Chapter Text
Edgar’s hands shook from the cold as he scrubbed down the dark wooden table with a wet washcloth. He lifted the washcloth and shoved it into a bucket of water and held it there for a moment, allowing it to soak. The water attacked his cracked hands, causing Edgar pain, but he had grown used to it at this point.
The bar owner hummed a jolly tune that contradicted his personality. The owner was far from jolly and quite a cruel boss, but Edgar couldn't complain, after all, he gave Edgar a job. Sure, the hours were long and he wasn't paid, but the cheap room above the bar he was allowed to inhabit was enough. It’s not like he had anywhere to turn after his mother passed from her illness, so, in Edgar's eyes, the bar owner was his savior.
After holding the washcloth under water for a moment, he lifted it out of the bucket and began wringing it out. He held it over the bucket another moment longer, studying the sounds of the water dripping down into the wooden bucket. Drip….. Drip….. Drip…. It was so quiet and peaceful, but, if you heard it in the dark, that feeling of peacefulness fades to become eerie. Truly interesting how something could change from comforting to chilling.
“Ay, Elizabeth's son,” the owner hollered, stepping out from behind the bar.
“Ah, yes, sorry, is there something required of me.” Edgar turned to watch the small man make his way over.
The man was far shorter than Edgar, but the man made up for that with his muscles. Edgar was tall, but extremely skinny, “skin and bones” his mother would say.
“Dammit kid, stop drifting off so often! You get no work done,” the owner exclaimed. “You call these tables clean?? You must be out of your mind. Turn in for the night, you aren't helping anyways.”
The owner slapped Edgar on the back, causing Edgar to flinch.
“Yes sir…” Edgar muttered as he dropped the rag back into the bucket, allowing it to sink to the bottom.
Edgar wasted no time moving past his boss and up the stairs that were located just beside the bar. His boots, which were close to falling apart, made the dark, wooden stairs creak with each step. He cursed those steps every night, it made it harder for him to sneak out.
Once he reached the top step, his boot caught on the lip of the stair, causing him to trip forward, falling onto the floor with a loud THUD.
“Delightful…” Edgar muttered as he got up.
As he brushed off his clothes, his eyes caught a glimpse of movement. He froze and slowly turned to see what was moving in the shadows. What he saw was a lanky man, or rather boy with how young he looked. The boy he was looking at was himself, his worn clothing and dull blue eyes peeking out from his dark brown hair was unmistakable. His lifeless eyes that the mirror reflected gave him chills, and he knew from experience that he wasn’t the only one who thought that way. He often kept his eyes as hidden as possible, using his untamed, thick hair to accomplish his goal. He had grown it out down to his shoulder for the purpose of using it as a way to cover his face if needed. Although it did affect his vision, he thought the sacrifice was worth it so he wouldn’t scare anyone with his numb gaze.
Edgar looked away from the mirror, not being able to stand his reflection for much longer.
“Why does the boss even have this mirror here?” As expected, Edgar’s quiet question went unanswered.
After a moment of thought, Edgar’s body began moving to his room. As he got closer, his mind wandered back to his appearance. He softly touched his face as he continued to walk before quickly taking his hand away, unpleased with how dirty it felt. Edgar sighed and pushed the door open to his room. It was small, barely had room to contain a bed and a desk, but he made do. On his desk stood a candle that has seen many late nights. Walking over to the candle, he grabbed a matchbox which sat just beside it. Edgar lit the match and watched it glow for a moment, enjoying its fiery dance. He moved the match to the candle, lighting the wick. Once the match had served its purpose, he blew it out, ending its dance.
The new light from the candle revealed the papers that littered his desk, all of them having pretty, black handwriting that belonged to none other than Edgar. Due to his poor family situation, he was never allowed to attend school. He learned everything he could from books that he would randomly find around the bar. He didn't quite know who kept leaving all these books, but he didn't care much about finding them.
Edgar sat at his desk, reviewing what he had written the previous night. He frowned as he read through it. The wording could be better, the paragraphs longer, and the pacing faster. With a sigh, Edgar let his head fall onto the paper below him. No matter how many times he rewrote the same story, the same page, it never seemed good enough. Nothing he did seemed good enough.
Slowly raising his head, Edgar’s eyes caught one of the books on his desk, his favorite, in fact. He reached out for the book and leaded back in his chair, ignoring the splintered wood that poked his back. As if the book would crumble in his hands with one wrong move, Edgar opened the book slowly and carefully. This was the exact book he would read while he sat next to his sick mother. It was the only thing there for him on those cold nights, the only comfort he had. The book allowed him to think his dream of becoming an author was possible. The author was only twenty when publishing his book, and grew up in a poor living situation, just like Edgar.
As his eyes focused on the small biography presented before the main story, he smiled at the name, Fyodor Dostoyevsky, his inspiration to continue on. Every word seemed to hold a strong emotion. Every paragraph did its work crafting the beautiful story Fyodor had envisioned.
Edgar heard something hit his window. He jumped slightly and looked towards it. The day had ended, allowing night to take its place.
“Oh shoot, I’m late!” Edgar closed the book and set it down neatly before getting out of his chair.
