This is for a contest. I figured a link would be the easiest way for the judges to read it so I'm putting it up here.
Reviews are still appreciated though.
Skittery Davidson sat crossed legged on the floor, staring up at the world passing by. For the quiet eight year old boy, a busy room was just as good as any horse race or fight on the streets. Skittery was one of the younger boys, but he never played with any of the others. He was always off to the side, hidden in the corner. He preferred to watch rather then jump in on the action.
Most would see this as a problem. There must be something wrong with a boy who doesn't want to play, who hardly ever laughs. But Skittery didn't have problems, he was just different. He was a grown man in a young boy's body and he had a reason for his behavior.
The Davidson's had a baby boy on February 17, 1881. They lived in a small one bedroom apartment for the first five years of Skittery's life. They weren't a very rich family, but they were not poor either: happy, content, and simple.
Eleven months before Skittery's sixth birthday his mother announced that he was going to have a little brother or sister very soon. In the next six months things changed dramatically in Skittery's life. Comfortable was not a state that the Davidson's knew very well anymore. Mr. Davidson lost his job, which resulted in the family having to move to an even tinier apartment. And one day after his parents had many very serious talks in deep, low voices Skittery's father told him to get his cap and jacket and to say goodbye to his mother.
There were tears in her eyes and she was desperately trying to hold them back. Tears would reveal the plan, cause panic, so she smiled and gave her son a hug. His head resting against her bulging belly. She told him to wait, that when things got better he'd come back. But the young boy didn't understand. He just nodded his head in agreement.
His father left him on the steps of an orphanage. He embraced his son and kissed his forehead. As his father walked away terror set in Skittery's stomach. The young boy called out for his father and ran after him; utterly confused by what was going on.
"No Son," his father sadly replied and pointed back to the steps. "This is your new home. Stay here and they'll watch out for you. We'll come and get you soon." Finally a reason for the strange and gloomy situation. Skittery nodded again and slowly turned around. His father watched him knock on the door and wait for an answer. With a tinge of doubt Mr. Davidson walked back down the sidewalk, dismay and guilt washing over him.
Skittery watched his father get lost in the crowd. Hot, salty tears began to sting in his eyes but he stood focused on his father's tall body walking through the crowd. His father was lost in the masses of people now, no longer visible. With that Skittery lost a part of himself.
Soon after being accepted into the orphanage, Skittery was forced out. The church had no more money and the young boy's second home was emptied. He became a newsie, like hundreds of other young boys in the city.
Everyday Skittery asked himself the same question. Were his parents looking for him? Had they gone back to the orphanage in search of him? The answers really didn't matter. It was lost now. Skittery Davidson was now alone.
Reviews are still appreciated though.
Skittery Davidson sat crossed legged on the floor, staring up at the world passing by. For the quiet eight year old boy, a busy room was just as good as any horse race or fight on the streets. Skittery was one of the younger boys, but he never played with any of the others. He was always off to the side, hidden in the corner. He preferred to watch rather then jump in on the action.
Most would see this as a problem. There must be something wrong with a boy who doesn't want to play, who hardly ever laughs. But Skittery didn't have problems, he was just different. He was a grown man in a young boy's body and he had a reason for his behavior.
The Davidson's had a baby boy on February 17, 1881. They lived in a small one bedroom apartment for the first five years of Skittery's life. They weren't a very rich family, but they were not poor either: happy, content, and simple.
Eleven months before Skittery's sixth birthday his mother announced that he was going to have a little brother or sister very soon. In the next six months things changed dramatically in Skittery's life. Comfortable was not a state that the Davidson's knew very well anymore. Mr. Davidson lost his job, which resulted in the family having to move to an even tinier apartment. And one day after his parents had many very serious talks in deep, low voices Skittery's father told him to get his cap and jacket and to say goodbye to his mother.
There were tears in her eyes and she was desperately trying to hold them back. Tears would reveal the plan, cause panic, so she smiled and gave her son a hug. His head resting against her bulging belly. She told him to wait, that when things got better he'd come back. But the young boy didn't understand. He just nodded his head in agreement.
His father left him on the steps of an orphanage. He embraced his son and kissed his forehead. As his father walked away terror set in Skittery's stomach. The young boy called out for his father and ran after him; utterly confused by what was going on.
"No Son," his father sadly replied and pointed back to the steps. "This is your new home. Stay here and they'll watch out for you. We'll come and get you soon." Finally a reason for the strange and gloomy situation. Skittery nodded again and slowly turned around. His father watched him knock on the door and wait for an answer. With a tinge of doubt Mr. Davidson walked back down the sidewalk, dismay and guilt washing over him.
Skittery watched his father get lost in the crowd. Hot, salty tears began to sting in his eyes but he stood focused on his father's tall body walking through the crowd. His father was lost in the masses of people now, no longer visible. With that Skittery lost a part of himself.
Soon after being accepted into the orphanage, Skittery was forced out. The church had no more money and the young boy's second home was emptied. He became a newsie, like hundreds of other young boys in the city.
Everyday Skittery asked himself the same question. Were his parents looking for him? Had they gone back to the orphanage in search of him? The answers really didn't matter. It was lost now. Skittery Davidson was now alone.