• It was hunger that awoke him. A deep, non-ignorable pain that shot deep within the stomach. His blue eyes shot open, but, groggy from the sleep he had slipped into, they fell to half mast. Dark shadows rimmed his eyes, and his limbs ached from being pulled from a somewhat peaceful sleep. Slipping out of the cot-nothing more then a few thin, moth eaten blankets on 2 wooden pallets obtained from the nearby docks-the boy padded away from his makeshift home.

    Only 16, the boy was homeless, cast out by adoptive parents who hated the sight of him. He didn't have a name, having been abandoned by his real parents when a baby, and the couple who raised him called him "boy"...if they thought to call him anything at all. They had been nice enough until he turned 16, when they rounded on him and sent him packing. It was alright with him. He never liked them anyways.

    Wandering the silent docks now, the boy thought of trying to fish for food with his newly made fishing rod. It wasn't much, though. Just an old line tied on a curtain rod found in the dumpster. But, thinking of it, he reminded himself he didn't have a hook, so there was no way the fish would catch. He came to the end of the pier and peered down into the depths of the night-black water. He saw no flash of silver, no dart of a fin; so he gave up. It was useless anyways. Even if he did see a fish, what would he do? Coax it to flop up onto the wood so he could kill it? He snorted.

    The boy went back to his hovel and crawled back onto his bed, lying awake staring at the tin ceiling. He was lucky. Most homeless didn't have what he had, but he had been resourseful. An old serated tin sheet had become a roof. A large garbage container became one wall, while an old moldy dresser-bargained for from an old new-comer who was just going to ditch it anyways- became his other wall. A tarp, 'abandoned'-the boy stole it when no one was looking, the fisherman who owned it made a right old fuss- blocked out the wind from the front side, while brick wall seperating the docks from the main town made his back.

    He sighed as he covered himself up with the blanket he used for warmth. He would have to see if he could nab some food from a shop or if the soup kitchen would give him anything even though he had nothing in return. With no job, prospects of a hot meal seemed dim. The teen's stomach rumbled, and he tightened his gut. Food would be his main goal for tomorrow, he thought.

    If he even lasted the night.