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Bloody Ankles Part 1 (Short Story)

Bloody Ankles Part 1

It's a simple known fact that life is an unforgiving and spiteful bitch. Facts are just that; facts. No one knew that fact better than Paulus Abbnol. Born to that of a community whore Paulus never knew who his father was. And his mother couldn't thin the herd for him in the slightest for obvious reasons.

It was only in a matter of years that Paulus' mother eventually abandoned him to stand on his own two stubby feet and fend for himself on the cold streets of the village of Nullma north of his birth village who was notorious for their grueling winters. In the midst of winter who would even second glance at the ratty, starving boy when they could barely feed their own?

Paulus tucked further in on himself as he leaned heavily against a brick wall. He tried his best to avoid the crueler of the civilians that would occasionally kick out and spit on him. He also shied away from the pitied looks the more remorseful of the people gave him. He may have been abandoned and unwanted by everyone that came in contact with him, but he couldn't tolerate the useless sadness that filled people's eyes when they saw him. For a child of only eight years he had had far too much experience in that department.

At the very least the wench of a woman that had birthed Paulus had left him with a thin cloak that he used to hide away from the people's prying eyes.

"You are no longer my child. You are the world's."

Those were the last words Paulus' mother had spoke to him before she promptly disappeared in the crowd of Nullma's main street. For the life of the poor boy he couldn't understand why his mother had left him to rot. They had had a poor life of course. And she would lash out at him spouting drunken nonsense about an unwanted burden and hindrance, but he still didn't understand.

All Paulus had in his short-lived life was his mother, but now he had nothing. As the memory of his mother's departure plagued his mind Paulus was unaware when a large figure had stopped in front of him.

Steel blue eyes stared down at the pathetically covered heap of a boy. Hands rose to let down their own cloak to get a better view of the child. Clearly the boy had been there for several hours if not at least a day. The defeated hunch of his shoulders said it all. The boy was all alone.

"Why do you just sit there idly, boy?"

While people that had passed him and may have cursed him or spoke of him as gossip none of them had spoken to him directly as this newcomer had. The sudden question forced Paulus to raise his head with a jerk and stare at the face of the figure. With their hood lowered Paulus could make out the features of a grown, bulky man looming over him. He thought for a moment he saw a line of blood in the man's cloak, but with a quick shift the part of his cloak was hidden from Paulus' view. With a hard, straight face and narrowed steel blue eyes Paulus lightly pulled his shabby cloak closer around him for protection.

"Did you not hear me or have your ears frozen off in this weather?" The man grumbled above Paulus. Apparently this man didn't like to waste time.

Paulus lowered his gaze onto the cold and icy cobblestone ground. One lesson his mother had taught him was submission in the presence of someone superior to him. "I have no home to go to, sir."

"A husk with manners it seems," the man scoffed. All that manage to do was cox Paulus further in his cloak. The man's comment sounded like a double edge blade that Paulus was more than happy to ignore than acknowledge.

"Goodness sake child, stand and follow. You occupying this road for so long has caused many complaints. Do you see any other lame bodies simply laying about?"

Paulus' head snapped upward to the look at the man in disbelief. What was he going to do with him? Had someone contacted the authorities about him? Fear must've been clear in his eyes because the massive man sighed at Paulus' silence. Without another word a large hand grasped Paulus' cloaked arm and pulled him to his feet. "I will not carry you. Is that clear, boy? I don't care if your feet are blue. You stand on your own and follow."

Paulus could see no good in fleeing from the man, so he simply nodded and steadied himself on his numb feet. Once the man saw that Paulus was stable to follow him he began to walk down the cobblestone street which was unforgiving to Paulus' frostbitten feet. Not once did he turn around to check to see that Paulus was following him. He simply knew he would. He had a defeated look about him. One that showed he had little will to continue on.

Eventually a small voice called from behind the man, "Sir, are you going to put me away?" Still the man didn't look at him; his voice changed none when he responded, "Nay, boy. I'm taking you home."

Paulus' dark eyes widened considerably at this. He had no home. Did that mean he was being taken in by this man? Afraid to ask and receive a depressing answer Paulus remained quite again. He didn't want his small fire of hope to be extinguished. Any life was better than one that would have inevitably ended on that cobblestone street side.

"I am Abbott Elmsaul. Tell me your name, boy."

"Paulus."

"Well Paulus you arenow an Elmsaul. I always wanted a son." Abbott spoke lightly and didn't noticethe toll his words had on Paulus. For a while Paulus forgot about the frigidcoldness of Nullma and simply trailed after Abbott in shocked silence.