I remember the night I left.

It wasn't a happy occasion and looking back, I think my parents would have objected greatly if my departure hadn't occured in the night. I hate for that to sound so typical, but I truthfully wouldn't have had a spare moment otherwise. For the past two- almost three years I found myself out of school because my help was needed at home. Mum was sick and she needed somebody to stay by her side to watch over her while dad was at work. I worked hard to make things easier on her. Bedridden, my mother tried to reassure me that she was alright and would get better soon. Mother told me that I didn't have to worry. Then later she would complain about the stabbing pain in her gut and ask for a bucket from time to time. The heaving would give her headaches and then she would become tired; I worried on occasion that she wouldn't wake up but she never really rested with that strange breathing pattern of hers. Dad did take her to the doctors'. He really did. The problem was that the expenses to treat the multiple things that were occuring within her body was much too expensive for us to handle. They didn't tell me this but I still heard them bickering at night before the days that they had to start sleeping in seperate beds since mum was too sick. Ulcers. She had ulcers and some weird condition that the doctor only discovered after mum's body rejected the medication we already paid for. That meant she had to go get surgery and mum was too scared to go in and do it. For a little while, she told us that she was fine and that she could just deal with it. Despite her efforts, she only got more sick, falling ill with the flu and pneumonia. Well, I guess the pneumonia was the flu's fault but I really think mum must have done something awful in a past life which she had to pay for now. That, or she just had bad luck. Back to the fact that I was leaving home. I thought maybe all that personal stuff would better explain why I had to leave, but I suppose it only makes me sound sort of selfish. My mom needed my help, yes, but at the time, after having been cooped up at home taking care of her for over two yearsafter putting up with not knowing the freedom of the playground or the field-after accepting my own pa's aggression from all the stress of working so hard to feed us and keep the house afloat.. I had to leave. At the time, I was convinced that if I left, that would alleviate some of the stress on dad. One less mouth to feed; one less person to wash and clothe and keep warm. With my "useless, lazy ass" out of the picture, maybe mum wouldn't have to think about any messes that she imagines i'd made. They wouldn't run out of food so quickly and maybe the bills wouldn't be so expensive. All of this hardship was my fault. If I was out of the picture, mum could get better and dad wouldn't have to yell at me every night anymore.

So I left. It was a tuesday night around 3:30am in May. I didn't have to think twice about leaving since the air was warm and really, living out there wouldn't be much harder than living in here. Unused and neglected, I sifted through the things in my closet and pulled up my old schoolbag as quietly as I could. It was small, but big enough to hold a couple rolled up sets of clothes, a hair brush and my rather modestly sized plush that I slept with. There was no way I was going to part with it; it was a cute baby-faced little goblin with only nubs for horns. My parents gave it to me that one time when I was really little and I started asking for a baby brother. In a way, that's sort of what this doll was to me. A little brother. By now, he looked a lot older than I did with the color of the fabric worn away, the buttons of his little plaid vest coming loose and his hair of yarn all tangled up in a mat. My parents told me his name was Ikol. Fisch and Ikol. I liked that. Things were as easy as walking out the front door in a good pair of shoes and a coat. The trick was being quiet. As I crept out of my bedroom and down the stairs to the main floor in the way I had learned so as not to make the steps creak, I took in all of my surroundings and wondered if I would ever see them again. For eleven years I lived here and had known no other home. At that time, I wasn't feeling any unease or regret about leaving. I just knew that this was what I wanted; this thing that i'd dreamt about for the past few months anyway. Keys were not important to me anymore so I left them behind. Who knows? If I brought one along, my parents might have even changed the locks. Maybe I really was a burden and maybe they really didn't want me. Once my shoes were on, I opened the door quietly and felt my soles meet the cool ground. There was a slight breeze and I zipped up my light coat since the early-morning air wasn't too horribly welcoming. Silently, the door was shut behind me and I stood there idly at the step for a long moment. I guess I was in mid-thought once my feet started moving beneath me. It almost felt like they started moving without command. I had looked back at what I formerly called home and I probably should have taken it as a sign; I probably should have known how big the world was out there. I strode down the street, the way I used to walk to school - the way that was most familiar to me. Baby steps, I thought. Out to the school, past the corner store, down the highway and out of my own residential area. By 5:00am I was in the city and the sun had begun to rise. The cool blue light bathing the nearly empty streets of the somewhat unfamiliar city made the whole situation seem strange and alien to me. I wondered what one did with themselves when they ran away from home. That was when my eager feet came to a halt. I looked back- almost to take in the however-many-miles I just walked and let the reality of it soak in. I could have turned back then and only my dad would've realized I was gone. Or

