One of my rarer original works. O.o;;

Got this idea from a topic my sister received from her teacher for an essay today. I figured that since it was quite rare to get such a topic from school, I think the fact that my internet connection was down was half the reason, I might as well write something on it too.

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I remember clearly when I was still pre-pubescent. When I had been merely another lost kid abandoned in the alleyways. When I had totally no knowledge of survival in the ‘wild’. When I was just another immature, self-centered, spoilt kid who disrespected adults as he pleased and played with food as though they didn’t cost as much as a penny.

How she had entered my life was not as impressive as others. She was neither a stereotypical ‘kind soul’ who took pity on ‘poor, innocent young children’ who had no family to go to, nor was she a calculating businesswoman who had every intention of making use of ‘lost’ children to the point that they lose their worth or even life. She had not the gracious aura that surrounded my birth mother or the strange smell that seemed to be glued to those skimpily clad women who tittered across the streets in stilettos.

She was simply just there. Not a ghost, but someone who seemed to fit just nicely in where she was, just like the last piece of a jigsaw puzzle. In fact, the first time I saw her, I probably would have missed her lithe form if she had not gotten half of my body stinking wet with a tubful of post-laundry water.

I still remember when she had decided to employ me as a worker in her little sweet shop. When she had simply ignored the stark contrast between my (mildly dirty but still) aristocratic features and my clothing, which had been so dirty that there probably wasn’t any white patches on it even if it had been totally white to begin with, and simply accepted my explanation of not having a home and took me in.

She was a simple woman. And that was that. She had little expressions, and the only times when her lips would curve upwards in a tiny grin was when the kids living in this unsavory part of the city crowded around the shop with childlike glee, pointing at the sweets put on display and whispering to each other on how they would split their money amongst themselves to buy some of those delectable treats.

I had scoffed in contempt at their actions, of course. For I, who had always had such things in wide amounts and variety, could never understand the pleasure of something so little, yet important at the same time. But as time went by, I grew to appreciate their enthusiasm and their antics, perhaps even join in with them, and even offer a sweet or two to them whenever they passed by.

For those rogues and gangsters who roamed the dark streets as frequently as those kids who frequented her shop, she would spare them no less than a condescending glance, and a gentle huff under her breath. Even if they had a rusted kitchen knife with its point pressing against the soft texture of her neck, splattering their filthy saliva all over the place as they demanded for our money, she would still retain her ever-present cool mask and stare at them coolly. Even if they had their men surrounding the little candy shop, threatening to burn it down if we did not cooperate, she would never drop to her knees or beg them. She never did give them what they wanted. Not the desperate pleas for mercy or flashing anger I had often witnessed surging from the men they had targeted upon. Not even when they had their men destroy the shop front right in front of our watching eyes.

If there had been a time when I had seen more expression on her face than any other, it would be when those thugs had accosted me when she had sent me for an errand. The depth of the looming anger that seemed to erupt from her when she witnessed the thugs, who seemed to have mistaken my gender thanks to my effeminate features, surrounding my struggling form and tearing my clothing with sadistic enthusiasm was so great that even I froze in cold sweat, inwardly thanking whatever god out there that her anger had not been directed at me.

Alas, one person could never defeat an entire gang of well-prepared rogues. Even as she had those thugs who had assaulted me down on their knees in agony, another wave of their comrades came upon her waving their weapons about, crazed. Finally, with a loud thump, she fell to the ground, her face swollen with blood trailing down the corner of her half-parted lips. Not even once, did she attempt to pick herself from the ground, perhaps she had known that her body was too weary from the fights and so badly bruised that it would not listen to her commands anymore.

With a soft shuffling sound, she rolled across the soil filled ground, stopping only when her dulling opaque eyes met mine.

And then, she smiled. A genuine relieved smile that I had never seen on her face. It was just another gentle lift of her lips, however with just that smile, she looked more vibrant and younger than I had ever seen her. But that smile, was the last smile I was to see on her face ever again.

-Ende-