Red ribbons lined the sky, dancing along the horizon as the sun began to rise. I watched this everyday phenomenon from the exit of the hospital. I stared blankly and unblinkingly, as one would when they were bored or uninterested. However in my case it was a numb stare. I was completely numb as an aftermath of the spiralling emotions I experienced due to Gran Shelly's passing. I couldn't comprehend the fact that she was gone. She couldn't be gone. The thought of not being able to turn to Gran Shelly for company and comfort was difficult to imagine. I blinked my red, dry eyes as I finally concluded that what happened in the hospital was all a dream. I decided I'd go past Gran Shelly's house and collect that locket that seemed so important to her. Without work, I finally had the free time now.

Decidedly, I walked towards the nearest bus stop, stopped to ascertain I had change on me, then continued on my way. Gran Shelly's house wasn't too far from the hospital, only a few stops away. It was 7:30am by the time I reached the door of Gran Shelly's house. The door was made of a deep brown wood. The door handle was silver, adorned with flowered vine engravings on its base. The knocker was shaped into a dragon's head. The door was battered and scratched, especially around the handle and knocker. This was likely from years of knocking or accidentally scratching around the handle with her keys as she fumbled to find the right one. Or tried to stick it in the keyhole and missed. Those instances became more frequent as Gran Shelly got older. Her vision became worse and her hands became more unsteady.

Now I turned to the right, where pot plants of all different sizes and types adorned the floor, some propped up on upside-down buckets, crates or empty pot plants. Under each pedestal or lone vase or pot plant, was a hay-like mat with a different quote on it. Most of them were welcome mats and said something along the lines of, "welcome home", "call before you knock" or "welcome pawsome friends".
I walked straight over to one of the plants closest to the door- an old brown, white rimmed pot sat, filled only with thin light green grass. I carefully moved the pot aside to reveal a mat that read "the knocker is just for design, all are welcome". I smiled at the now bitter-sweet memory of Gran Shelly talking about people who left packages at her door without knocking, or about visitors who complained they were waiting at the door for a long time but there was no doorbell to ring- that "the knocker isn't just there for design! I expect people to use it!", but when a close friend or family used it she would quote the mat and say "the knocker is just for design, all are welcome, all are welcome, so don't bother yourselves with that old lump of rust, just let yourself in!".

I now lifted this old mat, covered in dead leaves and soil, to reveal the ground underneath, covered in a thin layer of dry soil. The only clean spot of the ground was shaped perfectly into a key, keeping the ground as clean as the day the house was built. I frowned in confusion and concern. "Where did you go..?" I whispered under my breath. Just then I heard a crash of glass breaking at the back of the house, causing me to jolt up from my crouching position. I strained my ears to hear further noise, and heard the distant but familiar voice of my half brother, Kael, yelling something about wasting a fortune. My eyelids lifted and my eyebrows knitted together as I considered what Kael could possibly be doing here at a time like this, and making such a racket. I cautiously walked closer to the door once again, instinctively feeling as though my presence shouldn't be known. I grasped the silver, rough door knob and twisted it slowly and hopefully, and to my relief it twisted fully, allowing the thick wooden door to open with a low groan as the hinges were let free again. The house was dimly lit, the interior which, much like the exterior, was usually familiar to me. It was basically unchanged since I first met Gran Shelly. However, it was now unrecognisable.

In utter shock and disgust I surveyed the room, looking for something familiar, but the only thing that remained unruined was the slightly peeling old yellow wallpaper, and the wooden frames that held up the house.

The yellow wallpaper, lined with a single row of small pink, blue, and yellow flowers, had greyed over the years Gran Shelly had lived here. However, now patches of the wallpaper were exposed to the eye and also to dirt and dust, which it previously had been protected from by furniture or picture frames. These patches shone bright yellow like the day they were made, revealing the rest of the wallpaper to be greyed when I previously hadn't noticed it.

