Fictional short story

      My name is Peter and I’m the leader of a group tasked with protecting a boy named Mark.  Mark was taken away from his father at a young age because his father was physically abusive.  The foster homes and halfway houses that followed didn’t prove much better.  The abusive foster fathers – with their beer bellies and belts – only stacked on more trauma, making it imperative that Mark is protected.  

 

      I have infantry training and was assigned to him shortly after he became a ward of the state.  Mark is capable of more than most people are aware of.  My team protects him from the dangers this world holds.  We must protect him; everything in our world depends on it. 

 

      “Dude, stop pacing,” Tony hisses from his chair in the corner of the room.

 

      I’m a nervous wreck, I’ve been pacing ever since Gladys went on patrol.  Only one member is allowed out at a time or else it would be chaos.  Gladys is the newest member of the protective detail and hasn’t learned to follow the rules yet.  I don’t know how Tony stays so calm. But I guess that’s why he was brought on, for his ability to remain detached.

 

      “She’s been out too long,” I bark.  “She’s going to do something to get us in trouble.”

 

      “Shit, she’ll get in line eventually,” Tony says as he leans back, crosses his ankles and runs his hand over the stubble on the top of his head. “I was a little wild when I first got here too.  Mark’s hungry, and I’m sure you’ll feel better once we’re fed too.”

 

      “But at what cost?” I ask.

     

      Gladys came on because of her cunning ability to obtain the necessities of life.  She can swindle just about anything out of anyone – or find some way to get it.

     

      “At any means necessary,” he says with a cocky grin.  “You should know better than anyone that she wouldn’t be here if Mark didn’t want and need her here.”

 

      He might be annoyingly arrogant and rub me the wrong way, but he’s right.  The group started with just me but has swelled to three protectors. As time went on, and new dangers manifested themselves, new team members were brought on who have a certain skill set. 

 

      “Is Mark asleep?” I ask.

 

      “Been asleep all afternoon,” Tony assures me.

 

      Mark had an especially tough day, we just got word that we’re going to have to move again, each move seems to be worse.  I sit down on the white sofa near Tony.  The only thing in the room left white.  Mark has created glorious pictures on the walls of our waiting room.  From wall to wall, floor to ceiling: pictures of dragons and the princes that slay them; meadows and wildflowers.  Even the other chairs were created in bright colors.  The white sofa was left white to make me happy.  A little calm in the middle of chaos.

 

      Suddenly, I feel the hunger pains in my gut subside.

 

      “See, Gladys gets the job done,” Tony says as a smirk spreads across his face.

 

      A few minutes later I feel the pulling feeling as I start to gain control.  A rush of energy enters my consciousness as I’m pulled to the surface.  Gladys rushes past me as we switch places.

 

      “I’m sorry,” she screams, with a manic look.

 

      I blink.  It’s almost pitch black except for a sliver of light flooding in through a crack in the closet door.  The coats have fallen around our crouching body.  A hard object is clutched in our hand.  We hold it up to the sliver of light to inspect it.  I see an old silver pocket watch in our hand.  The back is engraved with a border of delicate flowers surrounding the edge.  In the center of the flower border is an engraving of an elephant in the middle of a flowing wheat field.  “Shuckner,” Mark’s foster father’s last name, is engraved at the top of the watch near the chain.  This is Mark’s foster father’s watch that he got from his father.  The one he warned Mark never to touch.  We flip it over and I see the silver hands tick across the mother of pearl face. The glass is broken.  The crack is spider-webbed across the whole front.

 

      “What have you done, Gladys?” I whisper to myself.

 

      The closet door flies open to reveal Paul Shuckner, out of breath and red-faced.

 

      “Give me that watch, you little shit,” he yells as he snatches it from our hand.  “You broke it, you fucking broke it!  You’re getting the belt for this.”

 

      He pulls us from the closet by our hair.  I’m not giving up without a fight, this is what I was made for.  We swing our arms, knocking him square in the jaw.  He is knocked off-kilter and falls into the wall.  We have enough time to run for the front door. Almost there.  Just as our fingertips reach the knob we’re wrenched backward and pinned to the ground.  Paul’s knee digs into our back as he pulls the belt from around his sagging waistline.

 

      The energy drains from my consciousness as I pass Tony on the way back to our waiting room. He’s better at this part than I am.