My Name Is Talise Knowels, This Is My Story.

My name is Talise Knowles, this is my story.

The world I live in is a slipshod where us alleyway people (also known to the rich folks as commoners or dirt) and the first class pompous rich are both segregated, daily living in fear and disgust among each other’s existence.  And where there is fear, there is hate and deception, life lesson 101. It all started on a cold night, I was working, using all my skills as the professional pickpocket of Bourbon Street to stealthily prise a fat wallet from a rotund snobbish rich man. Unfortunately for me the man felt my hand under all those layers of fat and spun around to box my ears, before he could swing for me though I turned to flee but alas his hand was quick for a man of his size, he grabbed me by my hair and pulled it upright forcing me to stifle a yelp and face him, his fat chubby face was red with rage.

“That’s a dangerous game to play girlie” he growled at me.

“It’s safer than your cholesterol level you old git!” I snapped and preformed the emergency manoeuvre my street friend, Jess, taught me. She said it makes men cry every time, and today it worked!  The fat bloke let go of my hair to clasp his hands to a rather sensitive place in the male anatomy where I had just kicked. This gave me time to quickly steal the dropped wallet and scarper to the safety of the alleyways, only we, the children of the alleyways know our way about in here. It’s in our blood since we were born here, so no coppers ever going to find me in this maze of a place.

 After a while I let myself rest and look at my goods, £50! That will go a long way on feeding the Marks family, and the Smith family! As well as a bit left over for me too! And a grey card that I could sell to Chuffy. Chuffy is the con-artist of the alleyways. Also known as a griffter. One of those folks who con people to get money, he told me about it once but I never got it, still don’t. However of course, I had to give all of it to ol’ Mr Bulmer and his companion Mr Ailsbury. They were the leaders of the alleyway people, they taught young boys how to pickpockets and then they would collect all of it up then spread it fairly among the alley family’s. They even took in me! They said they saw me left on the street to die, covered up in the finest of silks, and raised me up as their own. Of course I had to find my own place to sleep, like in the corner of Mrs Cornwallis’s kitchen. I never grew up to liking cooking or cleaning or even sewing as the other girls in my age group had. I was more at home with the Rough and Tumble Company of the lads. With Mr Ailsburys and Mr Bulmer’s consent, they taught me how to pick pockets and to fight. I smiled as I reminisced on how I got my nickname; Firecracker. Zeph said I was so quick with my fists and temper that they had to call me it. Suddenly I was jolted from my pleasant recollections when i heard hasty footsteps running down the alley towards me. Immediately thinking it was the coppers i sprang up, grabbed my unsuspecting victim by the shoulders, pulled him around the coner where I was and pinned him to the floor in an arm lock.

“Who are you?” I growled to my prey, pushing up on his arm even more.

“Ouch firecracker! What the hell are you doing?” yelled the boy from under me, spluttering gravel from his mouth.

“James?”  I said stunned, and immediately let him up. 

“Look what you’ve done! You’ve ripped my trousers right on the knees!” He cried as he dusted himself off.

“Sorry,” I apologized earnestly; still astounded I managed to knock down a boy of James height. “I thought you were the coppers.”

“Well I ‘aint! I almost don’t want to fetch you now even if Ailsbury and Bulmer plus the Boys said to get you.” my heart leapt, Mr. Ailsbury, Mr. Bulmer AND the Gang wanted to see me! They must have something good in store for me, like I could keep my earnings today. They often did this to the boys if they had sick family or pregnant wives but since I was a girl and had no family I was left out.