The Adventures of Puck

Chapter One

Calm gave way to trumpet blasts while stacks billowed from the revving locomotive, as steel clashed against steel. The depot now a blur, Puck charged along side an open boxcar, grabbed hold to the door latch, and hoisted his lean frame inside. The boy settled himself in a corner of the empty container, his dark hair matted, and he dripping with perspiration after laboring to hitch his first ever train ride.

Though he had no money, very little rations, and no more than a pillow case-worth of worldly possessions, Puck beamed in satisfaction at his heroics. What other boy would have had such courage, such flair for adventure? And this was just the beginning.

As evening drew nigh, he wondered if he was missed. Had anyone from St. Luke's Home for Boys bothered to notice his absence? Had Reverend Giles alerted the police? Was there a search party in place? Did his childhood chums, Buddy and Charlie, come knocking only to find him long gone? Probably none of these things, he thought to himself, as rumbling noises erupted from his stomach.

It had been hours since he'd last eaten—half a peanut butter and honey sandwich at the orphanage. He'd saved the other half for his trip. Hoping to quell the hunger, Puck retrieved the saved sandwich from his sack of treasures and took a huge bite. Half a sandwich was hardly enough for a famished boy, but it was all that he had, so it would have to do. When he was done, Puck pulled a jacket from the makeshift goodie bag and stretched it over his upper body to shield him from the cooler breezes whipping about the car. Now surrounded by darkening skies, he lay there and imagined what tomorrow would bring until he succumbed to dreamland.

***

A single, long whistle blast woke Puck from his sleep. It was daylight, and it could mean only one thing: the train was approaching the station. Before anyone caught wind of his presence aboard, Puck had already planned to abandon the boxcar. By the time the loud screeching of wheels filled the air, Puck had ditched the slowing freight. With the sack tossed over his shoulder, the boy approached the outskirts of town. Small shops lined either side of its main street, and the place was crawling with locals. The townspeople seemed a rather friendly bunch, nodding as he drew near before wandering into the General Store, its jingling door alerting the older gentleman behind the counter.

"Son, you look lost," said the man. "Where are you coming from?"

"Chattanooga, sir." Puck approached the counter and took a seat.

"Chattanooga? You're an awful long ways from there now. Where are you headed?"

"The circus."

The burly, but friendly man released a chuckle or two. "Son, there ain't no circus around these parts, hasn't been for years. I'm afraid you'll be disappointed if you made our town your destination."

"No, sir. Not exactly. I don't really have a destination. I guess I'm sorta chasing after the circus."

"Well, you'd probably have better luck if you had more to go on, son. You can't approach things like this blindly. This world's a big place. Narrow down your search is all I saying. You understand?"

Puck nodded. "Yes, sir. How can I narrow down my search?"

Just as the storekeeper was about to answer, the loveliest creature Puck had ever seen approached. She had to be at least ten or so years his senior with the prettiest brunette hair and blue eyes. And when she smiled, her dimples lit up the room.

"Hi there, Uncle George, who do we have here?"

"I'm sorry, son, I didn't get your name," he addressed his young visitor.

"I'm Puck."

She extended her hand. "Hi, Puck. I'm Charlotte."

"Nice to meet you, ma'am."