Little random items scattered the wooden floor: buttons, small ornaments, beads, and long lost toys from when my brother and I were younger. I heard a screeching sound coming from the backyard, the sound was familiar, and I instantly knew it was Gran Shelly's favourite garden chair being dragged along the cement. I fast walked in the direction I knew her back door was, my face set in straight lines. When I reached where her thick wooden floral door should be, I was faced with a doorless door frame. "Kael!" I called, my face tensing with the effort to not twist in rage. I stepped outside to the messy garden, overgrown plants had taken over, soil, dirt and broken glass scattered the floor and men in black suits could be seen dragging large furniture past me and through the house, undoubtedly to a moving truck nearby. The screeching sound of furniture on the floor made my ears throb; I could clearly picture the black lines that would begin to appear where they had been dragged.

From among the men in suits, I spotted a mess of straight blonde hair that looked like it had been coated in layers of gel to try to suppress its rebellion. A mixture of the unusual amount of gel and the impressive health of the hair made it shine like greasy glass being held up to the light. The face that belonged to this mass of hair was sleek, pale skinned, with natural orange blush across his upper cheeks and nose. His eyes shone bright teal, his eyelashes and eyebrows so long and straight they might be getting as much gel as his hair. His skin was as smooth and flawless as his brown shirt, black suit and perfectly placed napkin in the chest pocket of his suit; which was held together by a single button, causing a V shape in the suit, matching perfectly with the shape of his face. And like his appearance, his voice was laced with elegance, authority, and arrogance.

"Well, well, if it isn't the street rat. You finally decided to meet me face to face after all this time. Are you finally done hiding?" Karl's face was pulled in a soft smirk, his eyebrows raising and coming together in a show of pity and mockery. "You..." I began, my mind so crowded with things I wanted to say, that I couldn't decide what to say first. "This is Gran Shelly's home! She just... and you already..." I managed to say, out of breath from disbelief; through gritted teeth.

"It's none of your business what I choose to do with my house. In fact, I could have you arrested for trespassing right now." My half brother said, his smirk audible in his voice, which was a slightly louder than normal whisper.
"This place, it isn't just yours for the taking, I was just as much her grandson as you!" I exclaimed, my hands finding their way into my pockets in an attempt to convince myself and those around me that I was calm and composed, despite my rising voice and knotted eyebrows.

"Oh please, that woman's greatest mistake of her life was taking in a street rat like you, but I won't let that mistake carry into her death. You may have leeched off of compassion and attention, but legally you are a stranger to her, so legally this house and everything in it is mine." Kael's voice began to pick up a hint of tension despite its whisper. My mind raced at his words, he was right, he was legally and biologically the only air Gran Shelly had, so all her belongings were now his. But despite this knowledge, the sight of the house I grew up in being torn to pieces just seemed wrong, no matter what the law had to say about it. Teeth clenching and fists balled inside my pockets, our eyes met with glares as we stared each other down, no one wanting to back down.  So finally I accepted that my feelings on the matter had no say in court, so my shoulders slumped and I forced my hands to relax in my pockets.

"Fine" I spat, breaking the silence, "but before she... she told me earlier that she had a locket that she wanted me to have, I need that, then I'll go". My words were met with an amused scoff, "do you have her words down in writing? Signed? If not, you can forget about that locket because I have no reason to believe lying scum like you". When his words were met with my breathless, wide eyed silence, he waved his hands to his men who, all except two who moved to each of Kael's sides; grabbed the last scattered items from around the yard that they could salvage; and they all began clearing out, walking into the house and likely out towards their vehicles.

