What a strange place this is, how ever did I get here. What kind of heavenly bed do I find myself resting in? I see a strange low glow off in the corner of the room, perhaps a small candle, though why would one place it on the wall so low to the floor like that? I pondered to myself as I looked through squinted eyes, I was trying to adjust them for they were slightly blurry. I walked over to what looked like a window, then pulled back the curtains. To my dismay I saw these wagons without horses with candlelights on the front of them. They themselves where stirred with a wheel, only it was inside, not on the outside. These were unlike anything I had ever seen before. They were riding on black dirt, and the black roads were guided by many huge bright lit candles. Then as I was caught in a gaze looking outside to this strange new world, I heard footsteps coming towards the door to the bedroom. I quickly deck and hid behind the bed and keep very still. Then there was a large light that lit the entire room, I wanted to hid but there was no darkness in which to hide in. “Hey old dude? Are you there? I didn’t see you leave? Its okay Im not to hurt you man, I promise.” The young man called out to me. I decided his tone told me that he wouldn’t be of any harm to me, so I stood up. “Hello, my name is Franklin Booth the forth, I am pleased to meet you and seek only to find treaty upon in which we can remain peacefully. Do you expect this offer that I have given you?” I asked him, trying to sound calm and brave, only I wasn’t, I was as nervous as I ever have been and I fought for independence against the Redcoats. The young man smiled and was quiet, until he started to giggle. “Its totally alright dude, Im not gonna hurt you at all. Im all about the peace man, I brought you back from your lifecoma. How did you get that way anyways?” He asked with friendly expression to his voice. “I dont have time to get into that at this moment, though I can tell you a women scorn is surely nothing to reckon with.” “Ya, my granny used to tell me that, seriously dude, you look like you have time. Your old time clothes tell me you have nothing but time. You should have time years ago, and yet here you are, found buried in the ground in a wooden box. You may not wanna tell me know, but Im gonna have to ask you again later, maybe you wont mind tell’n me about it.” He said in a sincere voice, then gestures with his hand to follow him. I walked out of the room, down the hall, down some a then impressive stair case and walked into an even less impressive dining room. It had a couch with covered in a rug that was covered all over with stains. He came over to me after he grabbed something and lit it, took a puff and passed it to me. “Take it easy, you probably never had this before.” He told me as I put it to my lips and inhaled. “Oh this, we smoke this all the time.” I tell him. “Really? Wow, oh ya you didnt even cough man.” He laughed as he took the rolled marijuana from me. “What year is it exactly? and how do these candles not flicker?” I asked him, I assumed it had been sometime, though I had no idea. “Oh man, you are fucking old aren’t you!” He laughed and before I defend myself he began to speak again after he regained control over himself. “Listen man, brace yourself, oh man, did I tell you my name?” He asked with a questioning expression on his face. He clearly has taken too much of the cannabis medicine he’s totally forgotten what he was just about to tell me. “Hence forth with your information and stop delay for I am growing slightly impatient and feeling rather annoyed.” I hiss at him, it was not for lack of wanting to know the young mans name, I just yearned for my answer to my question. “Slow down holmes, I gotcha. The name is Blaze F.Y.I” He begins. “Very pleasured Im sure Blaze, now please the answer to my question if you will” I say trying to now control myself. “Did you just ask me out?” “Ask you out where?” “Because I had a girlfriend, no offense, your very nice and all.” “You seem very pleasant also, I hope she is a grand match for you. The year please Blaze, I nearly beg of you, the year please?” I say with sudden urgency and he must have felt it as he seemed to match me with a little more seriousness to his nature. “Okay, Im sorry, Im sorry man, the year is 2013, Im sure its been, well, awhile.” He says with gentle care, as I try to retain and then process what he has just told me. That would mean I had been in a 300 year old slumber. I took a seat on that appalling couch without notice and turned my glance into a blank stare as I tried to understand how all of this could have happened. Why did I dip myself into the forbidden, derailed from my wife; however how mean,cold and hurtful she was to me. Here I am, 300 years, awaken so many many years later to a world that has passed me by so much, I do not know it anymore. “Hey man, are you alright? I know, that hada been a blow for you. If theres anything you want man, just let me know. Im here for you bro.” He said in a caring voice. “Any tonics you may have that might help ease all this information?” I ask him, I thought perhaps some ale or such spirits might lift mine. “Well, you should try some of this, its just the stuff your asking for.” He passes a small liquid substance to me, a very tiny amount. “It’ll kick in soon, till then, lets go get something to eat.” “Excellent, I cannot wait to see what the food looks like.” “Hey now that sound like theres a little sarcassim to that tone mister, hey what was your name again? Frank?” He asked me, though i didnt know what he meant by what he said. I didnt know how he was implying I was “being” though I decided to be polite and pretend it didnt bother me either which way. “Its Franklin, not Frank and I mean no offense I assure you Mr.Blaze.” I “Well, Im just Blaze, drop the Mr. lets just go, first though, you gotta shower and change before “the tonic” kicks in.” he says with a laugh, and I feel a slight concern. “Shower?” ____