maybe not. He was always too busy to notice anything when he had to get ready for work at 7:00am. I took a seat on the curb and thought for a while. I was only interrupted by the occasional vehicle that drove by but not a single person walked the streets early enough to wonder why a young goblin might be idling there at such an hour. Probably up to no good, they would think. That's just the reputation we've got. It's probably not unjustified.

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Elsewhere, an hour later, another civillian was waking in the early sunlight of the city. This was not on his own accord, but rather by the whining anologous clock aside his bed that demanded his concious mind. A pair of golden brown eyes eased open, brows furrowed in remorse. Why does any store need to open this early anyway? This young man, or young naga, rather, literally rolled out of his bed and lay in a useless heap of flesh and scales on his bedroom floor. It was cold and that's what really woke him up. A thin arm reached up and groped around the nearby bedside table's surface until he found the alarm and ultimately, the snooze button. Silence filled the room for a moment before this reptillian male breathed in deeply, succumbing to a morning sigh. He was cold. He was always cold. The problem with being a snake from the torso-down was that the blood flowed cold. Being in a warm environment all the time would be ideal for him but then again, who wouldn't want that? For him, the cold joints were probably the worst part. He would complain about his wrists and hands on occasion but that was really the extent of it. One could only complain about so much. For quite some time, this character wore black gloves that reached just above his elbows in a futile attempt to warm himself but he decided that the teasing he received for it wasn't worth it. Another moment of silence. A stir. He rose up much like a noodle would in case a noodle would ever gain sentience. First an arc in the back and a great droop from the upper part of the body before standing erect. That didn't last for long, though. After an initial stretch, the naga surrendered to his usual slouch. He would fix his shortly cut mess of curls in the mirror and slip into his monotonous blue-grey uniform with a white apron and a name tag after he showered. A meal. An accidental, yet brief slip into dream world. It was off to work in his seemingly permanently floured apron by 6:45am.

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7:30am. I was wandering unknown streets by this point. If I was going to live in the city, I had to get to know the city first, right? I saw religious novelty shops that belonged to the different racial groups of this part of the world. There were barbers and clothing boutiques and grocery stores and pet shops of many varieties of exotic animals. Of course, I realized, I hadn't brought any money along. It's not like there was any to bring. It wouldn't be long before the complexity of the issue at hand became clear to me. How was I to feed myself? I picked up the odd neglected penny and dime but I was sure nothing could be bought with fourteen cents. I bit one side of my lip as I thought, the other half of it poking out through the gap between my two front teeth. And then my toe met with the relentlessly hard cement edge of the uneven sidewalk. AUGH. I bit my lip. This is stupid. Stupid sidewalk. For a while I walked. I watched as the city woke up and came to life. Vehicles rose from their dens like great growling beasts and the sparse numbers of people who actually walked places in the morning started heading out to live their lives. To work for the day and slave endlessly over a neverfinished task which they call a job. A job, I thought. That's the easiest way I could get money, probably. But how do you get a job? I'd never really thought about it. A shadow passed overhead. Above was a great garuda - a bird-man the kids called him. I think it's silly to call them that now since they don't always resemble men so closely. On two feet they stand, some with the strong, seemingly thin legs of an eagle, others with the legs of a human. The extent of which a garuda's head has been formed into a bird's varies and often plumage was an option for these folks. One thing they all had in common was that each Garuda always had a strong, magnificent pair of wings upon its back which granted it the gift of flight. A lot of people admire their ability to fly but many are warned that they should be respected and feared. I gawked at the avian form above me for a while, wondering what it would be like to fly. A cool gust blew through the streets, picking up dust and bits of whatever else may be laying on the ground. Squinting up at the sky, figuring that flying wouldn't be much different than the weightlessness of swimming on a windy day, I took note of the fact that the feathered creature in flight was circling downwards towards the earth. I decided it would be a good

