Nagan | Broken Time Series: Book One

Part 1: Chapter 1

"Get back here!"

Why do people think I'm gonna stop as they shout and chase me? Nagan grimaced. Once again, he had failed to grab a stale loaf from the town baker. He was the only one who left the old breads displayed outside his shop. As far as Nagan was concerned, it was fair game and practically begging to be taken. Who wants to buy old bread, anyway?

He spun around the corner and dashed into another alley.

Wrong turn. He didn't recognize this area. But with the angry, burly man chasing him, there was no way he would entertain the thought of giving up. It wasn't until he saw a dead-end approaching did he realize his luck was just as bad as the other days.

He skidded to a stop and looked around frantically. There had to be somewhere he could go! Anything would do, and the sound of the man's pounding footsteps were getting dangerously close. Unfortunately, the only thing around was a rickety pile of crates, all too feeble-looking to hold any sort of weight. But if he could just use them to jump to grab the ledge, then—

Nagan only had enough time to put one foot on the nearest crate. He felt a large hand grab the back of his tattered shirt and yank him backwards before lifting him off the ground, the crates falling and scattering with a crash as he flailed. Immediately, Nagan dropped the loaf of bread to pull at his collar where it choked him. A strangled cry tore from his throat out of fear and frustration.

"Let go of me!" he shouted. His vision was becoming blurry and dotted with black the more he struggled. "Take your stupid piece of bread, and let go!"

"You think I'm gonna take back that dirty loaf after your filthy hands have touched it?" the baker screamed, backhanding the boy across the face. A metallic taste filled Nagan's mouth. "This time, I'll teach you a lesson you'll never forget!"

Nagan's eyes flew wide open as he watched the man pull out a knife. He knew the baker carried it—he had seen it before when the baker cut open sacks of flour. Now up close to it, he realized the blade was much bigger than he thought. A new wave of panic and adrenaline flooded his veins. He needed to get out of this situation now!

There! With a stroke of sheer luck, there was a small hole hidden behind the crates. It looked like a tight squeeze, but it was just large enough for his thin body to pass through.

Nagan willed himself to relax. He needed to concentrate.

A foreign feeling gathered in his gut as he yelled out a single word.

"Sor!"

The word morphed into the chime of a bell as the surrounding area froze, but he knew he had to act quickly. The only spell he knew only lasted a few moments. With no remorse, he wrenched himself away from the man, tearing his shirt harshly.

Free from the man's grasp, he darted for the exit and near-clawed his way to the other side. He was halfway through before he felt the same calloused hands wrap around his ankle. The man dragged him back, and the jagged crevice scraped his sides raw. This was the worst situation he could be in at the moment, but he wasn't about to give up now! As a last resort, he flung and kicked his feet wildly until he felt one land a hit. A satisfying crunch sounded.

The baker howled and cursed in pain, releasing Nagan's leg. That was enough, and soon Nagan pulled himself through the hole and sprinted as far as he could.

By now Nagan was hopelessly lost, but he couldn't care less. He ran until his lungs burned and his throat felt raw. His legs buckled beneath him when they could take no more, sending him sprawling to the ground. There, he laid motionless, completely exhausted as new pains joined old ones. He at least had half a mind to roll into the shade and flung his arm over his face to block the remainder of the sun. He hadn't eaten since yesterday, and even then it wasn't much. It was beginning to take a toll on his body.