“WHAM!”

There was a loud noise that attacked my ears followed by a sharp pain in my back when I awoke this morning.  I had hit the dirt outside of the Bunk-In after Mr. Attendant threw me along with my nightstand towards the road at early dawn, though one wouldn’t call it a nightstand at first sight. The wooden-plastique thing had been slapped together with nails and other sticky substances I could find, and it held what little nick-nacks I could keep safe at the bunk-in.  

My poor nightstand released a pathetic thud as it smashed to bits into the dirt, scattering all my belongings in a plume of dust: some goofy wooden carvings from the chef at my uncle’s diner, a snapped crystal, a pink-tinged plastic stick that once glew long ago, and a discarded note I’d found in the trash behind an infamous bar that was once stained by droplets though I’m not sure what it says, as well as some other oddities I’ve collected over the years.

“Am I being evicted, Mr. Attendant?” Mr. Attendant's face was flushed red and scrunched together to make a ghastly scowl that only got angrier and angrier as he digested my question.   He was a short, portly Abyssian with white, greasy strands of hair that hugged his wrinkled face; he almost looked like a rat from where I stood.   As I got on my feet and dusted myself off, more of my belongings were being tossed at me from the door. 

“YEARS!  YEARS,  I PUT UP WITH YOU AND YER TRIFLES, BOY!”  Mr. Attendant now carried what little clothes I had bunched into a ball and was scattering it piece by piece on his doorstep to emphasize every point he made,  “I ONLY TOOK YOU IN BECAUSE OF YER POOR MOTHER, AND EVEN THEN I HAD MY DOUBTS!  I’VE BUNKED ALL MANNER OF DELINQUENTS, BUT YER WITHOUT QUESTION THE WORST RUNT I EVER–” He cut himself off to catch his breath, and grabbed the final item of mine: a worn leather case which he promptly casted out along with the rest of my clothes.  

“Careful! That’s my brother’s–”

“YER BROTHER WAS A DEADBEAT TOO!”  And with that, Mr. Attendant slammed the door to the bunk-in.  My brother’s case had smashed open revealing some of his old sheets that still smelled like him and mom, and a wide leather scabbard embroidered with yellow stars that dotted the body up to the V-shaped wrap just before the opening where the blade of a cinq would rest.

“Er– good morning, Mackie!” Acou had rounded the corner just in time to see the end of my eviction, “What did you do this time?” He had pieced together what happened with only a glance; he’s always been quick like that.

“Why is it always my fault when something bad happens?” Acou had a look of  displeasure upon hearing my answer, so I began explaining to him my side, “Yesterday, I was in the corner of the Wharf and stole a chance to see the light from Starlight!”

“You got to see Starlight?!” Acou looked on with eyes of envy; after all, not kids like us get a chance to see anything past the outskirts of the Wharf.  

“You idiot, Starlight is too far to see.  But the lights from Starlight shone through the musk just like I remembered!”  Candor had taken me to the lights before in Crenmite’s Elevator.  I remember him saying at the time that he would take me to Starlight one day, just like how our father had taken him some years ago. 

 “How did you afford to ride Crenmite’s Elevator?”  Crenmite was the de facto-mayor of the West Wharf, and his family owned most of the buildings, most stunning of which was a sky needle in the West Wharf that he had dubbed Crenmites Elevator.  

“I didn’t pay.  Now help me pick all this up–” My clothes and nick-nacks were being blown away by a strong gust of wind and were swiftly losing me.

 “You stole a ride to the top?!  Are you insane?!”

“I couldn’t help myself…” I turned my head towards the cool gust and away from Acou to hide on my face the embarrassment that was soon to come, “I had that compulsion again.”  The coolness of the wind felt nice on my warm cheeks.

“All Abyssians have what you have, only they somehow manage to overcome it when they hit your age.  How come you’re still being led by your tingle?”

It was true that most Abyssians lose their sense of curiosity at some point in their childhood, but mine had never seemed to go away; in fact, I’d say it's gotten far stronger and more compelling over the years.

“Can we just not talk about it?  Don’t you want to hear about the lights?” I could see the glint in Acou’s eyes when I said Starlight.  Even now, it’s been my dream to leave the Wharf and see the city of Storks, and it’s something he and I have spent countless hours fantasizing over. 

“What colour were they?! Did they look like waves or ripples?!?! How fast did they–”

“First, help me pick up all my stuff.”  Through all of this we hadn’t moved from the front of the bunk-in, and Mr. Attendant was starting to scowl at us through his little window.  “Here, suck your neck in so you can carry all this.” Acou strained himself to push his bulbous green neck into his throat as I overloaded him with my treasures and clothes.  His webbed hands are perfect for carrying so much.

