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A Helping Hand


A Helping Hand

A Helping Hand
The two cops saw me as soon as I walked out of the alley way. I took off not bothering to look back because I knew it was past curfew for kids, so they would be after me. No matter what happened I couldn’t let them catch me for I would surely be sent to some horrible orphanage.
I can still clearly remember that night that at the age of twelve, my life was changed forever. After hanging out with some friends after school, I headed home for dinner at seven O’clock. When I reached my house there was a cop outside waiting for me. The fading sun reflected off of his badge, making it look like a glowing star in a blue night skyHe told me to sit down next to him and went on to tell me that my parents had died in a hit and run car crash. His words seemed to becoming at me from a distance. It took me a while to register what he was saying, but when I did I broke down crying into my arms. I sat there crying for who knows how long while he slowly rubbed my back telling me how sorry he was. My eyes eventually had no more tears to shed and the cop lead me to his police car. Right before entering the car, I remember looking back at my house and taking the entire scene in. I might have thought it was beautiful, if I wasn’t so sad. I can still the image as clear as day with the sun setting in the background, spreading a pinkish glow across the sky. It was the perfect backdrop for my tan house. The pink light even seemed to reflect off the apples on the apple tree in the front yard. Everywhere around the house the soft glow of Pacolantern pixies began to appear for the night adding perfect freckles to the scene. Everything seemed so peaceful.
The sirens on the police car were going off and which brought me back to reality. They were now full fledged after me realizing they were going to have to catch me. Lucky for me, I knew every alley way and shortcut of the surrounding area, which came from living on the streets for the past year and a half.
The night after the incident the police took me back to their headquarters and then sent me off to an orphanage. I lasted one day in the orphanage before I ran away. I roamed around the streets and eventually found shelter in an old, abandoned warehouse on the edge of London.
Slowly, the cops began to fall back until finally I couldn’t see nor hear their sirens anymore. Making my way over the abandoned war house I glanced at the shops. Glancing at the windows and I noticed my reflection shining back from the dim moonlight. I was surprised by my appearance. My brown hair was in a tangled mess and my clothes seemed to be worn down to its last threads. The dark, gold of my eyes shown with an intensity that I had never seen before. My boyhood fat had worn away giving way to a lean body. No doubt from the prospect of having to live with very little food in the past months.
Turning the corner I could see my little abandoned warehouse down the street. The woods stood glooming behind the warehouse, adding gloom to the surrounding area. Suddenly, a car turned onto the street and I had to hide behind a dumpster so I wouldn’t be seen. I peeked out watching as the car speedily drove by. Just as the car passed me, I saw a pixie fly out of a few discrete bushes, and get clipped by the car. It spiraled off in a green blur landing somewhere along the edge of the woods. As soon as the car disappeared around the corner I sprung out of my hiding spot and rushed over to see if I could find the fallen pixie.
Over by the woods, there were dense bushes spread throughout the thick grass on the ground. I started scanning the area where I thought I had seen the pixie disappear. Slowly, I started looking farther and farther from the area where I thought the pixie had crash landed. I was about to give up when I heard a soft rustle from a nearby bush. At first, I thought it had been a light breeze that had disrupted the peaceful bush when I realized there wasn’t any wind. Spreading the branches of the bush, I found a little green pixie about three to four inches in height with a broken wing. It was hard to tell if the pixie had a look of disbelief or a look of helplessness. The poor little thing looked like it was about to pass out. I reached towards to help it out, when it abruptly fainted. I barely managed to catch it before it hit the ground. Clearly there was something wrong with its wing because it was bent in a weird shape. Carefully I made the rest of the way back to my abandoned warehouse where I gently set the pixie on some soft rags that were on a crate. The warehouse was full of these wooden crates ranging from one to two feet high. I used them to create different shapes that would perform different uses, such as a bed to sleep on at night. It wasn’t anything special, but at least it was something I could call home. I walked over to another crate and pulled out an old glass and filled it with water from an old sink in the back room. I set the class down next to the pixie and for the life of me I couldn’t figure out what kind of pixie it was. When I originally saw it, it was a light green color but now it was turning a dark orange, brown color. Right before I went to bed, I decided I was going to take the pixie into my only friend at the library who knows practically everything about pixies.
The next morning I woke up and was surprised to see the pixie sitting on its bed starring at me. It had changed from its original exotic green to a mixture of dark green and blue. I wasn’t sure if it was even the same pixie, but it had to be since it was right where I had placed the bright green pixie the night before. Unsure if it could talk, I tentatively asked, “Can you talk.” It stood there impassive, continuing to stare it me with its brown, penetrating eyes. Unsure of what to do next, I just sat there on my bed gazing at it wondering what kind of pixie it could possibly be. From living in solitude so long is was used to silence.
Before I knew it, it was lunch time already. For lunch I usually went to the local food stores and ate their free samples which often tasted worse than food straight from a trash can. Either way, food is food and it keeps you from going hungry. Reluctant to leave the pixie alone I stood up and slowly stuck out my hand. Surprisingly, the pixie understood what I was getting at and climbed aboard my hand. I moved my hand up to my shirt pocket wear it jumped in.
