the boy with black hair

The first thing the boy could remember was being empty. Hungry. Cold. Directionless. Running from one dark alleyway to the next, the young boy with the black hair would ravenously devour anything that he could get his hands on. Practically a beast. No thoughts swam about his head aside from the urge to fill himself with food and to find warmth. He would spend his days hiding in the shadows of the stone buildings within the town, staying out of sight, as the townspeople always had a boot or a cane ready to strike him on sight.

One could sometimes catch whispers about the strange street urchin from the denizens of the town; "That boy is cursed, he has the angel's look about em'. Best to keep your distance else you'll bring down death to you and your family...", "He looks so eerie, like a specter or a doll! I swear that he isn't human, he never shows any emotions", "When I shoo him away from the store, though I can't see his eyes, I know he's staring at me. It's like he stares straight into your soul!", "I wish he would just do us all a favor and die before he brings some great calamity on us". They were right. This small nameless boy with pale skin, raven black hair, and sapphire blue eyes will eventually kill them all. But at this time, he was still but a child.

Darting down dirt alleyways away from the crowds and the town guards, the nameless boy with black hair ran with an armful of fresh warm bread. His breath creating white clouds as it rasped out of his lungs. Shouting and cursing could be heard behind him. The boy sprinted away from the baker who was slowly being left behind in the busy streets unable to track his quarry. The pitter patter of the boy's bare feet on the grime and dirt slowed as he frantically looked for anyone who meant him harm. After ducking behind a crate and calming his breathing, he finally looked at his prize. A fresh loaf of bread taken from the bakers but seconds before. The boy nervously eyed the street he had just arrived from, seeing no pursuit, he greedily began scarfing down as much of it as he could. Completely engrossed in the filling of his stomach, the young boy tuned out the noise of busy streets and foot traffic.

The boy was jolted out of his bliss as a cane struck the right side of his head. "You little bugger, think you could escape from me?", the baker angrily struck the boy in front of him. After releasing his anger over the course of a few minutes, the baker grew bored and left grumbling. The boy laying on the dirt of the alleyway stared up at the sky, he could feel bruises forming on his skin. Those who passed by swore that he was dead, an unfortunate dreg of society. But he would not die. The strange boy finally moved.

Looking up and down the street weary of possible aggressors, the boy began limping away. Passing through shadows like a ghost, the boy began to wander. He watched the city guards flog a man whom the king had deemed guilty. The man's wife and daughter bawling but powerless to stop them. The boy slinked past a dwarven tradesman with thick powdery black hair who kept a keen eye on the passing waif. He glided past the back door of the tavern as a battered drunken half-orc was thrown out cursing and stumbling as he collapsed on the dirt. The boy crept about, not wishing to raise the ire of two heavily armed dragonborn as they stood guard at a back door of a shady establishment. He was used to staying out of sight. He was used to being an outcast.

After walking and avoiding others for half of the day, the boy found himself at the edge of a crowd. He could here happy shouts and gleeful laughter. His curiosity got the better of him and he made his way around to another alley to get a better look. "Ladies and Gentlemen! I, the great Lewellyn, have journeyed far and wide to bring you great tales from abroad!", the charismatic half-elf shouted with a melodious voice and began his performance. The face of the young boy did not flinch away from the usual deadpan stare for even a moment.

He watched the bard perform in the street, singing and dancing to the merriment of those around him. The storyteller was quite good and got a rise with all kinds of jokes, poking fun at the king and journeymen alike. He brought smiles to the faces of many, winking to quite a few blushing maidens. Lewellyn's performance was spectacular. Bright flashes of light twinkled around his hands as he conjured magic blasts of fire and ice to emphasize his stories. Many had never heard the epic tales that Lewellyn powerfully told. Though the boy in the alley's face was still deadpan, his heart raced as he listened to the tales about heroes and adventure.

After the performance and all of the many spectators had left, Lewellyn, a handsome half-elven man, sat and counted what he made with his most recent show. Placing all 52 copper and 6 silver in his empty coin pouch, he leaned back and sighed. It was enough for a place to stay and food to eat for a few nights. He grinned at the thought of a particular woman who had whispered in his ear after his show, maybe he wouldn't have to pay for a place to stay the night... Lewellyn collected his things as the sun began disappearing behind the horizon and began walking down an alley.

"By the gods!", Lewellyn jumped and drew his rapier as he turned a corner only to come face to face with the black haired boy. In the twilight, the boy appeared to be like a weight, an undead creature creeping in the shadows. "F*@#! You scared me, boy! What are you doing back here? Go home to your mother!", Shaking his head Lewellyn calmed himself as he sheathed his weapon. The boy with black hair didn't move an inch as he stared up at the half-elf. Lewellyn crouched and put his hand on the boy's shoulder shaking him thinking he didn't hear, "Oi, are you even listening to me kid?".

As he got a better look at the small child, Lewellyn was taken aback. The boy was gaunt and his skin was shockingly pale, he seemed to be little more than a skeleton. Raven black hair covered his eyes hiding them from view. The child stood there expressionless as Lewellyn parted his hair to look at his face. Sapphire eyes within a face that could bewitch the world stared at the bard unblinking. Lewellyn was reminded of an old superstition; "Those blessed by death are graced with the unnatural beauty. Raven black hair, eyes that glitter like jewels, and perfect white skin. Those are the attributes that the black angel finds most pleasing."

"I'm sorry kid. You probably don't have a mother do you?", a child blessed by death would immediately be ostracised by the community. If the parents of the child would not give them up they too would be banished. The world was a cruel place. The living fear death more than anything else and are willing to sacrifice even a child for their own safety.

"You are kind of like me, little one. I was also despised by everyone and forced to the edges of the world too", Lewellyn's skin and eyes shimmered revealing lavender eyes and skin tinged with purple, betraying a dark elven heritage. Lewellyn remembered the days that he and his mother suffered because of the evils of his unwanted heritage. Fury hidden by a smiling mask churned within the bard. Staring into this boy's eyes he saw himself twenty years ago. Clenching his teeth he stood up, snapping his fingers his magical disguise once again hid his appearance.

"Sadly, I can not help you, but do not fret. You are blessed by death, you will survive". Lewellyn patted the kids' head, flicked him a silver coin and walked away. Memories of his childhood swam in Lewellyn's mind. He looked up to see the silent stare of an owl perched on the rough of the building next to them, "The boy has nothing to worry about. She already is watching him". Lewellyn grinned forcing away bad memories with his plans for the night. The boy watched the bard walk away into the night and then stared down at the silver coin he was given. A whole silver coin could buy a lot of bread.

The boy began moving again as the world descended into the night. Continuing his never-ending fight for survival. Scurrying through the streets the young boy clutched his coin with all his might in fear of dropping it.