“Hey Mackie, what about your scabbard?”

“Don’t touch that.” I reached down and took the scabbard, wiping the dirt and dust off before examining it further.  The leather was worn and cracked between the tiny triangular bumps, and pieces of the thread that formed the stars had been frayed or ripped.  I took the small straps attached to the V and tied them around my belt.  “Careful not to drop any of my things, Acou.” 

We started down the alley next to the bunk-in and into the maze that was the Wharf.  The entire city ran along the Wall, and towered to the musky smog that blocked the sky.  Buildings built along the Wall were always nicer, I guess because it was cheaper to make a building when you only needed three walls.  Away from the Wall, the towers looked more like jagged spires, erroneously stretching into the sky.  They were made from an amalgamation of bricks, cement, cinder blocks, and whatever scrap the architects could get their hands on.  

As we rounded the corner behind the bunk-in I saw one such building, the Maylight Lot; its southeast corner was being held up by the torn out frame of a far older wooden structure whose wall sconces still hung on either side of the doorway.  On windy days like this, Maylight swung in the wind, as did most buildings, making loud cracking noises from bricks that sometimes trailed off the sides after being crushed under the weight.  If the innumerable clothes lines above me weren’t there, it’d look like the world was folding in on itself into a gray blanket above.

 

“Mackie?” Acou stared at me with anticipation as we walked, “Now?”

“The lights were pinkish, and poured through the musk in bursts.” We left the dirt path and eventually came into a gravel walkway, an old city project leftover from Crenmite’s edicts that never went anywhere.  I guess the intention was to make travel easier, but the gravel was quickly dispersed by all the traffic in the West Wharf.  “And when the lights scattered the musk, I could see their origin over in Starlight’s direction.  It was like a bright lotus surrounded by its petals, and the petals stretched all along the horizon.”

“What did the light feel like?”

“Warm… sacred even.”  It’s rare that anyone in the Wharf, especially those most would call gutter trash like us, get to see the lights from Starlight; though, no matter who they are, I don’t think anyone would have passed up a chance to see something so transcendent.

 

“Sigh~ I wish I could have been there… by the way, you’re not going back to the bunk-in are you?”

“No, I’m not.”

“So that means you have nowhere to go, right?”

“...Yes, that’s right.”

“Yay!  You can come live with us at Trash!”  While Acou’s expression lit up, I was slowly dreading the long walk to Trash.  The generations of homeless before us had turned that garbage dump in-between the scrapers into a square of sorts for people who had nowhere else to go; mostly children and old termites made bitter by their mistakes in life.  “The others are gonna love this!”

“Please don’t tell them until I’ve mentally prepared myself.”  Acou made an impressive face by sticking his long tongue out, almost letting it fall to his waist.

“Why don’t you like Trash? They look up to you, you know?”

“They look up to my brother–”

“But your brother hasn’t been around for years!  Now you lead the pack!”

“Please, don’t say it like that.”  My face scrunched up to my nose after hearing the word, “lead”.  I don’t at all hate them, but despite what Acou said I know they only listen to me because of Candor; after all, Candor’s the only reason those kids stayed together and staked out their place in Trash.  

“Mackie you can’t keep–” Acou had caught himself before he finished, but now I was also curious about what he thinks I shouldn't keep doing. 

“I won’t get mad.  Just say what you have to say”. 

“Mackie… you can’t keep looking for ways to distance yourself.  I mean, living at that bunk-in and trying to separate yourself from your friends.” 

“I’m not separating myself from anyone, I’m just trying to make it easier for when I finally leave.”

“There you go talking about leaving again.  You’re trying to distance yourself from me now, aren’t you?  We’ve known each other since forever–”

“Acou, I’m not distancing myself like I already said so leave it at that!”  At my blunt rejection, Acou lowered his head in a dejected slouch, angling his head so that I could see his sour face.  A mutter came from under his breath. 

“...You said you wouldn’t get mad…”  

“Look, Acou, I'm just– I don’t want to weigh myself down with these kids only for me to leave; it wouldn’t be the first time for some of them.”  Acou lightly nodded his head and the rest of the walk was made in silence.

 

Through the narrow buildings a light from the rising sun peaked out through the smog, and the pleasant silence we had shared was interrupted by a jarring scream.

“It’s mine!  I found it!”

“You mean you stole it!”

