Original Short stories.

Shanghied

Her heels clicked the cold concrete with each step she took. Walking home with her son in hand later at night than she'd like. 

She never planned her grocery shopping would end up taking four hours, and with her son holding the bag, with a loaf of bread, yogurt, and an 18 count of eggs. She smiled at the feeling of her six-year-old son holding her hand as he followed diligently to keep up with her.

Her son looked around, the streets nearly bare with only a few pedestrians walking by or coming in or out of cars.

“How much longer, Mom?” He asked innocently.

The woman looked back at her son with a kind smile, her eyes tired and voice wavering from her mental exhaustion. Truth be told, this wasn't even her son; it was her brother who had refused to take care of his child after his wife died giving birth.

“Not much longer,” she said with a small sigh, “I promise,” she assured him.

If she had enough money to pay for her car note she'd be driving home, hell they'd most likely be home by now.  But she couldn't waver on that second; she had to get home and cook dinner for her son and feed the dog she couldn't say no to during Christmas time a year ago.

The young boy looked around, spotting a dime on the ground, a smile quickly growing on his face.

“Never doubt the value of a dime”

Is what his mother would always tell him, he thought as he let go of his mother's hand to pick up the coin off the ground.

It felt like it only took a second before he turned back around to the bare setting of concrete and flickering lights from the poles aligned on the street.

“Mommy?” he asked with a whimper as the cool breeze picked up, causing him to shiver.

This is actually the prologue to the book I'm writing. But I'm gona redo it later. So you guys can have it.