Everyday is terrible. Those glances of pure hatred and disgust. They follow me everywhere. From day to night, all I hear are harsh comments and names from strangers. But what have I done wrong? What have I done to receive such treatment? Normally, when an individual experiences the treatment I’ve been given, they would retreat into themselves and shun their surroundings. But not me. I am Ying, the shadow that never wavers. The name that my parents gave to me is now forgotten, gone with their passing. The memories are too much to bear.

My main job is plainly, stealing. But it’s all for my little sister. She’s been bedridden ever since both of our parents passed away. We were left with nothing but the clothes on our backs and each other. At first we were confused like cubs gone astray from their mother in a snowstorm, but eventually learned that we had to quickly adapt. Over the years of feeling betrayed by the world, we both learned to never trust anybody nor any “good” thing that ever happened to us. Stealing was the only way to survive in an environment that we were not prepared for.

As our food supply slowly went down, the more and more sick my sister became. She went from dry coughing to coughing up blood, and I don’t know what to do. No doctors will take appointments without money, so we have no luck there. At this point, I keep on thinking about putting an end to her misery, but it’s hard. Not only is she my little sister, but she's also the only hope I have left in this world. I took a final glance at the place we like to call “home” before I went to sleep, and saw nothing but ruins and crushed dreams that will haunt my sleepless night. The scattered rocks and dry grass offer minimal cover from the elements. The cold night air nips at my exposed skin. I shiver and tug our only blanket up to my little sister’s chin. She coughs and snuggles closer. Why must we go through such misery?

The next day is a blaze of gold, as the sun breaks through the clouds and drives away the dreary weather. But nothing changes for us. As day breaks, I see a flock of puffy white sheep slowly making their way across the grassy pasture, towards our temporary “home”. A shepherd impatiently swipes at the lazy animals with a switch, his dog at his heels. A sign that we have to find a new “home”. I pull my aching body together, gather up my sister, blanket and all, and head down the slope. The town of Millena is small, with broken down houses, dusty roads, and shuttered windows. A cool breeze whispers down the main boulevard, a deserted stretch of dirt road. No one goes near here, not even the shepherd. I turn to look at him, his receding back in a haste to get away from the cursed ghost town.

So, this place is apparently haunted. The perfect place for us. No one is here. No one. Or, so I thought. As I set my foot through the rickety rusted main gate, I swear that I see swift figures pass by out of the corner of my eye, but it’s all just a glance. My sister grabs my hand, her pale fingers curling around mine, and I look down at her to see fear brimming in her eyes. I quickly comprehend that she wants to leave, but we can’t because there is nowhere else to go at this point. We are both mesmerized by how well this “ghost” town is holding up on its own, unless there are inhabitants that we don’t know about. I decide to stay up in case anything or anyone tried to harm my little sister.
Then a shadow fell across our path. I did a double take and leapt a short distance back, but a soft, scruffy voice reaches my ears, its tone kindly and thoughtful.
“Where are you off to, young man?”

I look up and see an old man leaning on a cane standing in front of me. Fear raced through my mind. What does he want with us? What is with his tone of voice? Why is he… Why is he being nice to us? The kindness is too much for me to bare, so my first instinct is to pick up my little sister and run. Run until my legs break off. Like I said before, I learned to never trust anything “nice” because everything has its price.

Upon picking up my sister and making a run for it, I don’t notice the rusty old pipe right by my foot. I trip. And instinctively flip over to my back to protect my sister. I brace for the impact, eyes closed.

Everyday is terrible. Those glances of pure hatred and disgust. They follow me everywhere. From day to night, all I hear are harsh comments and names from strangers. But what have I done wrong? What have I done to receive such treatment? Normally, when an individual experiences the treatment I’ve been given, they would retreat into themselves and shun their surroundings. But not me. I am Ying, the shadow that never wavers. The name that my parents gave to me is now forgotten, gone with their passing. The memories are too much to bear.

My main job is plainly, stealing. But it’s all for my little sister. She’s been bedridden ever since both of our parents passed away. We were left with nothing but the clothes on our backs and each other. At first we were confused like cubs gone astray from their mother in a snowstorm, but eventually learned that we had to quickly adapt. Over the years of feeling betrayed by the world, we both learned to never trust anybody nor any “good” thing that ever happened to us. Stealing was the only way to survive in an environment that we were not prepared for.

As our food supply slowly went down, the more and more sick my sister became. She went from dry coughing to coughing up blood, and I don’t know what to do. No doctors will take appointments without money, so we have no luck there. At this point, I keep on thinking about putting an end to her misery, but it’s hard. Not only is she my little sister, but she's also the only hope I have left in this world. I took a final glance at the place we like to call “home” before I went to sleep, and saw nothing but ruins and crushed dreams that will haunt my sleepless night. The scattered rocks and dry grass offer minimal cover from the elements. The cold night air nips at my exposed skin. I shiver and tug our only blanket up to my little sister’s chin. She coughs and snuggles closer. Why must we go through such misery?

The next day is a blaze of gold, as the sun breaks through the clouds and drives away the dreary weather. But nothing changes for us. As day breaks, I see a flock of puffy white sheep slowly making their way across the grassy pasture, towards our temporary “home”. A shepherd impatiently swipes at the lazy animals with a switch, his dog at his heels. A sign that we have to find a new “home”. I pull my aching body together, gather up my sister, blanket and all, and head down the slope. The town of Millena is small, with broken down houses, dusty roads, and shuttered windows. A cool breeze whispers down the main boulevard, a deserted stretch of dirt road. No one goes near here, not even the shepherd. I turn to look at him, his receding back in a haste to get away from the cursed ghost town.

So, this place is apparently haunted. The perfect place for us. No one is here. No one. Or, so I thought. As I set my foot through the rickety rusted main gate, I swear that I see swift figures pass by out of the corner of my eye, but it’s all just a glance. My sister grabs my hand, her pale fingers curling around mine, and I look down at her to see fear brimming in her eyes. I quickly comprehend that she wants to leave, but we can’t because there is nowhere else to go at this point. We are both mesmerized by how well this “ghost” town is holding up on its own, unless there are inhabitants that we don’t know about. I decide to stay up in case anything or anyone tried to harm my little sister.
Then a shadow fell across our path. I did a double take and leapt a short distance back, but a soft, scruffy voice reaches my ears, its tone kindly and thoughtful.

“Where are you off to, young man?”

I look up and see an old man leaning on a cane standing in front of me. Fear raced through my mind. What does he want with us? What is with his tone of voice? Why is he… Why is he being nice to us? The kindness is too much for me to bare, so my first instinct is to pick up my little sister and run. Run until my legs break off. Like I said before, I learned to never trust anything “nice” because everything has its price.

Upon picking up my sister and making a run for it, I don’t notice the rusty old pipe right by my foot. I trip. And instinctively flip over to my back to protect my sister. I brace for the impact, eyes closed.

My back hits the dirt in a cloud of dust. I gasp at the sharp pain that runs up my back for a split second. I open my eyes. And the old man was gone. Almost as if he vanished into the thin air. I picked up my sister and kept walking looking for the nearest and safest cabin available, but one step after another my body weakened, and then finally I reached my peak. My life flashed before me. Am i going to die...? I slept and slept. I even dreamt about waking up. Have I failed as a brother? ...I'm sorry... Hope. I couldn't do the one thing that I was born to do. Slowly and slowly I hear her voice faintly... She's calling my name, but for what? The locks on my eyelids got lifted, and I carefully opened my crusted eyes only to see a big smile on her glistening face. I will always be the shadow that never wavers even after death. Fin.