07-09-2012, 08:57 PM
It was dark and rainy when he had left the town surrounding Ravenwood Manor. As far as he could remember, his days in that town were dark and rainy. Well, not always rainy. But the alleys were always dark, and he was always dirty. He didn't remember a father or a mother. There was never a memory of a dry roof over his head. In fact, the boy didn't even remember his name. Was he even given a name? His days never passed in a blur, but they soon became so similar that he had trouble distinguishing one day from the next. Each day he would wake up on a garbage bag, they were softer than the concrete and dirt floor. Each day he would go out and beg the baker for a piece of stale bread. Some days the baker would take pity on him and give him a burnt crust. Most days the boy would get the sole of the baker's feet. The baker had a name, he was important. The boy didn't. He wasn't.
Each hour passed by agonizingly slow as hunger ate the boy inside out. The nights were worse; they were cold. As the days became shorter, the nights become longer. And colder. One night it was so cold the boy was shivering as he stumbled down the streets. Through the mist of his short, frosty breaths, he saw the baker's house. It looked so warm, the boy thought as he stumbled towards it. So very warm. He peered in through the window and saw the baker talking to an old man. Beside the old man, half hidden through his legs, was a boy about the same age as the one freezing outside in the cold. But the boy inside the house was cleaner, warmer, and the boy with no name bet that boy inside never suffered from lack of food.
Why, thought the boy as his grip on the window slipped as he fell into a puddle. The door opened suddenly, startling the puddle-soaked boy. His eyes widened as he made eye contact with the boy hiding behind the old man's legs. "Now, Hataru," the old man said, giving the shivering boy on the floor a cold glance. "We need to go back to the manor." And the two people left, leaving the dirty boy with no name behind. Shivering, soaked, abandoned.
It was raining when the boy had left the town, unable to bear the feelings inside him any longer. The day he left was like any other day. He bet the townspeople didn't even notice he was gone, not even the baker with the important name. The boy couldn't remember how far he walked, or in what direction. All he knew was that he walked when he could, and slept when he couldn't. He ate when he could and starved when he couldn't. And then, one day, he was given a flower. It was a different day, that day. The sun was shining and the sky was bright. Not at all like the days he had remembered.
"I'm Sophy, what is ya name?" the girl with the flower asked. The boy stared at her in confusion. But before he could open his mouth to answer, she ran away. She was no different, he thought. She left, too. The boy watched her leave. She had so much energy, so much happiness. Why was that? He saw her turn around and call something at him, but he didn't understand her. Why was she talking to him? No one talked to him. He stood there, flower in hand, and a second later he was no longer standing. Exhaustion and hunger had finally won and the boy collapsed onto the floor. This floor was different, he thought as he slowly went unconscious. It wasn't as hard.
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