Survival of the fittest - by Crunch
Oh, just an odd and . . . well just an odd little fic, for the heck of it. I thought it was alright, dunno if you guys will. . .
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They found him frozen to death; skin taught and gray, lips tinged a bruise- colored blue, eyes squeezed shut against the unforgiving cold gripping his lungs and stopping his heart.
Did I say they? I meant I. I found him.
He wasn't a friend of mine. My friends were too strong, too charming, and too resourceful to curl up in the streets and freeze. No, he was just a fellow newsie I'd passed on the streets- I never knew his name or his pape. Just one of my fellow lost sheep; a ten year old, raven-haired immigrant, with big, shiny eyes so dark they were nearly black, and dimples I'd have thought would keep money in his pockets for years. That's why I hadn't felt too badly about stealing his selling spot. Survival of the fittest, right?
It had only been for one day, anyways. That day probably wouldn't have made a difference in his fate.
Probably.
I stood shivering in the waning daylight over his body, searching the small child huddled up against the grimy, rusted brick wall of an alleyway, chin resting on his small, knobbly knees, for signs of life. I didn't cry of course - tears wouldn't have brought him back, and in this vicious wind that sucked the breath from your body and pounced on any signs of weakness, they would've made me even colder.
With a last, regretful sigh I turned away, hoping to reach the lodging house before the last fiery blossoms of sunlight faded from the night sky. Without the coins jangling happily in my pockets, coins earned from a long day of hawking papes in my stolen selling spot, I'd be facing another night underneath the storm drains of Irving hall, cold and penniless.
Shuffling through alleyways and cutting through parks, I made my way home, trying to ignore the growling in my stomach and the guilt gnawing at my conscience. It really wasn't my fault, I told myself. I had every right to that spot - it's just the way things go. You gotta look out for yourself these days, cause noone else will.
And I can't afford to be a kid anymore.
As I reached the Lodging house - home sweet home, I caught sight of a tiny, hunched figure, chomping on the last of a cigar and dealing a deck of grubby, fraying cards onto the steps. He was playing by himself, I realized.
"Hey, Racetrack." I mumbled exaustedly. My lips were so numb from the cold, they didn't seem to be forming words right.
"Ey, hows it rollin', Jack?"
"Not so good." I plopped down on the icy wooden steps besides him. The story of the last few hours flowed from my lips, which seemed to be working just fine by now. Maybe too fine. "So I left 'im dere. On da sidewalk, all curled up, fah da bulls ta find." I finished, questions of my own future plaguing my thoughts. Race, who's a lot smarter then he acts, and a hell of a lot more compassionate then he looks, must have read my mind. Or more likely, my face.
With a kind of wistful smile, Race sighed and patted my stooped and shivering back. "You'll make it out, Jack. Your one of da good ones."
Though his faith was a bit comforting, just a bit, I shook my head in despair, gazing out into the quickly darkening cobblestone streets. "I dunno how I'm gonna do dat."
"Easy. One day at a time. Soah, you'll have bad days, so bad youse might wish it was you curled up agains' dat wall."
"Boy, I hope so. . ." I grinned wryly.
"But one day. . ." As I watched, his velvety dark eyes gleamed with a new hope - hope for me, and maybe hope for himself. "One day youse gonna look aroun' an' realize you're dere. You're free. You've reached da light at da end of da tunnel, ya know?"
I snorted, shifting uncomfortably in the shower of wisdom I hadn't known Race possessed. I'd have thought the streets would've crushed it out of him by now. "Yeah, right. I'se so low, I'd have ta work me way up jus' ta find da tunnel."
"I know dat, Jack. But don' worry, you'll make it. Cos guys like you, dey wasn't made fah dis kind a life. You was made fah somethin' bettah." He looked me in the eye. "You'll be great, Jack."
After a long, awkward pause that left me reeling in the power of Race's words, he stretched himself to full height. Of course, he didn't have far to stretch. "See ya inside, Brudda."
"Yeah. . ." I mumbled towards his hunched back. "Yeah."
Survival of the fittest.
Well hey, I'm a lot stronger then I look. We all are.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
See? See, theres hope! I'm not that cruel. Ah, just the next addition to my rather over abundant series of crappy-one-chappies, hope you enjoyed it! Or atleast, I hope it didn't leave you a confused puddle of bitterness, but in anycase, REVIEW!!! Help feed race!muse, he's looking a little hungry lately. *shies away from race!muse, who eyes her bagle greedily*. REVIEW!!!
