[i]“Eternally fleeing from the gallows,
Little children hiding in the shadows.” [/i]

Men in police uniforms were running through dark alleyways, flashlights in one hand and baton in the other. From the shouts this small squad of four men were yelling, these law-enforcers were chasing people. Not far from there, two young individuals were sitting behind a garbage can, a young boy and a fair young woman. Ragged and dirty, the girl was holding the boy tightly in her arms, pressing him firmly against her body, as if she thought she could bury the small boy within her to protect him from harm’s way. Their breathing was erratic, but as the shouting police officers closed in near their position, they stopped making any sound, as if their body suddenly turned lifeless, giving out from exhaustion. Shutting themselves from the outside world, the children closed their eyes, their ears stopped hearing, their minds wandering away to what could’ve been a more happy place. 

After a few minutes that seemed to last an eternity, nothing could be heard. The yells from the policemen, their heavy footsteps, their baton hitting walls and bins, they were all gone. Waking up first from her panicked trance, the fair woman opened her eyes slowly, scanning the dark alleys with a quick glance. The lights of the flashlights were gone with the sounds. Sighing in relief, her head lowered to the boy she was still holding tightly in her arms, his head now buried in her chest. The girl allowed herself to smile, gently petting the boy’s golden hair. They were safe, for now, she thought to herself. Safe they may be, but the courageous little lady knew better than to stay in the same place too long. She lifted her young brother from the ground, carrying him into her pale, delicate arms and began walking, sticking to the shadows of this alley.

Eventually, the boy woke up in his sister’s arms, feeling a certain familiar comfort, the only way he felt truly safe. Watching all around him, the boy saw nothing but a desolate underground, hidden from the day’s warming sun. Not only it was cold and dark, but the stench of rot and waste was overwhelming. It didn’t take long for the boy to realize they were currently in the slums, located in a tunnel just by the sewers. As horrible of a place it was to live, it was probably the only place Jonathan felt a small amount of safety, outside from her sister’s loving embrace. The slums were a place were poor people strived to survive, and where people who didn’t want to be found came. 

It was a desolate sight to see those two children, dirty and messy, ragged and bruised, in such a pitiful place. Although sad to see, those two siblings never showed weakness, their eyes burning with a passion to leave this place and find somewhere they could call home and live without the constant fear of being chased for who they are, or at least what they chose to be. 

It was nighttime, the air grew colder than usual. Clad in brown, dirty blankets, brother and sister joined other people hiding in the slums, heating themselves by the fire of a rusted bin. Most of these poor souls had a pitiful look in their eyes, just as if they almost had no hope in life anymore. As if it reflected their inner thoughts, the flames burning in the metal bin was still and quickly dying, its light dim and depressing.

[i]“In the darkest night
Warming the hearts of lost souls
A wild fire is burning.”[/i]

As the young lady recited these poetic lyrics, the dying flame burst forth, bigger, brighter and warmer than before. The sad look on the face of the poor men and women standing by the fire changed to one of surprise, their eyes now fixated on the young woman with the voice of an angel. Shyly avoiding the attention she attracted, Stella turned her head towards the bin fire, now burning brightly. Proud of her sister’s display of magical poetry, little Jonathan had a wide smile drawn on his face. While many were terrified of what Poets could do, this small community knew not all of them were walking disasters. Among them was a fine Poet, using her talents for the greater good of the misers gathered in these slums. 

“I wish I could do the same!” the boy said cheerfully.

Jonathan turned to his sister, hoping to see a smile on Stella as he praised her skills. Instead, he was struck by an expression of grief on his sister’s face, of which tears began running down her cheeks. Met with such emotions, the boy’s cheerful expression was replaced by worry, as he wondered what he said to put her in such a state.

“Please, do not say such things.” Stella finally answered, a hint of guilt in her voice.