For the Second Creative Writing Challenge Task 4, we were asked to write a story about a real hero. His name is Hristo, and he's opened his home to 22 orphans, homeless, and destitute people.
I decided to focus on that first encounter with a boy that he had which sparked it all.
Tomorrow
The truck shrieked in protest at the sudden stop as the driver noticed a new pile of garbage stacked in the alleyway behind the small restaurant. The driver leaned out his open window, scrutinizing the pile from a distance, deciding it was worth a look today. Sometimes all he could find were empty tin cans and food that was moldy, but amidst the real garbage were oftentimes gems that he could make use of - either repurposing or taking to the recycling plant for some extra cash.
Hristo poked at a garbage bag, the contents feeling mushy, so he quickly tossed that to the side. After some further rummaging, he unearthed an old transistor radio with one speaker partially removed, hanging on by a few thin wires.
“The copper in there could catch quite a few leva,” he mused as he hefted the radio and headed back to his truck. As he turned, however, he nearly tripped over the boy standing in his path.
He looked to be about 10 years old, but all that he could see was big brown eyes amongst a nest of matted brown hair and dark smudges. The boy held out something in his fist toward Hristo.
“Please, sir, I found these,” the small voice spoke timidly as he dumped the contents of his small hand into Hristo’s palm. Small shreds of copper wire shone in the morning light, and Hristo didn’t fail to notice the cuts on the boy’s hands. Without proper gloves, scavenging wires could be painful work.
“I can find more,” said the boy, “if you can take me to the recycling plant.” He gestured to his truck. “I’m good at finding things. Do we have a deal?”
Hristo looked at the boy, his face saddened. “Where are you parents, son?” The boy looked away, trying to figure out what the man wanted to hear, not sure if the truth was the right thing to say, “I…I don’t have any, I don’t think.”
A sigh escaped Hristo’s lips as he considered. He knew what it was like, both of his parents were orphans. He didn’t know this boy’s story, but he did know the hardships in store for him. But everyone’s got problems to overcome. He certainly had his own.
“Where are you staying now, at the orphanage? I’ll drive you back there,” Hristo finally said as he walked past the child toward the truck.
“No! I can’t go back there!” the boy exclaimed, then quietly added, “they won’t take me back.”
The crestfallen look on the boy’s face tugged at Hristo’s heartstrings. His parents raised him better than this, didn’t they? But how could he support a child, having struggles just to stay above water himself?
The boy, seeing an opening, stepped closer, “I promise I’ll work hard and earn my keep!”
And that’s when Hristo’s heart broke.
“No,” he said. “That won’t do at all.”
He put his hand on the boy’s shoulder.
“No, son, you don’t need to earn your keep. Not with me. You can live with me and I’ll teach you what I know about life, and you can grow and learn and know what it’s like to be loved. No strings attached.”
Hristo smiled down at the boy, who after a moment of shock, returned it with a slight upturning of one corner of his mouth. It was the best he could do, given the circumstances, Hristo knew.
He vowed to himself that he, too, would do his best.
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