I had no idea it would come to this. It wasn’t at all what I had in mind when I decided to do this. I just wanted to make a little extra dough you know, I didnt think they would put him in jail. Now I need to make even more dough to get him out, or at the very least, a decent lawyer. Without my brother with me, I didn’t know how I was going to be able to do that exactly. The plan was to put him in a wheel chair, pan a little and make some sympathy money, nothing more, just a little innocent con. Innocent or not though, someone didn’t think so. So, okay, this one night, the night Johnny got pinched by the cops and he was panning in his chair as he had for the past few months. Someone called him on it, and it got hot real fast. Johnny got up from the chair in order to defend himself. One thing led to another and the man was on the ground lifeless, now lying in a hospital bed in a coma. Of course thats the speedy version, Ill give the laxed stoner version later. Now I had to find away to get us out of this mess, it was idea and I felt responsible for him being in there of course. I know this all makes us sound like a couple of common crooks, the truth is, we are. Its all we knew, our Mother was a great pick pocket and my Father could con the socks off anyone. He now serves in a prison far away, been there awhile and will be coming out in a matter of a few years. My Mother sadly died of broken heart, well thats what Johnny says, he was right though, my folks hated to be apart. She was so sad to be away from him, they really were very much in love. The modern Bonnie and Clyde my parents were, and I hate to admit that I was proud to be their daughter. So there you have it, a dead Mother and an incarcerated Father so all Johnny and I had left was each other. We were raised in a different kind of world, I didn’t even know how to go about living in it any other kind of way. Still I’m young, and I have a lot to learn, just shy of eighteen. My brother Johnny, just turned nineteen, putting him into adult prison. So needless to say, our little family of criminals was not doing so well. I was the only one out and it was up to me to pay for Johnny’s bail and get him out. I guess the first thing I would have to do is earn some income. I had dealt some pot here and there, and knew I could I get a front on a big bag and figured that was a good start. I went over to my buddy Skinny’s place and went right to business. When I got there and told him of what happened to my bro he told me of course he would help me in any way he could and went straight to weighing out. “Hey Roxie, what are you doing over there?” He asked as he went to his work. “Oh just cutting a hole into the inside of my pocket. You know, for storing things such as stolen bottles of booze or whatnot.” I explain as I take my knife to my coat, it was a trick my pick pocket mom taught me. I had stolen so many things things way, it was a great way to make a quick buck off a bottle that i didn’t have to pay for. “Your one tricky little girl Roxie.” Skinny says with a laugh. “Oh sugar, you have no idea. My Mother was the best in the biz, and she taught me everything she knew.” I explain as I begin to pack up. “Well, all the best to you Rox, I love your bro man, I hope you get him out sooner then later.” He says as he gives me a quick hug. “Ah thanks Skinny man, means a lot you helping out like this, Ill get it back to you, you know it man.” I say as I throw my backpack over my shoulder. “You got it babe, see you when I see you man.” He gives me a high five and I quickly leave and head towards downtown to unload the green and turn into the kind of green that could help get my brother out of jail. Cash, money, dough, bones or whatever you call it. To me it was the key to his freedom, but I would need more then just pot money to do this. I would need to take a page out of my Fathers book, literally, he wrote a book of all his favorite cons while in jail and sent them to me. He was funny like that, my Father was always known for his charming and funny personality. Its was made him a great con man, not a good one, a great one. He didn’t get caught because he messed up, he got caught because he trusted the wrong person. His best friend ran out on his during some pressed on heat from the cops, also turning in my Father to the cops at the same time. Thats what happens when you partner up with the wrong asshole, you end up getting fucked up yours. I ran to shelter that I had been staying over the past few cold months, Ontario can be very unforgiving in the winter and it was wise for a street kid to seek shelter or they would probably die out there in it. As soon as I got in, I started to talk to the other women who lived in the house and began to move the shit at a rather quick pace. Before I knew it I was half way done, all the money I made went straight into my safety box that was equipped with a lock, the house provided these to avoid house fights among the girls. It helped, but thats about it. After I took a shower it was dinner time and after that I took to the streets. It was pick pocket time, it was Friday night and the streets of Toronto would be packed, even in this way below zero weather. Perfect conditions for pick pocketing, layers of clothes and busy shoulder to shoulder foot traffic. Sometimes people who find out what I do for a living ask me how I feel about doing it. Of course I feel bad, I steel a wallet, I take the cash out, and then pay someone different to turn it into the cop shop to returned. I.D and all credit cards intact, its acts such as though that help to let me sleep a little bit at night; otherwise, I feel awful to be honest though I would never tell anyone that, I would never want them to mistake my guilt for weakness. On the streets, thats exactly how someone would take it. I bundled up as much as I could with still have the freedom to run, just in case I needed to make a fast get away. As I walked through the streets in between the rows for people, bumping into them, my tiny hand slithers into their jackets and bags. I brisk ally walk with my hands in my own pockets and I think to myself, this is not the only way to live and if there is a better way to live it then thats the way I want to. This was no life, it just happened to be my life, for now that is.
A.J Hawkins was born and raised on the small Canadian island known as Vancouver Island, a resident to Victoria BC for over 30 years, A.J is a writer of poetry, short stories and is currently working on his first novel series. As a musician he also has a love for covering the live music culture on the island, interviewing various bands and asking the questions that others don’t ask. He also have a interest in the street culture, especially the one in his very own city. His passion for helping the homeward bound and getting to them on personal levels, reflects in some of his works. He enjoys writing about all the different ways of life, and considers himself a student to be taught by others and by how they live theirs. This shows in the way he creates his characters.