Man And His Baby

• Grace Marshall, Grade 8
• Short Story
• 2010

A man stood at the train station, baby in hand. Crying was nonstop for she needed a feed. The man did not have bottle nor was food for he himself hungry. This train station was empty and had seemed not to have been used for years. This train station was like most others, underground and graffiti everywhere. There used to be an array of dark blue painted seats, sales booths, and vending machines, that that had all gone, now there was one old run-down bench covered in thin blankets and old second hand jackets covered in a thin layer of frost; old sales booths, and broken vending machines. Mice, rats and cats scurried past him as he tried as hard as he could to settle the baby. It was cold and damp in the small station, the man and his baby has been sick for a week now, they were both growing weak and could not go on another night. A daughter, of 2 months of age kept wailing for she longed for her mother, the man was almost in tears, for he too, longed for the baby’s mother.
“Hush little one” the man said frailly “I’ll find food.” So the man set off, searching in the abandoned station for anything that could be edible for the baby, her needs in front of his. For an hour and a half the man searched, but food was nowhere to be found.
The man had had enough; he knew he couldn’t look after his child anymore. He knew if he kept her, her chances would not be high.
“I’ll put you somewhere safe.” He whispered. The man pulled a pen from his jacket and grabbed a discarded wrapper from the floor of the empty train station. Quickly he scribbled on the wrapper, and slid on her mother’s locket.
He walked up the stairs, out of the train station, into the frosty night. The baby wailed even louder. The man walked for what seemed like 30 hours until he came upon a doorstep. Upon this doorstep was a door; of a deep dark green paint that seemed to be peeling but this was unsure for the only light that was given was a small flickering candle which light has almost gone out inside a small lantern on top of a small table inside the window next to the door. On this door was a plaque painted the same depressing green as the door, although this plaque has golden letters painted on it that claimed ‘Burley st Orphanage’
“I’ll leave you here, you’ll be safe” the man assured his daughter as she was sobbing for she was too tired to cry and was starting drift asleep. The man carefully placed her on the doorstep and rang the doorbell. The man walked away as fast as he could in his fragile little body as it started to snow and he went back to his train station, to slowly freeze to death.