The Golden Apple

Three - Jake

I swept through the streets with my cloak flowing behind me. I no longer felt like I was burning to a crisp in the sunlight.

My stomach growled. I opened up my saddlebag to take out an apple. Once I grabbed one, I lifted it towards my mouth and took a bite. All this running and stress of being caught again was making me hungry.

I paused at the sound of shuffling behind me. I carefully pivoted around in the other direction while carefully dropping the apple back into my bag. My eyebrows furrowed in suspicion. I didn't see anything behind me.

That's strange, I thought to myself. I could have sworn I heard footsteps following me.

Suddenly, I felt the ground quickly disappear underneath my feet. I landed on the road with a thump, the sound of mischievous laughter filling my ears. A group of young homeless teenagers, who looked about thirteen to fourteen years old, had tripped me and snatched the apple from my hand. I gripped my forehead in pain. I had hit my head on the way down.

I felt dizzy. Another one of the bratty teenagers ripped my saddlebag from my shoulder. I reached forward to get it back, but the third teenager just kicked me down. I watched them as they all fought to have a look at the resources inside. Many words started building up inside of me. Many angry words to be exact.

But the words died inside my throat. I looked back down to the ground in a daze. The teenage thieves were gone. My bag was thrown across the street in front of me, getting stepped on by every person walking by.

I slowly staggered up to my feet and limped helplessly towards my tousled bag. I opened it carefully and peered inside, brushing off the dust with my sleeve. My heart sank. The damn thing was empty.

I clutched my bloodied knuckles. All of my apples, my pocket knives, my spare clothes, and even my brush. There was nothing left, except for a little pile of pebbles strewn in the little inside pocket.

I scowled. I just got out of prison for stealing, I thought angrily.

In order to replace everything, I would have to go on another stealing mission. Then I would be back to square one, rotting in a hay-covered cell with an empty stomach.

"What a lovely goddamn day," I muttered bitterly.

I strode by another booth on the street. There was an older woman behind the counter. She too looked exhausted in the heat, just like the previous clothing lady I encountered. Her grey hair fell in wisps over her eyes, and sweat beaded on her forehead. I averted my eyes when hers met mine. I didn't have any more coins on me, and I was not in a social mood.

My head tilted to the side. She gave me a deep look of suspicion, as if she knew exactly who I was. I shuddered as she continued to stare. Is it my cloak? Is it my face? Do I look menacing? I thought nervously. What is she so worried about?

Then it hit me. She wasn't looking at me. She was looking at the group of guards talking behind me.

My breathing stops at the sight. One of the guards is Elros. He is just standing there with an apple in his hand, laughing loudly with his comrades. A blue-ish bruise was showing on his right shin.

I gulped. Another mark inflicted by me.

I tried hard to ignore him, but I couldn't shake the questions racing through my mind. How on earth did he get out of that prison cell I locked him in? Is he looking for me now? Have I angered him too much?

My hands started to quiver. I held my breath as I slowly made my way to the booth.

Look away, I told myself in my mind. Don't show your face.