A TALE OF BROKEN THINGS

Thaddeus Carter, seven years old, stood knee-deep in the cold shallows of the river weaving his way closer to a flight of half-starved black swans. The river raced with such brute force he had to brace himself with every step he took to remain upright. Though he tried to remain calm as much as he could to avoid alerting the swans, he soon fell into the puddle for the tenth time. The resulting splash was just like it had been. He had stood upright and had continued his quest, as focused as before. "Hey!" Thaddeus jerked from the familiar sound. "Dont make me pull you out of that water again." His elder sister, Tonya, was sitting close-by under one of the few shades by the river with her friend Emily Anne Lucas. They sat with their backs to the river, snuggled together and giggled like a couple of high school lovers.  Thaddeus rushed as fast as his scrawny little legs could carry him, to stay in the waters was to incur the wrath of Tonya. He kn

Thaddeus bobbed down the street,  jabbing the air with quick powerful shots like a professional prizefighter inside a ring, somewhere in London,  battling for a medal. Shifting his weight onto the balls of his tiny feet, he swaggered his way down the alleyway like a tiny miniature rendition of Mohammed Ali. He had on a white tee shirt with a portrait of Ali in one of his best fighting stance sprawled across it. His favorite converse was worn out with ages, it looked like an antique on his feet. He always visualized himself on the screen someday with the world shouting in unison his name as he knocks out every opposition to his world heavyweight champion.  Uncaring about his almost worn clothing, which already scented like a part of him that was shed off, he came to a quick stop along one of the corners of the street. He had taken a wrong turn while beating up his fictitious opponent; he spotted two of the older boys who ganged around the alleyway bearing t

Everywhere Thaddeus looked was thick, black and acrid smoke, he saw the labyrinth-like ruins of the once-glorious streets in the black smog. Walking as fast as his legs could carry him through the unbearable heat that made his shirts almost instantly drenched in sweat, the fear of his last encounter at the alley still lingered in his head. The farther he walked, the more fearful he became of finding himself surrounded by the bigger boys. He turned right down the alley and came to a fork. After a quick prayer, he took his left. He blamed his terrible decision to follow this alley which was the shortest route home, yet the most dangerous and unpredictable on the evil boys. They were evil, no argument. He glanced to his side where he thought he'd heard a thump. He could see two figures racing towards him through the smoke. He heard something whiz by his head, punches flew by. Both figures fell in succession, the scene before him was an absolute mayhem. The guys had a lot to