Oh, just an odd and . . . well just an odd little fic, for the heck of it. I thought it was alright, dunno if you guys will. . .
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
They found him frozen to death; skin taught and gray, lips tinged a bruise- colored blue, eyes squeezed shut against the unforgiving cold gripping his lungs and stopping his heart.
Did I say they? I meant I. I found him.
He wasn't a friend of mine. My friends were too strong, too charming, and too resourceful to curl up in the streets and freeze. No, he was just a fellow newsie I'd passed on the streets- I never knew his name or his pape. Just one of my fellow lost sheep; a ten year old, raven-haired immigrant, with big, shiny eyes so dark they were nearly black, and dimples I'd have thought would keep money in his pockets for years. That's why I hadn't felt too badly about stealing his selling spot. Survival of the fittest, right?
It had only been for one day, anyways. That day probably wouldn't have made a difference in his fate.
Probably.
I stood shivering in the waning daylight over his body, searching the small child huddled up against the grimy, rusted brick wall of an alleyway, chin resting on his small, knobbly knees, for signs of life. I didn't cry of course - tears wouldn't have brought him back, and in this vicious wind that sucked the breath from your body and pounced on any signs of weakness, they would've made me even colder.
With a last, regretful sigh I turned away, hoping to reach the lodging house before the last fiery blossoms of sunlight faded from the night sky. Without the coins jangling happily in my pockets, coins earned from a long day of hawking papes in my stolen selling spot, I'd be facing another night underneath the storm drains of Irving hall, cold and penniless.
Shuffling through alleyways and cutting through parks, I made my way home, trying to ignore the growling in my stomach and the guilt gnawing at my conscience. It really wasn't my fault, I told myself. I had every right to that spot - it's just the way things go. You gotta look out for yourself these days, cause noone else will.
And I can't afford to be a kid anymore.
As I reached the Lodging house - home sweet home, I caught sight of a tiny, hunched figure, chomping on the last of a cigar and dealing a deck of grubby, fraying cards onto the steps. He was playing by himself, I realized.
"Hey, Racetrack." I mumbled exaustedly. My lips were so numb from the cold, they didn't seem to be forming words right.
"Ey, hows it rollin', Jack?"
"Not so good." I plopped down on the icy wooden steps besides him. The story of the last few hours flowed from my lips, which seemed to be working just fine by now. Maybe too fine. "So I left 'im dere. On da sidewalk, all curled up, fah da bulls ta find." I finished, questions of my own future plaguing my thoughts. Race, who's a lot smarter then he acts, and a hell of a lot more compassionate then he looks, must have read my mind. Or more likely, my face.
With a kind of wistful smile, Race sighed and patted my stooped and shivering back. "You'll make it out, Jack. Your one of da good ones."
Though his faith was a bit comforting, just a bit, I shook my head in despair, gazing out into the quickly darkening cobblestone streets. "I dunno how I'm gonna do dat."
"Easy. One day at a time. Soah, you'll have bad days, so bad youse might wish it was you curled up agains' dat wall."
"Boy, I hope so. . ." I grinned wryly.
"But one day. . ." As I watched, his velvety dark eyes gleamed with a new hope - hope for me, and maybe hope for himself. "One day youse gonna look aroun' an' realize you're dere. You're free. You've reached da light at da end of da tunnel, ya know?"
I snorted, shifting uncomfortably in the shower of wisdom I hadn't known Race possessed. I'd have thought the streets would've crushed it out of him by now. "Yeah, right. I'se so low, I'd have ta work me way up jus' ta find da tunnel."
"I know dat, Jack. But don' worry, you'll make it. Cos guys like you, dey wasn't made fah dis kind a life. You was made fah somethin' bettah." He looked me in the eye. "You'll be great, Jack."
After a long, awkward pause that left me reeling in the power of Race's words, he stretched himself to full height. Of course, he didn't have far to stretch. "See ya inside, Brudda."
"Yeah. . ." I mumbled towards his hunched back. "Yeah."
Survival of the fittest.
Well hey, I'm a lot stronger then I look. We all are.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
See? See, theres hope! I'm not that cruel. Ah, just the next addition to my rather over abundant series of crappy-one-chappies, hope you enjoyed it! Or atleast, I hope it didn't leave you a confused puddle of bitterness, but in anycase, REVIEW!!! Help feed race!muse, he's looking a little hungry lately. *shies away from race!muse, who eyes her bagle greedily*. REVIEW!!!