September 2025 Flash fiction "Newspaper Boy" by Halenna Castillo

     Snowflakes flutter down the busy streets of London, and bustling carriages rumble along the cobblestone streets. People scurry about in their long coats and wool skirts, hurrying back to their humble homes, eager to warm themselves from winter's bite. But past this busy scene of life, there stood a boy. There he was at the corner of the street, without any proper warmth to his attire, holding a newspaper, waving it around, and shouting as loud as his little frame allowed. The boy had been there since dawn, and as the bustling city began to be greeted by the winter eve, he started gathering his meager earnings. He reached for his cap on the ground, which was now wet from snow and the few newspapers that lay on his coat. While collecting his things, a newspaper flew along on the winter breeze. The boy widened his eyes and hurriedly held his cap and followed.

       As he scurried amongst the snowy streets, trying to pass the busy folk on them, he noticed how the newspaper flew along the wind. With a mind of its own, it flew past the snowy streets, gliding through left and right. The boy, as fast as he was, was no match for this wild newspaper. Pushing through the bitter cold on his face, he stretched his hand out, but it was just out of his reach. The newspaper then began to wrap and fold into a bird! The boy couldn't believe his eyes! He had slowed and stood in amazement, for he had never seen such a magical thing before!

          The boy quickly looked around to see if anyone else had seen this magical transformation. But everyone just kept on with their lives as if nothing had happened. Both amazed and stunned, he stood there confused, only to be brought when this newspaper bird flew right around his head. As if encouraged, without hesitation, the boy followed the newspaper bird down along the streets of London. For the first time in forever, the boy felt free, as joy and his laughter filled the bitterly cold with warmth. The newspaper bird led the boy to an alleyway whose entrance was like a portal into some dark, unknowable space.

      He stopped right before the entrance. The newspaper bird had gone right through into the dark unknowable. The boy stood there, his once widened smile and laughter now hesitant and quiet. He could hear the fluttering of the newspaper bird from within the darkness, yet he stood there. His little feet shifted along the snowy floor; it was cold, bitterly so. He could hear the busy streets behind him, the people as they scurried about, children with their mothers holding hands, the smell of warm, delicious meals being cooked. The boy didn’t have a proper warm home to return to, let alone a mother to hold his hand.

         He would return to a dim, cold place, grateful to even have a roof, and put his meager earnings in his special tin he kept hidden. The little boy wanted to go and return to this place, but within that unknowable darkness, he sensed a warmth he hadn't felt. A sense of peace and comfort as if all will be well. The newspaper bird emerged from the darkness and landed on the ground before him. Looking up at him as if to tell the boy all is okay. The boy took a deep breath and looked at the newspaper bird. He gave it a nod as if agreeing to enter into the dark unknown. With one brave step, the boy followed the newspaper bird into the dark, unknowable realm. As he entered, he was greeted with a warm comfort like no other. The coldness had left his body; all aches, scars, and hunger were gone. He felt safe, warm, and, most of all, at peace.

           The early dusk of the new day greeted the shopkeepers as they readied their shops. The carriages start about their early morning routes, and the mothers holding their baskets dearly as they hurried to the farmers' market to gather ingredients. The men would rush about to their jobs, muttering about numbers or chatting about a good pub down the way. However, this scene was different now; there at the corner of this bustling life scene, stood no one. The air wasn't filled with a child's shout of "Get your Newspapers here! 1 shilling a piece!" There wasn't a boy who would smile despite a lack of proper attire, in the unforgivable morning winter. No cap on the snowy floor with little to no earnings, and without a stack of newspapers waiting to be sold. There was no longer a boy; he would go unnoticed in this bustling winter scene in the London Streets. A distant memory, just a newspaper boy.