The formative years in the slums towns of the states were quite something. One of the first memories I can recall begins in the streets of the backwater town I grew up in. The towns name is quote irrelevant but for telling sake we'll call it cratesbrook. I could of been just about 5 a small lad I was, quiet though I cold fend for myself quite well. Still niaiev as I was something could be said about the purity of such childlike innocence, shattered by the world. Deep in the Allyson we called our hometown playground, countless scrappy youth's similar to myself. Ran rampant round the Pires of broken crates and lofted wire catwalks. Chasing one another about in a fervent round of tag across all three dimensions, life was free and we were happy with our lot without worry for much else. This was where I first learned the cold sting of betrayal, a knife plunged into your back and the chill it sends down your bones.
I thought we had escaped the chasers, a band of the misfits naught but a year or two older than I. I had escaped scurried up the ladder ushered on by a painc of the chase. With me just ahead of myself was a girl just around my age. At the time I thought she was wonderful but looking back she was a hatchling snake, not yet evolved enough to the python she'd be in the future, strangling the livelihood of whatever poor sap she could of managed to get her tail around. The shortsightedness of humans should always be considered. sacrificing another for some infinitesimal speck of temporary gain, they'd burn the bridges for warmth in the winter because splitting firewood was too much work. In an act of selfishness to further her escape she threw me off the latter in hopes they would tag me instead of her. A cold move made for selfish reasons. Id never looked at her the same after that, a friend who betrayed me for the slightest of advantage to escape our pursuers. Many might think this was simply a game but no game is truly ever "just a game" and even real life when seen through a certain lense resembles a trashy game. The backstabbing its foundation and money its power system. The goverment makes the rules it determines the heros from the villans and it all keeps spinning. A pointless speck of chaos trapped on a tiny blue rock drifting endlessly through the void. Though it was naught but a simple game of tag it means so much more. If she was willing to toss me to my death, though not really but to a child it is but one and the same, to simply not get caught a tad sooner what atrocities would a man commit for the sake of his job, or money, or power, or any number of countless, worthless possessions in this life.
As I was falling from the rungs of the latter down just off the breach of the seconds story it was as if time had ground to a halt. the air felt clear ad the glint of the sun gleamed through the tapestry of metal. bounding off the concrete it reached my eyes but I could see none of that, only the thin Verner of joy and false platitudes Bing ripped from my vision. A tapestry of false joy and hope being torn asunder to a thousand tiny shreads, leaving nothing but the dull grey wall lying underneath. For that brief moment I had witnessed the nature of humanity the color of betrayal a dim grey cast about by the yellow sunbeams & swallowed by the sea of red in her eyes.
When I hit the ground the air was stripped from my lungs in a great lurch that stole th wind from my sails. For a moment I was left breathless and choking on nothing then as if the vacuum of space was opened up in the side of the ship. air flooded back into my lungs in great gasps, as a coughed and greedily drank in air through the searing fire in my chest. I wasn't really hurt in the ordeal, physically anyway, but my little heart had shattered from that day onward, I've peiced it back together, with chewing gum and ductape since, but the innocence of childlike wonder was never the same.
I was blind but finally I had seen, the gloomy streets and decrepit walls we had called our playground had lost their magic. I had shattered the rose color glasses of childhood and was finally witness to life through my own eyes. It was a tragic sight and soon I was caught in the chase, becoming "It" as the older kids had run off finally free of the curse to become runners once again, but in the moment none of it mattered to me any longer. after a few minutes had passed I soon picked myself up, not out of joy or fun, the thrill of the game had passed by then. It more likely was out of obligation to see the game through to its end, for its far worse a crime and dishonor to give up rather than to lose. eventually I had caught some other young scrap, and resumed my role of runner rather than the one giving chase but by then it was no matter. soon the dinner bell rang and the streetlights flickered on in the setting sun. gloomy we all dragged ourselves back to the orphanage we called home, saddened by the end of the game.
when we sat for dinner the "sister" as we called her a Miss Madeline Cardinal, she was a lovely cook might I add, said grace as we dug into our meal. it was simple chicken pot pie & a spot of stew she had cooked up that day. the warmth of the meal had drug the edge off the cold sting that had cracked my heart but it was never the same after that. when our bellys were about full and we were all tuckered out from our game we were sent off to bed. we dressed ourselves in some plain sleep clothes and laid ourselves down on our designated bed, we drifted off to dreams with peace and calm no idea what the next day would hold. Except me however, I never was able to get much sleep that night.