The Steam-Powered Life of Axle Xavier Van Cogworth

Preface

I was only a little boy then. I sat on the curb, face blackened with smog and caked with blood. I didn't mind, I was used to it. My stomach growled, and I had no money. Well, that was lower class London. I got up and headed to the bazaar. It was busy today. Perfect. I moved at the steady pace of the crowd and stayed hidden in plain sight. As I passed a stand, my hand subtly reached out and grabbed an apple. I quickly stuffed it in my pocket before anybody saw.

The next vender was selling meat pies. The aroma of warm, cooked meat made my stomach twist with hunger. I moved with the crowd like a leaf floating downstream. I went out to reach it, carefully, making sure nobody saw...

I tripped. I stumbled into the cart and was caught read handed. The vender grabbed me by the wrist and looked me in the eyes. "So you're tryin' ta take m' meat pies, boy? Without payin', hmm?" The old man spat. "I teach you ta steal from me! A thief ain't got no use fer hands!" He grabbed a butchers knife and held it up to in the air, and slammed my wrist against his cutting board. I pulled as hard as I could, but I couldn't get away. The knife gleamed in the harsh sun, like it was proud to cut me.

Time seemed to slow down, the mans hand came down, the knife swinging through the air with a 'swoosh' and as it touched my skin, cut through it like butter. The pain was intolerable. Blood spewed from the open wound and onto my clothes, the ground, the old man, everything. The world began to blur and spin. I heard people screaming, but it sounded distant and far off. I saw a man in a brown coat rushing towards me, but as he came closer the world went black.