Rain hammered on the metal roof of the shack, gently pulling me out of sleep until I was fully alert and aware of the chill. My scrap of a blanket did nothing for warmth but without it I felt exposed and vulnerable. I sat up and rubbed through my hair with a ratty gloved hand and yawned loudly, prompting my scrappy little dog to saunter over and lick my shirt.
"Mornin' Chop. Any visitors this morning?"
He just stared at me, the same way he always did. I searched the whole of the one-room hut, checking each trap i'd set up. All armed still. Same thing every day. The only person triggering them was me, on accident. But I had to.
I stood up from my bedroll and carefully laid my blanket over it, just as I did every morning. Just because I was poor and had nothing besides junk and my dog didn't mean that I couldn't hang onto a shred of normalcy and make my bed. I stepped carefully around the tripwires and homemade mouse traps, over to my scavenged table with the broken leg. There in front of my milk crate seat was a plate of eggs, toast and sausages. The corner of a folded piece of paper peeked out from under the edge, just as it always did. It said the same thing every day. 'Have a wonderful day, it is bound for greatness'. Always signed 'R'. This morning I decided not to open it, and mindlessly threw it away in the rusty little bin by the door. I sat down to my mysterious breakfast and began to eat. I thought to myself, as I often did, where did it come from? Who was 'R'? What being could possibly get past my security measures? I peered up at the junk metal that should rattle when the traps were set. It hung like rusty chandeliers, always still, always silent. I glanced again at the plate, and pushed it away. I won't deny that the meal had saved me on many days when no other food was to be found. But I was starting to resent it. And harder still to admit , I was afraid of it. Would 'R' someday expect repayment of some kind? Surely it was a demon of some sort, as no human could get past me and the dog and the traps. It was like the plate just materialized. I had stayed awake all night many times, and as the sun came up and my eyes would drag from exhaustion and I would dare to blink, there it was. The note, the food. I set the plate on the floor for Porkchop. He scrambled to get to it and began wolfing it down without taking a breath. I stared at him sadly, he deserved better. Such a good boy. Always had been, from the moment I found him covered in grease and limping behind a dumpster for half a moldy sandwich. He reminded me of myself. A fighter and a survivor. But though he always had half of the breakfast, I knew he wanted more. Sometimes we could muster up a dinner, but most of the time our only sustenance was mysterious breakfast. I carefully scooted the chair back and stretched.
"What greatness will today have in store, Chop? Will the scrap man take advantage of us again, or maybe a passerby will spit on us? All good things, all good things."
He looked up with a bit off egg in his nostril and barked a tiny bark. I took that as my cue to get ready. I walked over to my shard of mirror and straightened my bed hair. The reflection I saw was not a pleasant one. My eyes were sunken and dull, cheeks gaunt and lips cracked.
"Good news Chop," I said looking over to him, "I get a bath today."
And by bath, I meant a quick wipe with a rag and collected rainwater. It also meant I could wash my clothes and put on the 'clean' ones I'd washed last time it rained. At this point I didn't even have to look down to know where the wires were as I walked to the door. I opened the warped and termite ridden thing only to have a pair of deep brown eyes staring at me. It was Anna, another slum rat that lived in a similar shanty down the road. Her hand was raised to knock, which was good because she usually didn't.
"What do you need, Anna? I was about to have my bath."
"Good Wesley, you stink to high heaven. I wish you would just go down to the reservoir with the rest of us and do your washin'."
"You know I don't like it. The more fortunate watch us like its a spectator sport. I won't be more humiliated than I already am."
She sighed and leaned against the wobbly frame of my shack, twirling her dirty dirty blonde hair.
"Somebody was lookin' for you around the commons. A man, dressed up real nice." She searched my face for a reaction.
I kept my face straight but inside I was afraid. I had no business with anyone outside of this slum. Parents dead, siblings dead, extended family most likely dead. All the same illness, ripping through the slum like a fire on dry logs.
"Well anyway I told him that I'd find you and he had to wait there until I talked to you first."
