A Shadow of Light

I am not afraid, or at least that’s what I keep trying to tell myself.1

The night was around me, the darkness was deep. Confusion was running amuck in the land that used to be so prosperous. So corrupt are the days of old, now we face a new world that is confusing. A world of shadows.2

I run through the dark city streets, not even the grimy lamps cast enough of a glow. A window breaks in the distance, the shrill cry of a woman sounding soon after. Guns firing made me jump, a loaf of bread and two apples spilling from my shawl onto the dirty street below. I picked them up quickly, stowing them so no beggar could see my loot. I’d stolen this fair and square, no one would take it tonight. 3

Darting through alleys and narrowly dodging garbage cans, I made my way. 4

The night air was so cold, I had to stop for a moment to cough and kept running again. There was no day off for the ill. They would go hungry. 5

“Child.” I gasped at a raspy voice before me. 6

An old haggard was crouched in the alley under a pile of rags. The grip on my bundle tightened, while my other hand reached for the sash around my wiast.7

He stood up, the old man. He sauntered towards me, my fear growing. “Spare a man that loaf of bread. You are so much spryer than me, give me some strength.”8

“I can’t.” I replied feebly, backing up. “I’m feeding my brother and sister.”9

He continued coming forward, and I panicked. I pulled out the knife on my sash, throwing it at him with deadly precision. It hit him square in the heart.10

The man gasped, falling back and with a last gurgled breath he died. It only took me a few moments to recover from the momentary shock. I had warned him. I wasn’t giving up my meal for him. Not when others depended on it most. I kneeled over the body, pulling my knife out of his tender flesh. 11

A death was as common as the nights were cold. Anyone could commit a murder, even me. A nine-year-old girl. No one would miss that old bag. He was a waste to our world, wasting air and space. He needed to die.12

Stopping short at a boarded up warehouse, I knocked at the boarded up door. A pair of green eyes came out of the darkness, followed by the small dirty face of a five-year-old girl. “Liz!” She cried in delight, but I shushed her quickly. 13

“Go and open the door, Emma.” I whispered to her crossly. 14

“Billy’s already doing it.” She replied, and I dashed to the other side.15

I jumped on a smelly, rusty dumpster at the side of the brick building. Reaching up, I grasped the rusty ladder in my hands. It was cold to the touch, and I had to hoist myself up. I pulled myself onto the metal deck, waiting at the door. 16

Another set of green eyes disappeared flashed from the window, and I heard a chair being scooted to the side. I looked around the dark alley for a moment, then grasped the handle of the door. I gave a strong push, stumbling into our home.17

Emma and Billy were already at my sides, wrapping their arms around my waist. “Liz!” They cried in unison. 18

“Hey guys. I got the mother load tonight!” I smiled, walking over to the table with the weights on my sides. It was a simple card table, with buckets as chairs. I spilled the contents on the table, looking up at the window. The old, soggy newspaper that was clinging to the window was falling apart. 19

“Go ahead and eat.” I urged them, walking up to the tall dark oak dresser with its drawers opened like stairs. I threw off my shoes, stepping gingerly on each drawer in my soggy socks. I grabbed the newspaper on the top, reaching on the tips of my toes to duct tape the new newspaper to the window. The constantly cold breeze wasn’t ceased, but muffled so it wouldn’t be as cold.20

I sat down with my little brother and sister, pushing the apples to them. “Eat these, they keep the doctor away!” 21

“That only happens when you have one every day!” Emma laughed, taking a huge bite out of hers. Billy nodded, eating one as well. I wished I could give them one every day. It was difficult to even bring this much to the table. I almost hoped that we come have so much food every day. Our mom died a few months after having Billy and Emma. Their dad wasn’t really there, but it was the same with me. I’d taken care of my half-siblings as if they were really my own. I wasn’t sure how I’d been able to take care of them since they were one. Not a day went by where I wished I had a real family.22

“You know,” Billy said after eating his fill, “We could get more food if all of us went out on our own and meet up each night.”23

“Maybe when you guys turn seven.” I replied with a smirk.24

Emma and Billy both beamed at the thought, and continued to eat more. When we were finished, I set the beds up. “Time for bed guys!” I smiled, already laying down in mine. They both jumped on their beds, pulling the cold blankets over them. I wished I could offer them more than this. I really did.25

“Goodnight, Liz.” Emma and Billy said in unison.26

“Night Emma. Goodnight Billy.” I smiled, curling up in a ball and huddling in the blankets. 27

***28

The morning, as usual, was cold and gray. It was early as I stepped outside of the door, a sleepy Billy locking it behind me. I watched through the fogged glass as he trudged back to his bed.29

I pulled the shawl over my head, and ran through the town. Was it sad that I didn’t even know the name of the town where I lived? Was it sad that I couldn’t even read? I heard my mother mention the name once in scorn, but it was so quickly forgotten. I didn’t bother to ask her about it because I was so young. It was impossible to ask other people, the only civilization I had was Billy and Emma.30

Rummaging through trashcans was something I didn’t like to do often. The richer people of this town threw out little scraps of their food, because they could afford to. I pulled the lid off of one garbage can and stopped, staring down at the object before me.31

It was a yellow pencil. It was grimy, but bright like the sun all the same. I liked it. I picked it up, holding it in my hands and twirling it lightly. I put it in my small leather purse that hung at my side. Inside was a few simple items. A small lock with a key inside. A golden locket that had a broken clasp. It was full of simple things I thought were pretty. I didn’t share them with Billy and Emma, though I had no idea. I shared everything with them. Only these things I didn’t share, because I wanted just one thing for me. This colored pencil would be one of them. I tucked it into the small leather purse, replacing the trashcan’s lid. 32

After a last side-long glance at the place where I found another thing to add to my collection, I disappeared around the corner to continue my search. Maybe there was hope I could find something more. Something better for me and my siblings. 33

The sun would one day shine just as bright as the colored pencil in my purse. Someday.34