|Mary Faber on the Streets of London
Author: SwimmyTheDolphin PM
Mary Faber on the streets of London.Rated: Fiction T - English - Adventure - Words: 506 - Reviews: 3 - Published: 06-13-10 - id: 6050094
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
MY FIRST STORY DON'T JUDGE ME
Loud thwacks resounded through the alleyway as my bare feet slapped the ground. I looked back into the gloom of night and, sure enough, I spotted a figure following me. Suddenly, I tripped. Under my breath I cursed myself for looking back. The figure closed in, shouting something unintelligible. He's obviously had a few drinks this night, I thought. I scrambled to get up. The man lunged, catching my ankle and dragging me to the ground. Lashing out with my foot, I screamed for help. My foot connected with his face and there was a small crack! He did not get up.
I pressed myself against the alley wall, the cold dampness seeping through my rags that barely passed for clothes. There was a musty, whiskey smell emanating from the person on the ground. Keeping myself pressed flat against the wall, I slowly turned my head from side to side to see if any of this gentleman's friends had followed him. Spotting no one, I quickly rushed over to the body and flipped the coat up. There was his shiny wallet.
"Charlie!" I yelled, "There's a fortune in here!" Charlie, from my family the Charlie Rooster Gang, appeared like a flash at my side. "Great work, Mary," he replied, slapping me on the back. "We will dine like kings tonight."
While the other's cased out the rest the man on the ground before he woke up, I curled up in the corner. How had it come to this? A poor orphan girl begging on the streets of London ~ oh right; That Dark Day. Seeing my father, mother, and little sister's bodies carted off to be dissected by 19th century scientists left me with no home, no money. A girl left on the streets to die. It was a good thing that Charlie picked me up and took me under his wing, or I might have.
I was scared. That strange man could have hurt me. I was lucky to have escaped. The police were not our friends; they would never help out useless street rats. The older men in shadier parts of London were free to do as they pleased with the wild children.
Suddenly I heard a scream. It was one of the other little girls in the Charlie Rooster Gang. "Run! Everyone run! They are here!"
Oh no! I thought to myself. I turned around to run, but a strong arm wrapped around my stomach before I had the chance to make it two feet. "I gotcha, dirty little thief!" A man's voice shouted into my ear. Even though I struggled and kicked and squirmed, he wouldn't let go. A rough hand picked me up as if I was a sack of grain and threw me into the back of a cart. My hands were bound with rope. Trying to wriggle out and over the side got me a knock in the head with a wooden bat. Everything went black.