A life is never truly, true.
A small boy could be found in a small cage. And if one were to look at the boy, one would realize that this boy seemed to be praying, for he was on his knees, head bent down, and his hands were folded in his lap. Then again if one were to know this boy one would know that this boy does not pray. For a few months ago, about 3 to be exact, when he was brought here, he had lost faith.
Yes it had been 3 long, tiring months that this small boy had been caged up. His once light blond hair now seemed to be black, or brunet, from the dirt and lack of washing. The rest of his body also seemed as if he had been playing in a box of dirt, the kind you would find at a park, not quite sand, not quite soil. The boy's clothes were ripped a bit, but with a T-shirt and baggy pants it seems almost fitting. The boy also had a long scar going across his right cheek, the scar being about 3 inches. He had another going across his left shoulder and right arm, both being only 2 inches. He looked up, and sighed. His almost snake like blue eyes seemed to dart everywhere at once. He seemed quite scared. Not the "going-to-pee-your-pants-scared", the kind of scared you get when someone bigger than you towers above you. He ignored it. The boys name you ask? For one might never know, unless one was killed by this brutal boy, for he would engrave his name upon your limbs. But, since he cannot reach you, what with being in a cage and chained up, I will tell you. Don't tell him though: Danny. I highly suggest not calling him Dan though, or Danny boy. ~Narrator disappears into the shadows~
In the path of life, I am my own main character.