As Kael began to follow suit my hand sprang out to grab his arm, "you can't do this! I can turn you into the police! You've ruined everything I can touch, my work, my house, all I have left of my family! They'll have you jailed for bribery and theft and-!" My furious yells were interrupted as one of the suited men firmly grabbed my own arm and snatched it off of Kael's. "With what evidence!" Kael interrupted, "you can't take me to court for something only you can bear witness to. It would be far easier for them to believe that a street rat like you simply lost your job and want to take advantage of a deceased old lady by stealing her inheritance." Kael's face twisted in disgust as his hand brushed over his sleeve where my hand had been, dusting it off like it had been touched by something filthy. Realising he was right, I stumbled a pace back, helpless and angry. Kael, taking this as a queue that he had just won the fight, nodded his head to the door and he and his men walking through the doorless door frame and through the ruined house, leaving me standing alone, my arms hanging limp beside me, staring wide eyed at the mess in front if me, in my Gran's old home.

🏴‍☠️

The stampede within my chest made it difficult for me to hear my own voice. I knew this was a dumb idea. However, after all I had been through, I knew dumb ideas were my only options left. My shoes were wet from the rain water that sat in puddles at my feet. The water collected in the potholes of the avenue, despite the rain having ended hours earlier. Ashen Avenue was known for its crime. Not the type of crimes like murder and kidnapping, but the type that little orphan boys commit: pick pocketing, scamming, mugging and other forms of theft. I looked along the avenue, bare autumn trees were scattered along the sides of the road, the grass overgrown. No one cared for the nature of Ashen Avenue, because everyone knew to avoid it. It was nothing more than a gang gathering area at this point. Everyone knew not to step foot into this strip of road without having received a pass to do so by its residents. Anyone who did so anyway knew they were inviting trouble. Despite the condition of the place, especially in comparison to the rest of the clean and tidy suburb, I found myself more relaxed than I should've been.

I ignored the sign that read 'Ashen Avenue', the word 'beware' graffitied over it. Remember, Kota, it has been five years, we're not kids anymore. I knew one thing couldn't have changed however; I knew the moment I passed the sign, unseen eyes were locked onto me. And things far more dangerous. All the houses were old and worn down, seemingly abandoned. No lights or sounds came from Ashen Avenue, besides the very whistle of the wind and creaking of the old trees. I knew this meant they had seen me coming. Stationed between the entrance of the avenue and the first house, was a single, small, beaten tin shed behind the trees. One of its doors was opened slightly, caught on the ground so it couldn't swing. From the road, I peered through the gap that was barely visible from that distance. If I had lived a better childhood I would've kept walking, and found myself collapsed on the road two steps ahead. But I knew that staring back at me was an Ashen lookout, and the barrel of his gun.

Making eye contact with this unseen lookout, I put my hands up. "I come in peace!" I called out. The only response was the flapping sound of the wind as it hit my raised hands, rustling my jacket sleeves. I felt like I had waited so long, my brown hairs may have started to grey. My senses were heightened, as was the speed of my breath.
Just as I was starting to feel foolish, I felt a cold pressure against the back of my head, and an equally cold voice whisper, "welcome to Ashen Avenue. Now get on your knees".

I complied, before having my hands pulled behind my back and tied together. I flinched as the ropes were knotted around my bony hands and wrists. As I had expected, seconds after the gun had touched my head, a dozen or so people sprung out from their hiding spots. The person in the shed always remained until their shift was over. They merely sounded the alarm of an intruder, then watched on with their finger on the trigger, in case I decided to act up.

"Alright, state your business before your brains start painting the road". In the dark I could see the people that approached me were all young boys and girls, around my age. The speaker however, looked several years younger. His hair was dyed blue and was held back by a black cloth headband. The hair dye appeared to have been applied with impatience. In some areas the colour was faded, and in others it was completely gone, revealing his natural blonde hair. The colours done nothing to hide its oily unwashed look.
"I want to speak with Rafa". I tried to feign confidence, but the fact that I didn't recognise the speaker made me question how much had changed in the last five years. A silent buzz of curiosity could be seen throughout the people in front of me. People exchanged glances and others stepped closer to me with slit eyes. I looked among the dark and concealed faces before me, hoping to recognise my old friend. A spark of cautious hope lit up inside me as one of the figures standing at the back stepped closer, peering at me through the dark. His preferred hand was tucked under the opening of his jacket.

