Short story, need twist for ending....
The cold winter breeze bit hard against Michael’s face, as he wondered aimlessly around London’s East End. He was sure sunsets were beautiful, but not here. Here the air was choked with pollution, and wealth was measure by the amount of windows remaining in your apartment. He walked with his hands clasped firmly in front of him, tracing his fingers around the outline of the ring stationed on his left hand; the one reminder he had of his father. When he finally returned home he found a tattered note left on the counter.
"Sorry I couldn't be home, got called into work. Dinner in the fridge. Love Mum."
Dinner was a delicate serving of bake beans, drizzled over a bed of cold toast. After Michael’s dad passed things became a lot tighter around home, despite the fact his mother constantly burnt the candle from both ends. After he finished eating, he retired to his tiny room for the night.
The next morning Michael was awoken from his terrible sleep by a harsh beam of light, flickering over his face as his dilapidated curtains fluttered in the wind. It was the first Monday of month, which gave him some relief. As a younger child Michael had one solace and one saviour. Her name was Elisha. 3 years ago Elisha’s family moved, but they stayed in contact through the mail. Michael walked briskly to the post office, yearning for his monthly fix. He opened his mother’s post-office box and took out the sole envelope. A warm rush surged through his body and a broad smile washed over his face, her letters always made him feel better.
When he arrived home Michael positioned himself as comfortably as he could on his single bed, and then slowly opened the letter. Many moons ago Elisha had told Michael that she would come to visit him on his birthday this year, which was only one week away. He expected her letter to contain details of when she was arriving and her accommodation plans, but instead it had neither. Her letter was short and withdrawn, and quickly wiped the smile off Michael’s face; Elisha’s family was moving at the end of the week, and she could no longer come to visit. A single tear welled up in his eye, then dropped onto the paper. Elisha was his reminder that life can bring good things, and it all seemed too much. The note was crushed in his spiteful hands, and with a lazy lops it landed in the trash. “Just like my life” he thought.
The large dusty clock chimed eight o’clock, and Michael’s brain went into overtime. School started in only 30 minutes and it takes him that long to get there. He threw on jeans and a tee, grabbed his books and didn’t even bother to get a bag. He almost flew down the two flights of stairs in the apartment, avoiding the miscellaneous toys scattered on the floor. Running to the door of the small apartment Michael lost his footing, and tumbled down onto the street of the urban jungle that he called home. At first he was only concerned with picking his books up and getting moving again, but then he noticed the state of his wrist. Bend backwards at an almost ninety degree angle it was all too much for him, and Michael slipped away from consciousness.
Michael awoke badly for the second time that day, but instead of light in his eyes it was a foot to his stomach. His still teary eyes darted around the surroundings; it looked as if he had been dragged into a small alleyway. He curled up the foetal position and covered his face with his sore hands. He did not make a noise. Not even a tiny whimper as the large foot impacted on his rib cage again. He clasped his hands and began tracing an outline around his finger, but the ring wasn’t there; he had been mugged.
