The young boy limped through the narrow gaps between the clustered houses. He was barefoot, his coat worn and weathered. It was the best one he had.
"Jack!" He called his eyes darting from side to side to spot the tiny pup. He had found him near the Black bottoms. The dog barely had any eyes and the young boy, his name was Tim, knew that Jack could not be left out alone. What if someone had put him down?
We would have talked about Tim further but this story unfortunately is not about him. He is one of many...nobody at all in the grand scheme of big men. He is neither too smart, nor too fast or strong. He hardly gets to eat everyday and his limbs are thin as sticks. So, he did not notice the figure behind him and he could do nothing as a large hand grabbed him around his shoulders and pressed a handerchief his his mouth. He struggled briefly and went limp. As the world went black the last thought in his head was his mother. She would be angry if he was late.
The sky had darkened. It was bound to rain any moment. Martha stepped out of her hut. Timmy was still nowhere to be seen. She had asked Jorkins next door. He hadn't seen Tim either.
"Timmy" she cried. The wind howled with her.