Love Letters to A Memory

A Fragile Life

29 April, 1897, Refracted Timeline, 0719

"Someone, anyone, help me!" A young gal, with blond silky hair and shiny Azure blue eyes, called out from that darkened alleyway.

"Shut it, pipsqueak," spoke one of the thugs amongst the pack, "No one would stick their neck out for a street urchin like you. Hand it over."

"I got no money, sir. Please let me go." With her shoulders pressed against the walls, those towering shadows began to engulf the bright morning gleam. Sprinting out of here was beyond her, for the hunger pangs would eat away her energy. Had she had something to eat, but alas...

Even if she did manage to run away, it was her turn in the lottery. Her luck ran out as promised.

"Lying, are we? Have your parents taught you any manners, kid?"

She bared her teeth before kicking him in the groin. He fell on his knees, wincing to the pain as he cupped it, "You little shit..."

"A feisty one, huh? We oughtta teach you some manners, huh, you little shit." A lanky ruffian amongst the pack stepped up and pinned her by the wrists. Struggle as she might, she could not squirm out of his tenacious grasp. "Comb through her things, boys."

By command, some of the greasy men began to pilfer through the young stray's belongings. Tossing away the cardboard box she called home, they indulged in ransacking whatever was left for her. Her cries fell on deaf ears, even with her tantrums shrieking through the bellowing walls of this forsaken black alleyway. All the crumbs she managed to pile up to scrape by the day were all for naught.

"Oh, shut up already with the whining." The lanky ruffian scrambled through his pockets, trying to fetch something, "I know what will plug your hole."

Flicking open his switch-knife, he pressed the cheek side of it against her cheek. A few pigs amongst the pack chuckled behind him, mimicking that disgusting, sinister smile of his. How haunting was that smile, promising her that the sun was about to be snuffed out to welcome the abyss of midnight upon her.

What hope was there for her?

She could scream and call for help, but what of it? They were right. Who would answer the beckoning of a street urchin? She had begged for help by the pavements many times and all she received were a few pitiful pennies and those frigid glances from the passerby ; Begging for help would not change her fate.

"Please... Stop..."

"Stop right there, assholes!" The predators, along with their prey, flung their sights to a blonde lady that screeched from the alleyway's entrance. There she stood, triumphant and brazen, with her finger shooting straight at them, as if sweet, sweet victory was assured for her. Smirking, she lifted her head up high, "Let her go at once."

"Oh yea? Who are you to us, huh?" One of the thugs called out.

"Amelia Watson." A puffed up smile spread across her face as she pointed at herself, "Legendary time detective, here to save a damsel in distress."

The outcast's jaw hung low. No words of shock or disbelief could ever compare to the silence from her.

"Time... Detective?" A roar of laughter from all of the thugs boomed down upon her, "Run along, little girl. We're not here to play dress-up with you."

"Neither am I." Amelia drew her Walther PPK pistol from the holster by her chest harness and aimed down her sights on them, before beaming a toothy smile, "Let her go and I won't hurt you guys. Sounds great, don't you think so?"

"As if you'd shoot us." Another hooligan called out her bluff, "No one would ever want to kill anyone."

With that, the scoundrels returned their gaze back to the street urchi-