happy holidays

1

I lit the cigarette I just sneaked out of the woman's purse. A light wind carries the smoke away. I look at the parkbench I sit on. The night kicks in. People go home, and the worst kinds of party animals get out. I throw the cigarette away. I walk through dark streets, looking for a easy prey. A woman standing in line to enter the nightclub. I sneak past people, who aren't aware of me, ready to sneak the money out their purses or bags. I don't think about how to get their money. It became an instinct, like I was born to steal. I get closer to the man. I grab the bag she's holding out of her hands, and quickly disappear in the crowd. I hear her yelling, but I know she didn't see me. Nobody sees me. Nobody ever really looks out for each other in this city, I know.

I get back to the place I started to call home. A house with no owner, light or gas. It's one of those houses for people who can't afford to pay much money for rent, so it only has one room. It's barely noticeable, and located in the quiet, dark side of London. But at least I have a roof above my head, a bed. I have a closet where I keep my clothes and money. I got clothes from charity, but also people have given me clothes. I stole clothes. There's a table and a chair. I've gathered some books, pens and notebooks in my life to make it look a little bit "cosy". I got a drawer for food. I only have one spoon, two forks and two knives. Also from charity. I got a kitchen, with a sink which still works. The furnace doesn't work. I make a fire when I really need to cook something or I go to the place for homeless people. I don't want to. I don't want to be recognised as homeless. But I have to. I have a shower. But it barely works. And a bed.

I sit down at the chair, putting the bag on the table. I open it, finding a wallet, a make-up bag, and a camera. No phone, which surprises me. Not many people are smart enough to keep their phones close. ,,Smart..." I murmer. You have to be smart. Im not the only pickpocket in London. I open her wallet, finding a £100 bill. Should be enough to come around for a week or so. I walk to bed. Lying in bed, eyes closed, I drift away, to sleep.

,,Louis," a familiar voice says. ,,Louis, have I ever raised you this way? This bad? I have never taught you to steal." Louis turned around, to see his mother. ,,Mother..." A woman, with grey strands in her hair, and blue eyes looks at him. ,,What have you changed into?" Louis felt anger. She was mad at Louis, but she left Louis! ,,What you LET ME BECOME!!" Louis' scream was powerful. His mother looked disappointed, sad. "You have left me. You DIED. I had no home. No life. You raised me while having no life. You know it. Go away." Louis demanded his dream to reach its end. The woman tried. ,,But Louis, you could have seeked for help...". "AWAY!!" Louis yelled as the woman turned around. And it went dark.

I woke up. I've had this dream many times. I get up, not able to sleep again. I light up a cigarette, which is lying somewhere on the table. I take some money with me, walk out the door, although I don't know what time it is.