground beneath the old man, who was seemingly unfazed, and a voice spoke out.
“I think that’s enough, Renold.”
Behind the man was the entrance to what seemed a blacksmith shop, and walking out the doorway was a blonde-haired woman with deep blue eyes and a missing arm.
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