Found: Part 1

Aaaaaand he's back. Finally got around to writing something, uni holidays are comming up, expect more.

A young boy ran down the dark alley, his puffing and panting loud in the otherwise quiet backstreets of Neotopia. Ducking behind a pile of waste, he held his breath, half attempting to avoid breathing the foul fumes from the refuse, but primarily trying to avoid detection from his pursuers. The quick click clack of boots running over the uneven pavement and junk that stew the back alley drew closer, and the boy drew even further within himself as he attempted to remain concealed. Time seemed to slow down, with the sound of perusers blacking out all other noise in the otherwise silent shadows. Suddenly, silence. Torchlight lit up the alley, and the boy barely stifled a scream in his surprise. Without warning the light vanished, and the sound of the chase resumed, this time away from the boy. Frozen in fear, the boy still didn’t move.

Suddenly lights flashed in the boy’s face, waking him. Squealing in panic, the boy realised he must have slept on the refuse, exhausted. “Please sir, don’t whip too hard. I’m still good, don’t bin me.” Blinking the sleep out of his eyes, he looked up, and behind the light there was a face. But the overseers didn’t have faces. There was no brand on his forehead either, so it couldn’t be an escapee. So that could only mean an owner. Looking around he didn’t see any overseers. Maybe he could escape, there was a hole in the fence he didn’t see last night, and he was good at slipping through holes. There was no way an owner could fit through, although this one was skinny for an owner. Paying attention again he realised that the owner was holding out a red something. He had seen the overseers eat them from time to time, and one time he even got to taste one, after one of the other boys had stolen one. The other boy had given some to all of them in the same kennel, so they wouldn’t give him away. It was the most delicious thing he has ever eaten, even if he only gotten a bite. He couldn’t remember what it was called though.

The owner was still there, holding out the red thing. Maybe it was a trick. But he was a fast boy, to escape; maybe he could grab it and run. Grabbing it, he began to run, but the owner didn’t chase him. Instead the owner sat down and waited. Reaching into his tattered old coat the owner pulled out another red thing and sat down and began to eat his. This owner had a coat like nothing the boy had ever seen before. It wasn’t clean like most owners’ clothes, but it was better then any rags any of the other boys owned. The grey haired, odd owner called out, “There’s another apple in here if you want it, kid. What’s your name?” The boy stopped, looking back through the fence. Another apple? Maybe this was a trick. But he had never had a whole apple to himself before, and now this weird owner was offering him a second one. This was better then when he stole a bottle of rum from a drunken overseer, and brought it back to the kennel. He figured it was worth the risk. He stopped, finished his apple, and then walked back over, the whole time the old man simply watched him, saying nothing. “Here, catch.” The old man threw another apple, and asked again “What is your name, kid?”

“Name, Sir? I don’t got one.” The old man smiled and replied, “Well, you can pick one then. Any name you choose. My name’s Gaffer.” The boy blinked. “But, Sir. I ain’t no owner, I don’t get a name.” Gaffer smiled and said, “You’re out of The Kennels now kid, you can chose any name you like. But no rush. If you want a place to sleep and a meal, come with me. We got plenty more apples.”

The boy followed the man meekly though the back alleys. If there were more apples there, he’d work there. And if the work was too hard, or he was going to get thrown away, he could always escape again. He got away this time, so he was confident he could again.