At the local food mart called Food Savings I was lucky and was able to find some free samples of a new brand of sandwich meets. I grabbed one of each and they seemed to alternate from tasting amazing to tasting horrible. When no one was looking I grabbed another piece of all the good tasting ones. I wondered around the store some more until I found some cheese sample towards the back. As I reached to grab a nice looking white piece with random blue splotches I remembered about the Pixie in my shirt pocket. So I also grabbed a second smaller piece of the same cheese and placed it in my pocket with the pixie, but I doubted it would like it. Roaming the store, I didn’t find any other free samples and left.
Following this I went on my routine afternoon trip to the library. It was a good mile walk away from Food Savings. On my way there I kept thinking about that dang fairy that was shirt pocket. I ran through a list of possibilities in my head of what it could be. Thinking back to the night before I remembered how it was bright green. Maybe it is a Pacolantern which are bright neon colors which matches what I saw the previous night. What that didn’t explain though was why it was an exotic mixture of dark green and blue colors when I woke up this morning. Its blue hues then reminded me of blue Plumburbies. I then remembered that Plumburbies couldn’t fly, so that wasn’t it either since I remember it flying when it was hit the previous day. An image its unique green hues came back to mind from when I was gazing at it earlier this morning. It brought the image of the strange green Tamperdean pixie into my head. Maybe it could be a Tamperdean which would explain its peculiar personality of not doing much. Then I remembered reading a book at the library about Temperdeans. It said that at most Tamperdeans could grow to be 2 inches in height but usually only averaged around one and a half inches tall. So that meant it definitely wasn’t a Tamperdean since the Pixie currently in my pocket was an easy three inches tall. My mind was now at a standstill for other possibilities.
Suddenly, I found myself lying sprawled on street. I hadn’t been paying attention and had tripped when the curb gave way to the street. A nearby man offered me help up but I waved him away. I didn’t need anyone’s help. I had learned to do things for myself over the past year and was able to take care of myself. Why would I want some other persons help? It really irked me when people tried to help me like I was helpless and needed them as a chaperone to do things for me.
I glanced down into my pocket to make sure the little pixie was alright. Seeing no new damage to it except for an irritated glare, I continued heading on my way to the library. Maybe the librarian Mr. Rakouskie would be able me figure out what kind of pixie it is. Over the past several months I have visited the library more and more often. Over this time Mr. Rakouski and I have begun to slowly create a friendship of sorts. I guess you could say it is as close as a fifty year old man and a 12 year old boy can get to becoming friends. Whenever the weather is really ghastly he will allow me to stay in the library and even occasionally let me stay the night. In turn I will sit and pretend to listen to stories. Although sometimes I will grab an interesting book to read while he telling stories and he will continue to tell his stories even if I pretend I am not listening.
I walked up the old, crumbling stone step of the library to its massive wooden front doors. As I reached for the worn door handle the door was suddenly pulled open from the other side. As I looked up, I was face to face with the two cops from the night before and I could tell from their gaping mouths and their wide eyes that they recognized me too. There wasn’t even any chance for me to around and run before one of them was holding me by my arm. I decided to go for the innocent scenario and asked, “Is there a problem officers?”
In reply, the larger of the two said, “Yes, we would like to have a word with your parents.”
I was stunned by that statement and was at a loss of what to say. With no response, the smaller officer said, “Where are your parents at?”
I wanted to scream at them, “They are dead you imbeciles.” But, instead I remained silent.
In Regard to my silence the larger officer said, “Well, if you won’t tell us were your parents are we will have to take you down to the police station.” They started pulling me towards their police car on the curb where I hadn’t noticed it earlier.
In one last stab of desperation I blurted out, “My father is in the library.” They told me to lead the way and let followed closely behind me. I lead them through rows upon rows of old wooden bookshelves to Mr. Rakouskie’s office. The all knowing eyes of Mr. Rakouskie looked up from his desk and asked, “How can I help you officers?”
In a doubting voice the smaller officer said, “Is this your son?”
With a snappy voice he replied, “Well of course he is my son.”
No it was the officers’ turn to be surprised. The bigger one stammered, Well cou…..could you please ke….keep your child from going out past curfew.” They then turned and walked out the door without another word.
After the door was closed, the little pixie who had been silently lying in my pocket decided to poke its head out. Mr Rakouskie now received his second surprise of day. Immediately, he recognized the pixie and exclaimed, “By Jingo! Where on earth did you find that Mantaloo.” From hearing that word the pixie suddenly turned its head towards Mr. Rakouski in recognition. So after thanking him for saving me from the horrid cops I went on to explain how I had seen it get hit by a car the previous day and the events following it. Mr. Rakouskie then went on to explain how that was one of the rarest pixies in the world and how very little is known about them. He said they were so rare that many people believed them to be a thing of myth. Consider yourself lucky since very few people ever get to see a Mataloo in their life. At that point he glanced over at his clock and said, “You best be getting back before its past curfew. I don’t want to have to lie to anymore cops.” I thanked him for helping me and then started my long walk home.
During that walk home I entered another deep train of thought. I was thinking back to the instance when Mr. Rakouskie had claimed he was my father. The wave of relief that had washed through me had felt so good and then the new feeling of thankfulness towards Mr Rakouski was startling. I had never experienced such a feeling before but I knew one thing for sure which was that I enjoyed this new feeling. Maybe it wasn’t so after all to let people help you. I am not saying that I am going to let people help me all the time now, but I will for sure allow it to occur more often.
Abruptly a high pitched, smooth voice of a pixie entered the air saying, “Who exactly is that librarian because there are a very few people in this world who know of my kind and yet there are even a select fewer that would be able to recognize us on sight in such the manner that he did.”

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