Life On The Street

Excellence Award in the 'Step Write Up 2011' competition

The frost-bitten grass crunched beneath my feet as I jogged through the undergrowth on my way out of my makeshift forest home. It was a crisp autumn morning. Colourful scenes filled the area and squeals of joy and laughter filled the morning air. I wished I could be as happy as those people were. But I never could be. I couldn’t let go of what had happened to me as a child. I had lost my parents. Yes, I’m a street kid. I learnt to fend for myself ever since I was ten. Now, five years later, I am used to it. It’s my life.

Today’s challenge dawned… finding food. This was a daily task but it never got any easier. I had survived off the earth for the last few weeks and I was ready for some actual food! I ran through the back streets of the nearby town searching for an open door. Nothing.

As I ran by a café a few hours later, a half-eaten sandwich lay on the table. It was desperate but I was determined to eat some actual food! Throwing away the bitten end, I ate the other part. My teeth sunk into the fresh bread. It had been so long and I hadn’t realised how much I had missed it! But it all seemed too easy…

The shop keeper saw me and had obviously judged me by my tattered black hoodie and torn jeans. He yelled out in an angry voice. My heart was pumping. What would happen if I was caught? Jail? Foster Care? I ran, with the rest of the sandwich in my hand. I had to return ‘home’ to think about what had happened and finish my meal but I passed an unmanned stall on the way. No money or food was there but one orange left under the stall.

I looked around to make sure no one was watching and quickly slipped behind the stall. A few seconds later I emerged with a chunky pocket and a smile on my face. No one had suspected a thing! I jogged past some elderly pedestrians as they stared me down. I was used to this sort of thing. Many years of death stares and stereotyping had hardened me to this. They didn’t understand what it was like, never will; they don’t understand what I have endured in my short life.

I continued on my way unfazed. People muttered as I jogged past. Typical. I looked up; I was almost home after my long day. I reached my trees, their leaves draped like a roof over my poor excuse of a house.

After eating the rest of my sandwich, I waited before tucking into my fresh orange. Today was a good day. I was very happy at what I had achieved but tomorrow would be different, I knew that it wouldn’t be as easy. I snuggled down into my makeshift bed, made of leaves and woven grass, before drifting off to sleep.

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