“Excuse me, Mister?” It was cold and dark. A poor chimney sweeper approached a man who dressed mainly in black. The man’s features were hidden due to him facing forward and striding down the empty street. The young lad ran up and pulled on the man's leg, attempting to get his attention after failing the first time by calling out to him.
Without thinking, the man swept his foot aside, shoving the child back and did not even bother to glance back at him
The boy paused, feeling intimidated. “I didn't mean to be impolite, Sir. But I'm having awful trouble peeling my orange.” The boy told the man. “I was hoping you could help me. I am quite hungry.”
The strange man stopped, and the boy looked hopeful. He turned around, slowly, and snatched the orange out of the boy’s thin, soot-covered hands. “You want me to peel this?” The voice was harsh and unpleasant.
“If you would- If you’d be so kind.” The boy responded. The man smirks, he looks like he is about to peel the orange but instead tosses it to the floor. He squashes the orange underfoot, with the juice squirting out like blood.
“It's unpeeled; eat it up.” The boy looked down at his squashed fruit as the man let out a snarling laugh. “I said to eat up; don't be wasteful, you ungrateful little brat.” With his foot aimed at the boy's ankle, the boy fell face first onto the orange's remains.
The boy stays still for a moment, and then attempts to lift his head back up but is pressed back down by the man’s foot.
A few moments go by, and the man pulls the child by the hair and crouches down. “Tastes good, doesn’t it?” He said with a menacing smile, stretching ear-to-ear, speaking over the sound of the child spitting up dirt and pieces of orange.
Then the man stood up and turned away, vanishing into the darkness of night. The boy was left on the ground, with tears in his eyes, realising he would not be able to eat tonight.
Damn child. He was asking for it. Got in my blimmin’ way.
