At the end of the day…Dark hours/TWC

The sun was baking the asphalt and he could see the colorless wave of smoke rising down below.

Whole night he waited for another day. Like an unidentified coin in the well, he threw himself  into the dark hours.

He was feeling  proud of his brave endeavor. Finally he had decided to stand up against the street bullies and hold his own bag among a brat pack of disruptive rag pickers.

Today he wasn't ready to see sun so earlier so he woke up before the Sun,without giving  an option to murmur 'Good morning' in the ears of his road mates.

A torn shorts, once a trouser was dirty and black. He was eleven but looked like seven with a serious maturity in his eyes. Nobody told him that he was a cute little boy with dark bright eyes and a mop of curly hair. He knew that his larger shoes, which makes strange sounds could distract others and he didn't want anybody to get up.

On hushed tones, he crept past the sleepy bunch, grabbed his bag and tiptoed across the pavement. Very soon he crossed the dimness of the over bridge, under which they all slept. He ran fast, as fast as his little tired legs could carry him, lugging his scrap sack on his back.

He rapidly and deftly gnarled the lifeless streets and roads for bits of plastic wrappers, paper bags, plastic bottles, broken objects and other useless stuff. He was little surprised and could barely believe his luck that he was able to collect so much in such a little time.

He started weaving dreams. What he is going to do with all that money that his Master will give him? May be buy lots of food, an ice Cream, which he had seen, a fat man lick,  a day before! All these thoughts made him fly across the streets and collects scrap.

Soon his found that his bag was filled to swarming and it had become too weighty. Now he could hardly haul it along with him.

He sighed and sat down on the concrete to congregate his countless breath. Reclining on his precious bag, his eyes gazed up at the sky. Those very first rays of the morning sun were stealing mutely across the murky sky. He was sure that soon the sun would be up and the rest of his street mates would get up to start their day. Somewhere he felt proud that he had done his bit earlier then the rest. He was relaxed and could take the whole day easy.

His day is now his own day. There was so much to do. May be he could vend some books at the red lights and earn a few extra money.

Slowly the sun came up and covered him in its golden flame. A man with a mission, a mission to have two times food a day .He intended to accomplish it and seems he did.

His face shining with a beam of hope, heart filled with the dreams of tasty foods, he got up and walked to the master's shop to get money.A bright, sunny smile came to his face.

Lips singing a song
"Make a wish"

About the Author ()

I believe in creating happiness through my positive energies. I dislike to find it in all the wrong places.In the end the only things that matter is who you help and who you hurt.

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