#76 Short Story
"Lord, please save her."
The alley was well lit. Men of different collars intertwined as common folk. The view of the sky beneath tangled wires stared down upon men worried only about trivial things. Various jungle-like echoes resonated along the walls, the street pavement, the stalls, and even within dreams made of flesh. Sweat and foul odor mixed with sweet, cheap colognes. They were all without worry except for their true god: money.
"Please, let there be something good to eat."
A man moved through the crowd. He was unsure whether he had made the right choice coming here. He seriously did not like being anywhere outside the office or his home.
"Hopefully, we have more customers today."
He was not wearing his usual clothes.
He hated not wearing white. His choice of color claimed the symbol of purity. He hated not wearing his comfy, feather-decorated fluffy indoor flip-flops. He hated not wearing his hooded pajamas that hid his face well. He hated not wearing long sleeves that concealed his arms filled with bruises. He hated not wearing his homely mittens that hid very well the callouses and slits he had gathered over the years.
"Let's keep hope. That's right. I… I wish my son would grow up not to be like me."
He was wearing black — a chosen costume to hide marks of dirt and impurity. He wore a face mask, something he could not go without. He hated being seen.
He wore rings he despised. He believed vanity was meant for display, never to be held. Yet there they were, always held between his fingers.
He wore knee-length short jeans. Visually unpleasing perhaps, but where he was, such things were never of concern. He wore no socks. Only sandals — breathable, easy to move in, and much easier to get dirt on.
He did not like anything he was wearing.
"Oh! I wish Aunt Ann would still be kind enough to let us borrow again."
He eyed the folks he used to see only from afar. Up close they were clearer, and far more unpleasant. They did not smell good. They all wore a mask of facade.
This he especially despised.
He did not like lies.
"Please, don't let there be rain today."
"Please, let someone have a heart."
"Hey, mister," a child of soot and grime walked near our main character.
The child wore clothing very clearly not meant for his age. There were holes, tears, and frayed edges everywhere. The child's face did not seem to mind them. His eyes were intent on our main character.
Our main character eyed the young child. He planned to ignore the kid and move on, but the child tugged at his clothes.
Our main character clicked his tongue.
He looked down at the young child.
"What do you want?" our main character said. His voice was quiet and quick. He pulled at his clothes to free himself from the child's grasp.
The young child let go.
"You do not belong here," said the young child.
"Amazing. How did you know?" our main character replied sarcastically.
The young child did not answer. He simply looked our main character in the eyes. There was no intent but to observe.
"So? What do you want?" asked our main character.
"Nothing," said the young child.
Our main character was taken aback. He turned toward the young child and studied him.
A typical child of the streets. A kid roaming around, looking for opportunity while trying not to become part of the system so carefully kept.
Our main character hated liars.
But the kid was telling the truth.
A true anomaly for where they were.
"Are you sure?" our main character asked once more. He tried to read the child, as if he were an open book filled with secrets both banal and trivial.
"Yes," the young child answered.
Our main character was confused. He could not read the child he was speaking with.
Then it dawned on him.
"You're… you don't belong here either, do you?" asked our main character.
The young child looked around before answering.
"So does everyone else."
"What?"
Both our main character and the young child were locked in each other's eyes. Both were observers, and both were being observed.
Our main character lowered himself to the child's eye level to look closer.
"Hey, good sir. May I help you with something?" a voice behind our main character broke the silence.
It was an employee of the store in front of which our main character and the young child were standing.
"Please don't be a weirdo. Please buy something."
Our main character was startled. He immediately stood up and turned around. His eyes were smiling, and so were his lips beneath the face mask.
"Hello," our main character replied in a gentle, easy-to-approach voice. "I'm sorry. I was just talking to this child over here."
Still smiling, he turned around and pointed behind him.
But there was no child there.
Our main character looked confused.
"What child are you talking about, good sir?" the employee asked. He sounded both confused and irritated. He clicked his tongue.
Out of embarrassment, our main character shrugged it off and tried to grab his wallet.
But it was no longer in his back pocket.
"What the? My wallet's gone," said our main character, even more embarrassed.
"Oh! Dear me, good sir. Perhaps the young child you mentioned earlier was a pickpocket," said the employee.
Our main character's eyes wandered around. The employee noticed immediately. He clicked his tongue once again and sighed.
"Good sir, there are officers stationed right at the corner of this street," the employee said with a facade of concern. "It would be best if you go there immediately."
"Great. A waste of time. If only he could buy something."
"I see," our main character replied.
He grabbed a bill from his pocket and asked for a bottle of soda the employee was selling.
"Let me buy this for the trouble. It was good I had money in my other pocket."
The employee's face brightened. He smiled as he handed over the bottle of soda and took the cash.
"Thank God, at least he bought something. Oh! Please Lord, help him get his money back."
"Thank you, Robert," said our main character as he turned around and went on his way.
The employee, upon noticing that our main character had finally left, returned to his usual expression.
"What a troublesome customer. Hopefully there aren't many more like that."
"Hold on… I never told that guy my name. Who was that anyway?"
Our main character was still troubled by the pickpocket child. His thoughts swirled around who the child was and why he had appeared there in the first place.
Like magic, he reached again into his pocket and found the wallet that had once been missing. The same contents were still there, except for an additional folded piece of paper.
There was a note inside.
There is no one god here.
Our main character immediately understood and turned back the way he came.
"Please let there be more cash on the next one."
"Please, save us. Don't let us get caught."
"Lord, please, help us get much more money today."
"Hopefully we won't get caught."
"Hopefully the plan will work out."
"I hope I get away with my trial."
"I hope I get away with this murder."
"I hope I get forgiven for what I will do."