A Sad Remembrance

A Sad Remembrance

A young boy ran through the busy marketplace, his tiny frame bumped and jostled against the crowd. His wide violet eyes darting at every direction, looking for an escape route. Behind him, an angry man was shouting and chasing after him with a rolling pin in his hand.

"Come back here, you little rascal! How dare you steal my bread!"

The boy ran faster and in the haste, dropped a couple of apples that he was clutching in his arms. He ran into a small alley and quickly ducked behind some rubbish dumps. He was panting and gasping for breath. But when he heard the heavy footsteps stopping by his hiding place, he quickly held his breath, not daring to make a sound.

"Where did that little rascal go?" He heard the angry man's voice. "One of these days, I'm going to catch you and I'm going to hand you over to the authorities, you little thief."

After pacing around for a while, the man was gone. The boy leaned against the wall and let out his breath. That was close. He looked at his loot, two apples and a small loaf of bread.

"These shall be my dinner tonight," he thought as he bit into an apple hungrily.

Dusk came upon the land and soon the whole place had quiet down. The crowd in the marketplace had dispersed. Stallholders were clearing their goods and pushing their carts home. The busy street of the day had become deserted in the night.

Finishing his dinner, the scrawny little boy looked around cautiously. Finding it safe, he got up from his hiding place and winced in pain. He looked at his bare feet. While running away from the stallholder that evening, he had stepped onto some sharp stones on the ground and now, his blisters covered soles were bleeding. He brushed away the tears from his dirt smeared little face and brushed back his long unkempt hair, slowly limped his way back to his shelter for the night. The alley was dark and quiet except for some stray cats that were rummaging the trash cans for food. The ragamuffin looked at the cats and thought sadly how he was like them; a scavenger, dirty, unwanted and homeless. He fought back the tears in his eyes and the little figure disappeared into the darkness of the night.

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The shelter was nothing more than just a piece of wasteland under the bridge. But it was home to a number of vagabonds and tramps, including the little ragamuffin. He limped his way to his 'territory' at the furthest corner, at the foot of the bridge. The small piece of 'territory' came with a price, he had to fight to keep it. Being the youngest among the homeless, he was always being bullied and pushed around by the others until one day, with some unknown strength and gut, he smashed an empty bottle on the head of one of the bullies. After that, he was left alone.

As he lay down on his 'bed' which was actually a couple pieces of cardboard, he looked up at the stars above. The twinkling stars seemed to be smiling at him but he found no comfort in them. His tiny body was weary and his feet hurt badly. He was more worried about tomorrow, how to find food to survive another day? Will he be able to outrun those people he stole from? What if he was caught? How will he be punished?

Life on the street was tough, especially for a young boy like him. Nobody care about the homeless kids like himself. The colony was poor; the government provided no aid to these war orphans. They were left to fend for themselves, so they resorted to stealing to keep themselves alive.

The night was turning colder. Having no blanket, the boy huddled himself closer to the bonfire at the center of the wasteland, trying to seek warmth.

===================

The shelter was almost destroyed by the raging storm. All the vagabonds and tramps had gathered their stuff and left the almost torn apart shelter. All except the little boy. He was too weak to move. He watched the others leave in a hurry, fearing that the shelter might collapse. He tried to call out to them for help but everyone was too busy seeking refuge elsewhere to take notice of him. Soon he was all alone in the wasteland, battling the stormy weather.

He felt himself burning up inside, yet he was shivering in cold. The strong wind blew into the shelter, sending papers and empty boxes flying around. Empty bottles and cans were sent rolling on the ground, making awful clanging and clanking sounds. The rain and wind had put out the bonfire.

The little boy shivered again. His thin ragged shirt was totally useless against the piercing cold wind. He held up a piece of cardboard, trying to block away the wind but it was blown out of his grasp. He slumped to the ground, feeling himself growing weaker and weaker. Soon, he thought, soon he will be out of this misery.

"Oh dear, my poor boy. What are you doing out here in this storm?" He heard a voice asking. He cracked open an eye and peeked through his blurred vision. In his delirious condition, the little boy thought he saw God.

"Oh, God has come to rescue me from this pathetic state," he thought in comfort. He felt himself being lifted into a pair of warm arms. Arms that held him protectively from the harsh weather.

"Are you taking me to heaven?" the boy mumbled almost incoherently. "Are you taking me to see my mama? I am dead, right?"

"Don't worry, my child. You are going to be all right. I am taking you back to my church," the kind and gentle voice assured him as he slowly lost his consciousness.

===================

"Duo? Duo…?" Heero called out gently to the Shinigami pilot. Duo had been standing at the corner of the street in silence for almost an hour. Heero was getting worried. Since their arrival in L2, the boy had not been himself. His usual cheerful expression was replaced by a pained and grieving look, something Heero found unfamiliar. He had never seen Duo so despondent before.

Heero touched his hands and found them ice cold. He took off his jacket and placed it over Duo's shoulders. His brows creased in worry when he saw the haunted look in Duo's eyes. He followed Duo's gaze across the street but didn't see anything in particular until his eyes fell upon the dark narrow alley. A street urchin was scavenging through some rubbish dumps, battling off the angry shouts from the occupants of the flat above for the din he was causing with the trashcans.

Heero knew Duo was thinking about his unhappy past again, something that Heero had been trying to take his mind off since they came to L2. But every time Duo sees a street kid, he can't helped as memories of his early life on the street came flooding to his mind. It had etched into his mind permanently, a past that he would never forget for the rest of his life.

Heero hugged him from behind, trying to ease his sadness. "Are you all right, Duo?" he whispered into Duo's ear.

Duo felt Heero's warm breath against his neck and gave a sigh, snuggling deeper into his embrace. He knew Heero was worried about him. He was grateful to have him for support.

"Yeah," he replied and felt Heero's arms tighten around him. Heero's warm embrace felt so much like Father Maxwell's. It gave him a sense of peace and security.

"It's getting cold, let's go back now?" Heero kissed the nape of his neck. Taking one last look at the empty dark alley, Duo nodded in silence; letting Heero lead away with his arm still protectively around him. Duo leaned his head on Heero's broad shoulder, feeling the comfort it gave him.

"Father Maxwell, you used to love and care for me. I know you wanted me to be loved always, even if you are no longer here with me. I have found the same love and care in Heero. Thank you for sending him to me. He is the most precious gift I could ever have. Don't worry Father Maxwell, I won't be out of love anymore, not with Heero by my side. I know he will love me always, just like you did. I wish all the homeless kids out there will find the love they deserve, a love like mine."

~~ The End ~~