The Wanderer

Rain poured down over the heavily lit city.  The sky was gray, and storm clouds masked the sun along with its light, dampening the usual joy of the colorful metropolis.

A girl trudged unhappily through the rain, but not because of the wet and filthy droplets falling on her.  No, she thought the precipitation helped to cleanse her body, washing away the sorrows of her past.  Never had she been bothered by the fact that the water falling from above captured mass amounts of pollution as they tumbled from the dark cottony fluff floating in the atmosphere.

Instead, she felt annoyed by the light coming from the buildings around her.  Too much light, she thought.  She turned to find a dark alleyway, and ducked inside, hoping no one saw.  She savored the protective feeling of the shadows around her.

Darkness.  The cold, comforting darkness. The empty and bitter void that most refused to follow.

In this inky black darkness was the young girl.  Her mind was as dark as her surroundings, for this was a girl who belonged to no family, knew no friends, and owned no items of sentimentality.  However, she longed for a family, she wished for friends, and she envied others for their belongings.  But this was something she could not have.  Her sad loneliness was the reason why she found comfort in the black night, not once fearing the darkness.

She huddled in the corner of the alley, believing the shadows cast by the tall buildings around her would make her unnoticed by any passersby.  She reached her hand into the pocket of her over-sized jacket, and found half of a stale roll of bread, wrapped inside a napkin.  She took a tiny nibble out of her food.  The old taste from the dough spread over her tongue, and she put the bread away.  She decided to ration the food, taking only what was needed.

The girl slowly rose, and made her way onto the busy street.  However much she detested the bright florescent lights, she needed money for more food.  There was no way she would be able to last more than a few days off of that bread alone.

She followed the path to the market, watching as others ooh-ed and aw-ed at the many stands and booths.  She scanned the area for anyone with heavy pockets, praying to get enough coins for a nice hot meal.  Maybe even some extra to buy a new dagger; for protection, of course.

Her eyes widened when she sighted a man in a nice suit with slicked-back hair.  He was standing right in front of a booth selling pretty little trinkets made of precious metals.  Nice things meant lots of money.  And she needed money.

The girl waited until no one was watching, then moved in closer.  She slipped her small hand into the man’s pocket, and silently snatched a few bills and coins.  She even managed to nab a couple of charms from the stand.  Once she was finished, she quickly moved on to another section of the market, far from her current position.

For the rest of the day, her pickpocketing was just as successful as the first.  She swindled people left and right, stealing paper notes, metal coins, and jewelry from multiple innocents.

By nightfall, she had collected around forty-five dollars’ worth of items.  She had twenty-six dollars in cash; easily the best she had done in many weeks.

Before any of the shops closed, she headed towards the worst side of town.  The side with few working lights, many thugs and thieves, and poor homeless children like herself.  She turned in her findings for money at the black market, receiving a good pay for her labor.  Then she went and bought a new dagger to use, selling her old one for more cash before going back to buy her dinner.

The food she purchased was nothing fancy.  Just some jerky to hold her over until she got enough money to buy a full meal at a formal restaurant, one with an appetizer, entrée, and dessert.  This thought kept her going – moving.  It gave her something to look forward to, as little as it was.