Once he was sure his boss was fast asleep, Edgar slowly climbed downstairs. This was the moment that produced the most anxiety for Edgar daily. The stairs still creaked, but if Edgar went slowly enough, it wasn't that noticeable. After what felt like hours of walking down the stairs, carefully so as to not wake his boss, Edgar reached the bottom and swiftly got behind the bar.
Edgar got onto his knees and felt around for the handle to the trapdoor that led down to the storage room. Within less than a minute, he felt the metal ring. He pulled it, opening the trapdoor. He sat there for a moment, listening for any sign that he awoke his boss. The cold air from the storage attacked his already cold hands as he listened.
When he had finally concluded that the bar owner must still be asleep, he slowly climbed down the ladder, delving into the darkness. Cold air attacked everything that was foolishly left uncovered, causing Edgar to shiver. His feet hit the floor with a thump. He awkwardly searched for the lantern located somewhere near the ladder, his hands stretching out in front of him.
After a long moment of searching, he found the lantern and pulled out a match from his pocket. Lighting the match, he used it to light the candle within the lantern, illuminating the boxes of food and alcohol. His eyes took a second to adjust to the new source of light. Soon after adjusting to the orange glow, he walked across the cold, grey stones that formed the floor towards a wooden shelf that served to store the food. He reached out to grab a small piece of cheese before quickly turning back towards the ladder. Without wasting a second, for fear of being caught by his boss, Edgar turned off the lantern and climbed up the ladder.
The silence of the cold night was disturbed for a moment by the creaky back door of the bar. Edgar slipped through the small opening of the door, entering the cluttered alley. Paper crumpled under Edgar's feet, and he paid close attention as to not step on the broken bottles. The alley was far from being described as sanitary, but it was ordinary to Edgar. He couldn't imagine clean streets that were absent of those without homes which some of the customers would describe. How could that possibly exist?
Cheese in hand, Edgar looked around the alley and clicked his tongue.
“Buddy, I'm here again. I apologize for taking so long.”
Rustling came from a large stack of papers. The papers suddenly went flying in all directions as a raccoon erupted from the now destroyed stack of paper.
Edgar flinched at the raccoon’s grand appearance. The raccoon pranced over to Edgar and sat right in front of him, waiting for his daily treat. Edgar bent down and held out the cheese, allowing the raccoon to take it. Without a second of hesitation, the raccoon stuffed the cheese into its mouth.
“Slow down, Karl! I don't want you to choke.” Edgar sighed and gave Karl a soft pat on the head.
While Karl ate, Edgar read a few of the papers found all over the ground of the alley. One of the papers was a wanted poster for a man around Edgar's age, maybe two years younger? His hair was short and brown. He looked like he had seen many things and lost the ability to show much emotion. The next paper Edgar looked at was an ad for a detective business. “Greatest Detective in the World,” it read. He doubted such a person existed, not in this place.
Karl jumped into Edgar's arms and climbed up to his shoulder, making sounds of happy clicking. Edgar chuckled and stood up. During the long two years he had worked at the bar, Karl has been the only one to give him pleasant company. Edgar tried to find enjoyment in spending time with his boss, but that proved to be a difficult task. He was the only other person who worked at the bar, so he had no coworkers to speak of. His boss had made it very clear not to interact with the customers unless they interacted with him first, and even then, he was meant to end the conversation quickly. He said Edgar would embarrass himself and the bar. Edgar wasn't too bothered by that, he understood that he was extremely awkward. The customers were too rowdy anyways.
Thoughts of his rather lonely situation were intruded upon by a loud CAW, causing Edgar to jump and take a step back. His foot landed on a glass bottle, making it shatter as Edgar began to fall backwards. His ability to breathe abandoned him as he fell, and time slowed, yet he still didn’t have the time to do anything. His back hit the ground, his head following shortly after. A loud THUD and the sound of glasses breaking added to Edgar's dazed understanding of what had transpired. Karl produced a panicked chitter as he ran over and poked Egdar’s face with his tiny hands. Karl’s poking made Edgar slightly left his dazed state, enough to realize something warm soaking into his dark hair. Edgar slowly sat up and reached his hand to the back of his head. When he retracted his hand to look at it, he froze. The crimson liquid coated his shaking hand.
Another CAW echoed through the alley, drawing Edgar's attention upwards. His breath caught as he saw ten crows looking down upon him from a clothing line. The crows’ milky white eyes drilled into his soul, making his panic start to rise. The crows continued their haunted chant, getting louder and louder. Edgar started to slowly crawl back, only remembering the sound of breaking glass from before when it was too late. He felt a sharp pain in his hand. Edgar screamed at the pain and quickly looked over to see a piece of glass sticking through his skin. A pain consumed his chest and squeezed his lungs. Edgar fell back to the ground as tears began to form in his eyes.
“I don’t…” Edgar didn’t feel like finishing his sentence, he was growing too weak.
Karl poked Edgar aggressively and chittered in a panic. Edgar’s world grew dark as he slowly lost connection with the conscious world. His mind raced with memories of his life, searching for a moment he was proud of, a moment where he had accomplished something great, but he came up blank. He was simply going to be a poor boy who died in an alley, a boy who was never given the chance to become someone.
As the world went dark, the last thing he heard was a door opening.