"Kota?" The boy asked. His brown eyes were uncertain and cautious. His face was rough and covered in scars- more so than his comrades. He had shoulder height straight red hair that looked like it had been cut with a blunt knife. "Missed me?" I asked uncertainly. For almost a full minute, silence was my only response. All the while Rafa stared at me, seemingly assessing the situation. Finally he spoke, his uncertainty turning into suspicion. "Search him". His comrades that surrounded me obeyed, pulling my jacket off and searching my pockets. I patiently waited for them to realise I had nothing on me. The cold wind eliminated the warmth that had gathered under my jacket, until at least they returned it to me.

Much colder than I was previously, I fought back against the urge to shiver. I waited silently as Rafa's face finally relaxed, the corners of his lips were pricked up slightly, and his arms dropped to his sides. "Kota, what are you doing here?", he asked. My breathing relaxed in response to his new body language, however I was still stiff against the cold. "I know it's been a while, but I was hoping you could do an old friend a favour?". "Consider it done. Who is it?" Rafa said nonchalantly. "Wha-? What no!" I waved my hands quickly, letting my cold air into my sleeves. "I don't want anyone dead, Rafa". The gathering of people began t murder quietly, confused and suspicious faces intensifying. "You're telling me your asking us to help you with something legal? Forget it. Go ask that grandma of yours that you left u for", Rafa's face turned sour and he waved his hand at me, as if dismissing my existence. "Well... it isn't exactly legal, but if it goes well, no one needs to die". I have enough on my plate, I don't need the cops after me. Rafa smirked. "That's a bit better. Let's hear it".

🏴‍☠️

My teacup was almost empty and my story had been told. I had been lead to one of the houses in Adhen Avenue, and made comfortable with a hot tea, as we gathered in front of the heater, sneaking warmth. I explained what Kael had done: made me homeless, jobless, and kept Gran Shelly's locket which she had given me. I gained little sympathy from the faces in front of me, but I didn't expect to. "What a jerk!" One of the boys, Allambee, snorted. He had a mass of curly black hair, that was so voluminous I wondered how it stayed atop his head. "As if you don't want to kill him". The others gathered murmured agreement. The corners of my mouth twitched. At least they were frustrated. "I don't get it. Why aren't we killing him?", Liam, the blue haired boy from earlier asked. "How else will you get that necklace of yours back". I was relieved to discover that most of my old friends still resided in Ashen Avenue. Liam was a newer recruit. Another boy who had nowhere to go, and no way to make a living, and so decided to make a living through crime. It was an inviting idea after all. The Ashen's provided safety, company, purpose, work, and for lost boys like us, a higher chance of survival.

Rafa nodded at his comrades' statements. "They're right. Once this rich boy is dead, you will probably receive his wealth as inheritance. As far as you've told us, you're the closest he has to family. It's a reach but what's your other option?". I sighed. "I know it's a bad idea, but hear me out. We're going to steal it". The faces in front of me exchanged glances. "You do realise your fancy pants brother is top security fancy pants, right? Even we know that", Ava, a girl from the group stated. She had long straight green hair tied in a messy ponytail, and minty green eyes. I remembered, however, from five years ago, that her hair and eyes had both been brown. "I know, I know" I sighed. "But listen, Kael is rich for the popularity of his auction house. There will be a lot of people present when he tries to auction off the locket and Shelly's other possessions. We could blend right in!". I looked hopefully at the faces in front of me. Rafa sighed. "Fine. But you better have a phenomenal plan".

Interdimensional Pirates
-April Bluebird/@BlueWhiskers1
-20/Aug/2023- 14/July/2024 :')
-Chapter 4: Aftermath
-3437 words
-360 👁‍🗨, 35 🌟, 33 💭.