Young Writers Society

The grammatical mistakes in the dialogue are deliberate.

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A grin cracked across his face as he slowly lifted his arms into the air. He loved this part the most: watching their eyes grow wider and wider until they were as large as the sockets they occupied, and their muscles tensing as his arms rose higher and higher. The wind began to swirl around his body in a huge eddy, grabbing the leaves by his feet and sucking in nearby dust particles in the air. Gasps rippled through the crowd as the dust began to swallow the boy in a thick, tornado-like wind as it snaked upwards. The boy held his breath. Now for the finale.

He threw his arms out, thrusting them out in front of him. The wind did as he commanded as it always had done for as long as he could remember. The dust and the leaves suddenly exploded in all directions, hurtling through the air and into the crowd. Stunned cries, yells and hacking coughs broke out across the crowd as the dust burst into their faces.

For a few moments, the air was thick with dust and leaves fluttered down to the ground like green rain, and only coughs could be heard through the dirty mist. A dust curtain hung in the air then it cleared, revealing the startled and huddled people behind it as they gazed around until their eyes finally landed upon the grubby street urchin in front of them.

“And that’s all, folks!” the boy yelled, sweeping off his blackened newsboy cap, revealing his tremendously turbulent, short jet-black hair and bowing as if it had been his most magnificent performance.

It had indeed been his most magnificent performance so far.

Cheers and clapping erupted from the crowd and cries of amazement rang through the air.

“That was bloody brilliant!”

“Dead wicked!”

“The dog’s bollocks!”

“Again! Again!”

And there was always the, “How did you do it?!”

The kid grinned.

“Magic!” he shouted, and winked mischievously at the crowd. But none of the people in the crowd realised just how much truth the kid’s words contained.

They always wanted more wherever he travelled but he was running out of places to go to and fast. He would never go back to the same place for fear of being caught out but each time was rewarding. This was the part that he always looked forwards to the most.

He held out his cap and almost immediately hands reached out, dropping coins and notes into it until it was beginning to overflow.

“You was real good there, kid,” someone yelled, clapping him on the back. “Real good!”

Then the last few people came, dropping their coins into his cap with a quick smile and a nod as they scurried off into the distance. The urchin looked down at his cap. Silver and bronze coins winked up at him in the sunlight and grimy notes fluttered, pinned down by the coins. For a few moments, the boy’s eyes shone as he took in the sight. This was brilliant. With this amount, he could buy a good few meals for a day for all of them and they’d all be happy. Burgers and chips, sausage rolls, cake, instant ramen, spinach bread… They would all have an epic feast, the most epic feast that they’d ever had in months!

A growl, the beast in his stomach awakened to yawn, snapping the boy from his daydreams. It was only then that he became aware of how hungry he was. He hadn’t eaten for a day and nor had the others. He had to save the money before he was caught with it. The urchin’s eyes darted from side to side as he scanned the area for the police, holding his breath. It was clear of the police and they weren’t patrolling the area…yet.

He let out a sigh of relief and dug around in his pockets with his free hand, searching for his wallet – the wallet that he had stolen a few weeks ago off an unfortunate and unsuspecting businessman in the streets - and found it. Placing his cap on the ground, he unzipped his wallet and began to stuff as many notes and coins as he could into it. When the wallet was stuffed to the brim and he could just about zip it up again, he dropped the rest of the money into his trouser pockets.

As he looked around at his surroundings again, a nervous ripple of electricity crackled through his hair before he bent down to grab his cap and place it on his head once more. A last minute glance to observe the place before he left it for good. From this high view that overlooked London, he could see the water glinting in the orange glow of the sun in the flooded districts of London. 

Fifty years ago, the global water levels had sharply risen, giving way as the temperatures increased and the icebergs melted. Thirty percent of Britain’s land was lost to the water and the population was squashed even further together. People fought for space and London was further expanded into the countryside. Essex had almost vanished off the map, consumed by the monstrous size of the ever growing city of London. Houses were built on top of one another and it had become common for a family of six or even seven children to live in a two bedroomed flat. Immigration had been brought to a screeching halt forty years ago in an attempt to cease the growing population of Britain but still, the population grew. Eventually, electricity became a rationed resource and gas, water and oil even rarer and more difficult to get hold of as fossil fuels declined. Now countries such as Russia and China hoarded fossil fuels, refusing to trade theirs with smaller countries. Weapons were built and army training and units intensified and increased. Tensions were rising higher and higher and it wouldn’t startle the world if a third world war broke out. But this time, it would be fought with nuclear weapons and humanity would blast itself off the face of the doomed planet. Soon, once every man reached the age of eighteen, they were automatically enlisted into the army and had to undergo three gruelling years of training before they were allowed to live outside the army barracks and get a job of their own. And if the war began, there would be a call to arms and every man who had endured the training would fight in the battle for their country. For Britain.

The boy wondered if the houses underwater were still there and a shiver ran down his spine when he pictured whole streets immersed in water, never to be seen or heard of again.

I need to get out of here.

He turned on his heels and began walking in the direction downhill where most of the people were heading. Although his hiding place was in a different direction, he had to blend into the crowd as much as possible to avoid suspicion. He only had one chance and he couldn’t afford to lose it.

Pushing through the crowds, he kept his head down and avoided eye contact, pulling his cap down so that it hid his eyes from view. He gently nudged past people, quickly apologising.

“‘Scuz please, sorry, mister,” he mumbled. “’Scuz please, sorry, miss.”

The market was crowded here today but that was good. The police would have a harder time trying to single him out from the crowd. Besides, there were plenty of other urchins in this crowd too, their faces grimy with dirt and clothes reduced to filthy rags that hung feebly onto their thin bodies. The crowd stamped their feet against the cobblestoned ground in unison and their voices lost in the network of conversations. Here, it was almost impossible to be heard above the constant humming of voices and the rhythm of drumming feet.

Somewhere, below the crowd, the network of alleyways began, secret and hidden tunnels, maze-like in the city that could only be found if a person knew London inside out. They were the perfect escape route for criminals or thieves on the run from the police. One could easily become lost within the network of alleyways if they had no idea where they were headed or had a clue as to how the alleyways worked. There were even rumours that some people who had become lost their way in the alleyways had even starved to death. But only desperate people sought out the alleyways and risked becoming lost.

And that was just where the urchin was headed.

The boy headed on, pushing through the crowds of people. He was close. Only a few more minutes of walking and he would be able to slip into the alleyways, safe and sound. He began to cut through the crowd to get to the other side of the pathway through the market. It was just then that he felt someone’s shoulder smash into him. Pain shot through his shoulder and the impact knocked his breath from his chest, leaving him gasping for air. He whipped his head around, his face fixed into a glare but the person had already vanished into the crowds. As he paused to clutch his shoulder with one hand, he didn’t notice his wallet slip out of his trouser pocket and silently thud to the ground.

He continued walking, glowering and rubbing his shoulder, grumbling under his breath. The kid was oblivious of his missing wallet.

“Hey, wait!” the cry cut through the air and the boy froze. His eyes widened and his breath caught in his throat. His heart began to race and adrenaline pulsed through his veins. Energy surged through his body like a shockwave and his instincts screamed at him to run.

It was the police. The sodding police! They’d noticed him!

“You dropped something!”

These were the words set to change the urchin’s life.