Quaq

Just a week ago I’d been respected leader of my gang of street urchins, lord of the south beach. Times were good, spring was here, food and money were plentiful, and life was comfortable. But then it was all over. I was suddenly reduced to nothing; no gang, no territory, no food. It was all Rasi’s fault. Rasi; the little boy who was the newest plague-made orphan, with his dirty blond hair and big blue eyes, he was the perfect beggar. No well-off grownup could resist him. He brought us wealth and food aplenty to feed all six of our starving bellies. But no good thing can come without a price. Who knew the price would come at the cost of five little innocent lives.

Angle’s gang ambushed us. They meant only to take Rasi but we don’t give up one of our own without a fight. We were gallant, but outnumbered. And a few hours later Angle himself had his shiv to my neck and my family lay dead around me. I don’t know why he spared me. Perhaps he wanted me to live as punishment worse than death. The shame and pain of my loss certainly feels worse than death ever could. For the second time in my life, I am truly alone.

There is a rumor on the streets of an Aristocrat coming to town. The reasons for his coming vary from buying some valuable artifacts just arrived on the black market, to bargaining over trading rights with General Mase. But all seemed to agree; he would arrive in two days time and was staying in the General’s building in the center of town. This was most interesting to me; the General’s building was notorious for being overly simple to break into. The only reason it wasn’t robbed all the time is that everything of value was in a safe directly under the General’s own bed while he slept and moved to a safe in his desk while he worked. Talk about paranoid! It was the stuff of legends as to what really was in that old safe, but no thief ever dared attempt to steal it. He wasn’t exactly called General for nothing, after all. The only things he kept closer to his person were his two shotguns and several knives concealed in every easily reachable spot and some not so easily.

But if an Aristocrat was coming to stay, that changed things considerably. Folk like that didn’t live in cities like this, where anything not well guarded or hidden was stolen at first opportunity; they were the perfect prey for pickpockets and thieves of every kind. And this town was full of them. Yes, if I wanted any part of my former riches I needed something just like this. But first, I needed to make sure that the rumors were true.

Heading to the Common dressed as I was is as good as an invitation to any old maid with half a mind left to come running with a broom or any other convenient weapon. No, my only shot at getting any reliable information was the Anti-common, like the Common, only for types like me. It’s a bunch of kids getting together to talk business and make formal challenges between gangs. No one was begging here, none of us had any money anyway. I spotted an old acquaintance of mine. Shane had been in the first gang I ever was part of, making us like brothers. He was leader of his own gang now, just as I had been only shortly ago. “Shane, wha’s the smell in them high airs?” The street talk that was second nature to all of us was appropriate for a meeting here.

“Nikya boy! I heard you was nipped from yer pack, sorry to hear it! How you gettin’ on?” he put a knuckle to his head as a sign of respect.

“Ya, ‘m doin’ best as can be es’pected. Listen, I gots the wiff that some Rich Rat was comin’ to town an’ Ima lookin’ for anythin’ you been hearin’.” It’s best to get straight to the point or people get suspicious.

“Ow ya? I been hearin’ that too, s’posed to be stayin wit the Gen’ral. You thinkin’ a gettin’ some’a that?”

“Ya, I have. Figure, how else’m I goin’ta get back my respect? ‘t won’t bring my fam’ly back, but I got no other choice. ‘s either this or find myself some stray and pick up beggin’, but tha’s only a last resort, y’know?”

“I feel ya, I do, an’ I wish I could help but I got two new ones, one of em bein’ even litt’ler than your last boy. They jus’ ain’t ready for somethin’ like that. But hey,” he pulled off his pack and rummaged until he pulled out an orange, of all things! “A ship carry’in these musta wrecked not too long out on the west beach, ‘cause there’s gotta be hundreds’a these just washed up t’shore! I know you gotta be pressed for food righ’ now so, here, hope it can last ya ‘til your next bit of luck, eh?”

My eyes went wide; we never saw exotic fruit here. It was a very generous gift, even to a brother. But he handed it over and with an exchange of respectful pleasantries, we parted ways. The orange went in an inside pocket and I was off. I had a plan and little else, but it would have to be enough. I wouldn’t give up.

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writer5000

I think that this could be the outline of a plot, but it seems too short to deliver the intended impact.

Still very good though - I enjoyed it.

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WriterDude

Thief, not Theif.

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Industrial

Um ya, there are a couple grammatical issues here.

Decent File 13 post.

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Damien.

I like it! I'd ask you to continue, but I never seem to be able to with stories. For what it's worth, I didn't see any grammatical errors except in the slang, and that's intentional. Obviously!

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Come down down, they'll say,
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Gate

Good Start to something Grammar can always be edited don't get hung up write write write!!!!!!!!!!!

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" Imagine if all you ever did was kill for God. What kind of being would you be? An Angel sword dripping, your wings always dipped in blood.....Imagine."