“Same diff!” Two Abyssians no older than me were fighting over a small brown box with a shiny metal piece on its side waist deep in a mess of trash.  One had grabbed the other by the arm with one hand, and had his shirt by the collar in the other.  “I found it first!”  The Abyssian with the box shoved the kid to the ground and ran towards a greenish-brown gate wedged narrowly between two enormous brick buildings which swung open as the kid pushed his way past it.  The other kid quickly sprung to his feet and followed him past the gate, one of the many entrances into Trash.

 

Acou and I both arrived at the gate, a solid bronze door who’s latch had long since tarnished; similarly, green spots had dotted the rest of the fence underneath chipped paint, which left a gruesome impression on anyone who dared to visit.  To one side of it were weathered wooden planks used to vault piles of plastic and waste, and although they looked rotten from the rain, a few were still firm enough to hold the mound’s weight.  People who used this entrance or walked by would simply dump whatever they hadn’t a need for in front of it, and after a while someone would be annoyed enough to chuck whatever was littered before the gate into the mound.  One day it’ll collapse on some unsuspecting fellow, I’m sure of it.

Past the gate was a wondrous place truly deserving of the name, “Trash”.  Mounds of litter and waste had been pushed aside to make room for many of its rugged denizens.  Bare trees looked to spring up from the mounds, although they were here long before the garbage.  The entire square had at one point been a garden of sorts; or at least, that’s what my brother told me.

“MACKIE!  OVER HERE!”  An obnoxiously loud group of kids had gathered around a ragged canopy tent, and underneath was all kinds of objects like dented trash cans and plastic chairs with a gray powdery crud lining them.  Normal seating arrangements for those with very little, although most of the children still sat on the patchy grass and damp soil.  

The rest of Trash was a similar sight. The walls of the buildings made the edges of Trash were congested with tents and boxes, and sometimes a makeshift canopy similar to our own.  An array of wires hung from building sides, curving in a droop from being weighed down by all the fabrics drying along the wires.  Similar to my own, the fabrics were torn and stretched with patchwork and rudimentary sewing holding together what was left.  No one here could afford to go a night without some kind of protection from the frigid winds that cascaded through the rickety buildings, especially in the winter. 

People here took whatever they could to stay as comfortable as possible.  Dealers and scammers would work the square looking for anyone with something shiny to trade, and children played in what little grass was left until it rained, then they played in the mud.  It rained all the time in the Wharf, as the city was perpetually ridden with smog.  

The few adults in Trash, whether they were old, sick, or out of options, did little to control the situation.  I think that’s why my brother was so special to these kids.  It can be said that most here are desperate, sure, but none could ever claim to be hungry or without a place to sleep.  He’s what made that possible for them.

We approached the tent and were surrounded by a mixed bag of many shapes and sizes, and beyond these kids, in clear view, I saw the Abyssian from before trying to pass the box off to a Beat dealer.

“Wassup up Mackie, where did you get all this shit from?”  The kid from before who had screamed my name pointed to my belongings that Acou was carrying.

“Buzz off shortstack, that shit is mine.”

“Yours?!  That stuff just looks like garbage, haha!  There’s plenty of that to go around!”

The rest of the group also chuckled as Acou sat my things in the middle of the tent to keep it away from outsiders.

“Acou wait–”

“Are you… staying with us?!”  The obnoxious kid’s eyes glistened with anticipation.  Past him I saw the dealer reject the wooden box as the one kid from outside chucked it into a fairly large mound of garbage that was next to the transaction.
“Only for a little while–”

“!”  A collective cheer was let out as the kids started to chitter and chatter like they did before I had arrived.  All at once they attempted to start a conversation with me; as they did, new kids would butt in and the old ones would lose interest altogether going back to their own cliques underneath the tent.  

“Why’d you come back–”

“Did you bring anything for us–” Before I could answer any of them, a new conversation began, and then another and another.  Past the crowd I could see the small brown box on the face of the mound, and as the wind hit the unstable pile of black plastic bags and other indescribables it shifted the mound sinking the box deeper and deeper into the garbage and further from my sight.  As it sank deeper, I felt a cog start to churn the contents of my stomach.

“Gu- guys!”  I shouted and the children all turned my way, giving me as much attention as their tiny bodies could allow,  “I won’t be staying long, so don’t get too excited.”  The kids let out a collective groan as Acou shot a glare at me.

