Alley Cat (Discontinued)

The Boy

The boy crouched through a crack in an old, abandoned building, clutching a small loaf of bread to his chest. Once inside, he sat with his back against the wall, out of sight from the crack. Angry footsteps rushed past him, shouts accompanying them, and he held his breath lest he be found. The boy waited a minute, then a minute more. When he could no longer hear the stomps and shouts, he let out a sigh of relief. He had been careless this time, and he had nearly been caught. The boy shook his head and took a large bite out of the loaf. What's done is done, and he had gotten his food anyway, so there was no use beating himself up about it.

The boy scarfed down the bread and wiped his mouth on his tattered shirt. He stood up, stretched, and peeked outside through one of the building's front windows. The town was bustling, alive with the chatter of women on the street, men talking business or discussing the news, and children playing with each other at the park. The boy felt a pang of jealousy. He had no mother to love him, no father to teach him, no brothers or sisters to play with him. All he had was himself and his wits. But all he needed was himself, he often told himself. He had made it this long with no one looking after him; why would he need anyone now?

The boy's stomach growled. "Aw, shut it, ya just ate," he mumbled. But he couldn't deny his hunger. The loaf of bread was the first thing he had eaten in days. He needed to steal more food... or steal someone's valuables and sell them to one of the other guys on the streets so he could just buy food.

The boy crawled back through the crack and made his way to the park, weaving between the crowds of people and pulling his newsboy cap over his face. He made it to the park and climbed up a tree in the hopes of scouting out a potential target. Besides all the children at the playground, many couples liked to take walks around the park's perimeter. Often, the women had their handbags with them, and they were sure to have money in their handbags. The only real danger was the men; these men tended to be very protective of their ladies, especially when it comes to street urchins like the boy. To make matters worse, these people--men and women alike--didn't take kindly to the boy's race. He was sure to be punished harder than those white boys if he was caught.

The boy chewed on his fingernail, contemplating how he was going to steal anyone's bag with those kinds of dangers around. But then again, he had been stealing from market stalls for years with crowds of people around him and hadn't been caught yet, so how hard could it be to steal from a woman and her man?

Just as he finished the thought, the boy spotted a young lady and a man walking down the trail towards him. The couple were well-dressed and walked with an air of refinement. The woman held a handbag in one hand and her lover's hand in the other. The man's attention was solely on the woman, and he smiled and laughed as she spoke.

The boy took note of the couple's distracted state and quietly slid down the tree on the side that the couple couldn't see. He stood still and silent as they approached the tree. Without warning, the couple stopped beneath the tree. The man released the woman's hand and dropped to one knee, pulling out a small box as he did so. The woman gasped in surprise and dropped her handbag. The boy watched as the man opened the small box to reveal an even smaller, yet absolutely gorgeous, engagement ring. The boy's eyes widened and his jaw dropped. The ring had to be worth hundreds of dollars. But the ring was now on the woman's hand, and the boy couldn't just go up and slip the ring off the woman's finger. Instead, he crept around the tree and snatched the woman's fallen handbag.

"Thief! Behind you!" a man shouted from across the street, pointing at the boy. The couple turned to face where the man was pointing and watched as the boy sprinted away, quickly getting lost in the crowd of people.

The boy ran through the crowd, bumping into people and stepping on their feet as he sped away from the park. He turned left, entering an alleyway. He ran through the alley, turning onto different streets every once in a while to make sure no one was following him. At last, he entered another old building and leaned against the wall, then slid down to the floor in exhaustion. Panting, the boy opened the handbag, only for it to be snatched out of his hands the next second.

"Ey, what's that for?" he said, standing up and looking up at the perpetrator. "I stole that fair and square."

The thief's thief smirked down at him, his messy brown hair almost completely covering his bright blue eyes.

"An' what are you gonna do with this?" he taunted, dangling the handbag just out of the boy's reach. "Turn yourself into a pretty damsel?"

"Give it back. That's mine."

The brunet rolled his eyes. "Then why didn't'cha hold onto it tighter?"

The boy gritted his teeth and balled his fists.

"Give it back or else," he threatened. The brunet's smirk faded into a snarl.

"Oh, you're cruisin' for a bruisin', are ya? Well then, come get one."

In one swift movement, the brunet socked the boy in the face. Blood ran down the boy's nose and tears welled up in his eyes as he stumbled backwards.

"What a weakling," the brunet said as he rummaged through the handbag. "Oh, here you go. A nice little book for your mommy to read to you at bedtime. Night night, little baby."

The brunet tossed the book he found towards the boy and it landed with a thud and a cloud of dust and dirt, causing the boy to cough. The brunet laughed and walked away, handbag in tow.

The boy wiped his eyes and nose, blood smearing on his sleeve.

"What's his problem, anyway? Can he not steal stuff himself?" the boy mumbled. He turned to look at the book the older kid had left behind. The cover was old and worn, and the title had almost completely faded away. The boy opened the book to a random page.

"What in the world?" he said, bewildered. "I ain't that good at reading, but even I know that those ain't real words. How would you even pronounce that?"

The boy read out loud from a passage, as best as he could:

Hoc carmen magicum est quod te in felem convertet. Verba phantasiae, verba magica, haedus nunc felis est. Quaeso fac ut vasa magica biberis antequam hoc carmen legerit aut conscientiam humanam non servaveris. Gratias tibi ac vale.

The boy chuckled to himself. "What a bunch of nonsense. Who wrote this hocus pocus? Seriously, this--"

The boy was cut off by a sudden wave of nausea. He leaned against the wall, fighting to stay awake. His vision slowly faded into black, and he fell to the floor.

Thus began the boy's life-changing journey.