It was dark, the new moon casting no light under the dark heavy clouds laden with snow and sleet. The lack of light made it cold. A bitter dry cold that invaded every crevice of everywhere, stealing any and every source of warmth that existed. Stray dogs and rats scampered across snow-covered cobblestone streets, kicking up garbage and digging through dumpsters for scraps. The streets of the town were pretty much empty, only a few drunk people, and a few looking to get wasted stumbling the streets.
In one of the alleyways, a pair of gleaming mismatched eyes was seen. They were low to the ground and very human looking, the eyes of a small child, a girl not any older than 5 or 6. The right eye was a pale blue, so pale it was almost white. The left was the exact opposite, a deep murky and dusty blackish color. The eyes were red-rimmed with deep purple bags set underneath, standing out against the stark white and unhealthily pale skin.
Slim hands covered in dirty mismatched bandaids of princesses, heroes, and animals littered her fingers. Grime covered every exposed inch of her body, covering her in filth. A dirty and patched yellow raincoat was pulled tight over a ratty bomber jacket that was at least 3 sizes too big, the sleeves hanging over her bandaid covered fingertips. What was once a shirt is now a torn, dirt and soot stained shadow of its former self, barely able to hang off her scrawny shoulders like a discarded towel. Her jacket and coat were zipped up over the shirt, hiding the huge chunk that had been ripped from the side, little holes littering the rest of the fabric.
Her pants had seen better times as well. Dirt, soot, and other substances had stained the pants and gave them a new color. But at least she had shoes to protect her feet. Although they're old, rubber red boots that are way too big and there's a hole in the left shoe toe-box which let in water and dirt in the puddles of the cobblestone. She wore a small scarf around her neck and had it wrapped around her face to just below the eyes. It was full of holes, but still held together even if just barely. Her dirty brown hair was covered by an equally dirty grey beanie. It was old and ragged, but otherwise in a good and relatively decent condition, it at least kept the garbage scraps out of her hair.
….
The girl huddled in her beat up refrigerator box, fingers flicking at her Zippo lighter that she clutched in shaky, freezing fingers. She breathed warm air into her palms, her small body didn't even have enough energy to create any sort of heat. Her body shivered like a leaf, teeth clacking together as she flicked at her lighter again, nothing. She grit her chattering teeth and tried again, it sparked but didn't take.
Coughs racked her small body and mixed in with the white cloud of breath was a small cloud of green. She shakily flicked her lighter and it sparked, catching the cloud of green and a small ball of fire bloomed within her cupped palms. She shivered in delight as a brief flash of warmth took the edge off the cold. The warmth faded and she was left in the half-frozen refrigerator box with no feeling in her fingers or toes. Her nose was basically frozen, the tip a dark reddish color– almost purple with the cold.
The girl flicked the lighter almost desperately, her fingers moving sluggishly. Her eyes drooped and the lighter fell from her hand, fingers twitching uselessly as she slumped over in the alleyway. Just before she lost complete consciousness, she heard the faint murmur of a male voice before she was lost to the depths of unconscious induced sleep.
….
"STOP THIEF!" Came an angry shopkeeper's voice as a small scrawny figure darted out of his shop, something clutched close to its chest as it skidded around a corner. The shopkeeper barreled past, roaring out obscenities as he waved a baseball bat.
The bony 7-year-old girl tore into the bread greedily, stuffing fistfuls of the food into her salivating mouth.
"If you eat any faster than you'll choke." Came a gruff male voice and her head whipped to the end of the abandoned alleyway to see a figure quite literally melting from the shadows. He was tall, in his late 30's or early 40's, with scruffy and greasy hair that hung past his chin in stringy clumps. He had a salt and pepper beard, dark eyes looking out under heavy eyebrows. He had a ratty cowboy hat matched with torn clothes under an old leather duster. He was O'Malley, the grumpy old street man, the girl's only source of comfort. If comfort was giving a couple cans of food before leaving her to scavenge on her own for weeks, months, even years at a time.
"Whatcha got there Frostbite?" He asked, huffing out a grunt as he took a seat beside her. She didn't speak, watching him warily as she held the half-eaten loaf near her chest, not allowing him to get close to her food. Her own stringy hair fell into her face and she shoved another handful of bread into her mouth as he watched.
"So rude, not even any for me?" His voice lilted and she glared,
"It's mine. I got it fair and square." She finally hissed, voice raspy with disuse.
O'Malley threw his head back and laughed, his loud booming laugh that sent shivers down her spine. He patted his pockets, getting out a tattered box of cigarettes before holding one out to the girl. She made a face but snapped her fingers several times regardless and they sparked, lighting his cigarette before turning back to her bread.
It was gone much too quickly, she resorted to licking her dirt stained, bandaid covered fingers to get every last crumb. She spat on the concrete before O'Malley spoke up again.
"See ya later Frostbite." He grunted, getting up and tipping his hat before quite literally melting into the shadows.