The child, the Wild and the Morbidly awkward Introvert

Michael-Ever, ever after

Michael's entire life was a powerfully potent and somewhat giddying concoction of daydreams about Sparrow. His performances improved; no one ever expected him to be the 'Silent Boy' who the entire world was selling their souls to see live.

Apparently his performance would be an introduction to a much larger, more extravagant one with Sparrow at the helm of it. Performing with Sparrow had always been one of Michael's biggest dreams yet he had never expected it to be possible.

The thought of being close to Sparrow again was enough to make him want to dance all the time, giggle and laugh manically and walk around telling the world about his golden luck.

Barron was getting angrier by the day and had started the new trend; Michael had to be alert and capable so as part of his preperation, Barron would starve him to less than half of his weight. Barron had also decided to rush him through strenous rounds of exercise that was starting to take its toll on the young boy. He always felt out of breath and sick, was prone to helplessly passing out for hours on end.

"That's him!"

He stirred. A soft voice woke him up and forced him to face the almost unbearable cold. It made him feel like his bones were being ground painfully in between sharp jaws.

"I wish we could do something for him!" A softer voice murmured.

He slowly opened his eyes, almost squealed; Sparrow was sat on one side of him with a very pretty lady on his other side.

Sparrow smiled kindly down at him, the sheaf of rolled up papers in his lap rustling as the wind kicked a scrunched up wrapper past his head. "Hi Little One!"

Michael groggily sat up, supressing a huge yawn as a ginournous smile stretched across his gaunt face.

"He doesn't say much." Sparrow told the woman.

The woman smiled kindly at Michael..

"Son! Son what ARE you up to!"

Sparrow tensed.

Michael jerked up his head, supressing a shudder.

Barron was glaring down at him; glassy eyed and filthy.

Barron sneered, revealing chipped yellow fangs. "What ARE you doing here?! I thunk I told you to come meet me at Maccy's an' you come and lie here like a dodgy li'l codger not once finkin' of how long I looked for you!"

Sparrow and the woman were two, dazed statues by this point.

Michael heaved himself upright, clinging to the guitar and almost swaying dangerously as the cold buffetted him.

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Cora-Reflections

I had never expected myself to be one day be  sat beside THE Sparrow on the pavement, in the cold and moonlight in companionable silence. We both seemed to wonder if either of us were actually going to make a difference to the world in general. It felt like we had already failed without even trying.

Sparrow surprised me by sighing suddenly, wearily. He slowly rocked back against the rough and worn pavement, his head up and the wind turning his hair into wild flames.

I watched him, cautious but strangely curious about what was going through his mind.

He sighed heavily. "Funny how I kind of grew fond of a boy who just happened to have a father....I have serious daddy issues and bad luck."

"You didn't do it on purpose."

He wearily closed his eyes. "The guitar's probably going to be sold for heaps and the dad's then going to use the money to buy drugs and pay prostitutes."