"I appreciate that. I don't really know how I feel about it. I'll think while I wash up." I skirted past her and stepped into my small outhouse. There was a hole in the ground, a barrel for rainwater, and a line for the clothes. I had to wash myself first because my clothes were so filthy that they would surely turn the water black. I disrobed and hung up my clothes on the line.
"You sure are big for a 15 year old. I mean like, tall. Muscular. You don't look 15." I heard from outside the curtain of my outhouse.
I whipped around and Anna was peeking her face in, looking me up and down.
"Jesus Anna get out, do you have no boundaries?" I hid beside the barrel and glared at her.
"Sorry, just so used to seeing all the folks around here naked that it's lost the shock value. I'll wait out here." Her face disappeared and I let go of the breath I'd apparently been holding. I stuck my head in the barrel and scrubbed my hair and face, and grabbed the scrap of rag for the rest of me. My clean clothes were folded up in the corner and I quickly shrugged them on as the water was cold and so was the air. Except my clothes had gotten damp from the rain so they were cold, too.
"Bound for greatness." I muttered, pulling my tattered shoes back on.
My dirty clothes went in and I stirred them with the paddle I had for laundry. The water swirled and clouded over immediately. Best to let them sit, I thought. I exited onto the dirt street, cursing the sprinkle that the rain had turned into. The chilly September air turned the tiny mist into little drops of ice. Anna was huddled under the roof's outcropping rubbing her hands together.
"What's the verdict?"
"I guess I'll see what he's about. Very peculiar though." She hooked her arm through mine and towed me off to the commons. Other dirty slum dwellers meandered around trying to shield from the wet as they completed their chores. Porkchop had caught up with me and was sauntering beside us. Anna led me to the big shack in the center, the 'community center'. It was well built and even had some furniture. Good for weddings and funerals, and its where the sermon was held on Sundays. I always slept through those but I made sure to go because my mom would have wanted it. We pushed through the doors and there by the pulpit was a man in a suit talking to our pastor, heads close together and whispering fiercely. They looked up, startled by our appearance.
"Wesley, my boy, we were just talking about you. All good things." Pastor Meyers called out with a toothy smile.
"Anna said somebody was looking for me." I didn't move from my spot, my eyes on suit man.
"Ah yes, that'd be me. My name is Mr. Goodchild. I was hoping I could speak with you." He stayed rooted, too, aware of my unease.
"Concerning what?" I tilted my chin at him and raised an eyebrow.
"Well it's a rather delicate matter. Better discussed in private." He put on a relaxed posture, like someone approaching a wild dog.
I looked to Anna and she shrugged. She obviously didn't feel anything was out of the ordinary about the man like I did. I furrowed my brow but walked over to the man. Pastor Meyers nodded in encouragement and left us standing alone, taking Anna out with him. The doors closed with a thud and silence blanketed the space, save for the rain which was beginning to pick up again.
"Wesley, I know you must be very curious as to why I'm here. Sit, I'll explain." He sat in one of the folding chairs meant for church. I hesitated but sat.
He looked into my eyes and placed his hand on mine, then everything went white. I had been blinded. It was 'R' the demon here to take his toll for mysterious breakfast. I screamed and it was a girlish thing, broken in the middle as manhood hadn't fully taken me yet. I closed my eyes hoping the blinding white would go away. And it did, I realized as I opened them slowly. The community center was replaced by a library of sorts. Just one room with wall to wall shelves of books and dust. Puffy armchairs were littered about with patterns that clashed horribly. An intricate rug laid the length of the floor, spattered with ink stains. I could smell dust and books and wine and the fireplace roaring in the corner. The room was so warm and the smells intoxicating. I stepped backwards only to trip on an end table and fall.
"Clumsy thing, aren't you? Perhaps I've chosen the wrong person." A lovely voice spoke behind me. I clambered to get up and saw a woman behind a desk with her hands locked together by the fingers. Her red hair fell in waves around her face, a face so fair it almost hurt to look at. She had the posture of an older woman but her face had not a line or blemish in sight. Her full lips were turned up at a corner in a smirk.
"Come sit, Wesley. I need to talk and I'm afraid we don't have much time."
I did as she said, almost compulsively. The armchair facing her desk gave up a puff of dust as I sat, though it was comfortable. So so comfortable. And warm.
To be continued..