Hughs Story part 1

There were not many people on the streets that night, only adding to the depressing tone of the place. In fact the only character there was a dirty child on a corner, maybe six or seven but, that's by no means relevant, the age of an urchin boy. Soot covered a cobbled "road", if it deserved such a name, and a few charred pieces of timber fell in a state of disarray near the edges. Red hot scraps of metal, nails, hinges, silverware even were scattered amongst the rubble. Half a wall stood to the left, plaster fallen, leaving only the singed wooden frame. Where it stood, so solitary, surrounded by other "houses" of dented wood, patches, planks, and broken glass, it made for a melancholy image. However, perhaps more horrid was the fact that it was by no means a rare sight, and that the occupants probably wouldn't be missed, anyway, and if they were it would probably only be the pain of one or two.

from my kitchen window I could with great ease observe the house, the boy and the entire solemn scene.

The dishevelled boy stood there as if waiting for something, or someone. He was mumbling something under his breath but noone heard what he said. His eyes did not stop pouring with tears although his face was emotionless and cold. He would stand staring for hours at a time and only ever stopped to kneel down, clasp his hands together and pray at regular intervals. Often thieves would sneak down the street, digging through the mess to steal anything unburnt, which I could not imagine to exist, but the boy ignored them. The urchin boy seemed to have a beautiful but soot covered crucifix clamped between his bony pale fingers that I swear I once saw but can not imagine where. He looked as though he was going to be sick. I was very interested in him and I was not sure why, he was just a small bony urchin boy. In fact the only odd thing about him was the gorgeous hair poking out from under his hat (Though only flimsy strands were visible around his forehead, a lump on the back of his head beneath the worn cloth of his headgear suggested a bun of some shape). He was still mumbling something and I could not ignore him. My brain was filled with intrigue. I walked past him hoping he would not notice me and what he was mumbling amazed me. "Mummy, Come outside. I am waiting Mummy. I love You. Please come outside." He repeated quietly with the voice of one who has given up but is still somewhat hopeful. He paused, stared at the door that was hanging by a hinge and said "Please, Please Mummy d-don't leave me" He said in an unbelievably soft tone of voice.