“Mackie, you're doing it again!”  Acou loudly whispered at me but I could no longer hold back.  Dividing the crowd by clasping my hands together and spreading them apart I pierced my way past them and to the large mound where the small box had been casted away.  The mound had been formed through years of negligence as the black and white trash bags that created the base were torn and dirty, and the mess of disposable plastics: green, blue, yellow, and clear had bled over its base and to the ground.  When too much trash covered the broken and sparse cement which marked Trash’s footpaths, people who walked along would kick it to the side or throw it back to the top of the mound, repeating the process once more. I climbed up the shifting face of the mound which now looked more like a mountain, while the kids I left behind crowded the bottom, curious to see what I was up to.

I secured my footing on a sturdy steel bowl which trickled to the bottom as soon as my foot left it, being picked up by an onlooker who would probably go on to use it as a raincatcher.  I climbed further up and as I did, my belly was thrown into further disarray while my tingle continued to swirl around my insides until I finally reached into where I had last saw it, my hand brushing past cold, moist somethings hidden below the surface, when it finally reached a small, solid cube.  I reeled back and resurfaced to the surprise of many of the younger kids below who were even more confused, contrary to the older ones who had clicked their tongues as if this were typical behavior for me.  

 

Checking my hand for the box I instead found my treasure to be the corner of a moist piece of timber.  Had I been mistaken in what the two kids had thrown away?  Carefully, I slid back down to solid ground, and into the kids who were laughing and gossiping about me and my past incidents.

“...Did you know he once…”

“...Followed them into their home…”

“...Ran with it when they discovered him…”

 

The laughing continued as I put the worthless timber on the ground, and as I did I saw from behind the group a cloaked figure. They stuck out for being so much taller than the rest of us, and something about them was hard for me to look at, as it seemed that my eyes wandered every time I brought the figure into focus; despite this, I could tell it was looking at me.  My eyelids grew heavier the more I looked, forcing me to use my peripheral.  

The rest of the kids were ignorant to the cloaked figures' presence, and it easily slipped past the crowd of snickering children and a few disappointed adults, leaving as quickly as it came before I could register what had even happened.

 

“Why’s your face red?”

“Shut up!”  Acou, who had shown up late as he was organizing my things, diligently followed me back under the tent, stepping on every piece of rubbish on our way as it was impossible to miss in Trash.  Bottles, cookware, clothes, discarded toys, and especially rotten food littered my new home and stank worse than the smog.  Under the tent I took a much needed rest from the children, and there I saw another familiar face who hadn’t joined in with the rest of us at the mound.  

“Mei, is that you?”  Legs crossed on a corner pole of the tent, the girl whom I thought was Mei had her nose in a decrepit notebook.  The binding was cracked and partially torn towards the bottom, and the face of the notebook was the only one with a cover; a red fabric with brown splotches near the bottom corners and along the base.

“Mack-...”  She opened her mouth and uttered what was partially my name until she went quiet, her mouth still moving although nothing could be heard.

 

Having looked me up and down, she closed her notebook and rested her head on her now lifted knee, staring at the ground.  

“Acou, is that really Mei?”  

“She’s been a little weird lately.”  Acou wasn’t kidding.  The Mei I knew wasn’t any different from a boy; a strong headed Ovis, she’d wrestle kids twice her size and spew enough profanity to make a veteran blush.  Yet here she was, quiet and… distant.

“She’s been that way since about a year ago, when she came to live here permanently with only that thing on her.”  Acou pointed towards the book she now held to her side.  Mei used to stay here every so often outside of just coming here to play, it was off-and-on but I don’t think I ever asked her why.  Inching closer she pulled the notebook towards her chest, as Acou and I joined her on the ground, looking back at the crowd of kids dispersing into all directions.

Thinking back to my ordeal with the strange box, the events of what had happened soon left my mind.  My recollection, even of the cloaked figure, was in a hazy state in my mind, as if it were only a dream; though I knew that just moments ago, they had happened.

“Feels like old times doesn’t it?”  Acou brought me back to reality.  Sitting with one knee raised to his chest, and his other leg stretched out, he looked at me with a warm smile.

“It does.”  Acou and I spoke softly as we reminisced.  Back then the group was much smaller, and at its head was Candor.  “I just wish she were still here…” Mom had died a couple of years ago, a few months after Candor left.  

“Not your brother?”  They all looked at my brother as a hero, I more than others would know best what that’s like; afterall, he was once my hero too.  But leaving like he did when I needed him most, I thought it was better not to reply to Acou and go back to the moment of peace, just the three of us.  Tomorrow I’ll get reacquainted with a familiar business of ours.