time to start walking again. I wasn't interested in taking a chance in chatting with a garuda. Clutching the straps of my bag and hopping up to adjust the way they were settled on my shoulders, I marched on forwards, digging a heel into each step. The sound of huge beating wings came into earshot and I quickened my pace a little bit. I didn't have much reason to fear a garuda but the stories I was told when I was younger frightened me a bit. Besides, it was incredibly rare for such a creature to swoop down and steal somebody in a public place in broad daylight. Still, I felt tense about simply seeing one without any kind of comforting word to guide me onward. A swish came past me and I didn't look up from the sidewalk. I sucked on my lower lip which was hot from the blood that flowed into it after biting it. Other people were around- creatures of various origins. In this city, you mostly knew fauns or satyrs. Aside from them you could see the odd human, garuda or goblin like me! I've been taught by my mother that each race has a land which it belongs to. Some of the satyrs have told me of the nymphs that live outside the city and I hear rumors about the odd naga or donestre but they are dangerous and best to be kept a distance from. Stories of the merfolk have always enticed me but the life of the ocean sounds like a far-off fantasy. I suppose there must be a place somewhere that the garudas and harpies thrive and the fauns and satyrs would be a minority instead. In my efforts to avoid eye contact with the garuda which had touched down just up ahead, I walked on, accidentally moving into his space since I had been paying more attention to the space only a foot ahead of me. He clucked irritably as I brushed past him and snapped his attention down to me, ruffling his feathers. My chest and throat tightened and I quickened my pace without looking back. "Petty thing," he grumbled, "watch where you walk," The garuda walked in the other direction, taloned feet tapping out of earshot. The moment he was gone, I remembered to breathe. His advice would probably best be followed. My heart's pounding subsided and again I started observing my surroundings. The tall buildings shaded much of the street in the slanted rising sunlight. Where there were parking lots or shorter buildings, warmth would pervaid the air.

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His walk to work was often a little awkward and struck with fear; these things were apparent in many aspects of his life, however. He lived in one of

those little homes located upstairs from a shop located within the city and this made his walk to work substantially shorter. The shorter the better, he figured. The naga treaded silently apart from the subtle disturbance of gravel below his tail. Everyone was out to get him, he felt. Prying eyes always seemed to hold one opinion or another over him: It's so odd to see the likes of him around here! I wonder if he's dangerous? He seems suspicious. Inside the bakery was the thick, sweet scent of rising dough and pastry. It was warm and humid, an ideal space for him to dwell in during the day. This naga, unlike many others, loved to cook. Loved to bake. Of course, doing such activities day in and day out caused things to become a little dry at times but he was always pleased to hear the enthusiasm of customers out at the front of the shop. For the most part, he worked in the back of the store out of sight where he would cause the least trouble for business. He was lucky to have been given a job in this city at all! Much to his dismay though, the young male had to work at the till for the first time in a great number of months. This was due to a late or absent coworker who was a little unreliable at times. At the very least, he could stand close to the counter and tuck his tail to the side where it would be out of view. He hoped he could pass for a plain old human. Even though this was a small bakery, it couldn't be run by only two people. He prayed for somebody else to show up since the younger faun baking in the kitchen wasn't properly trained to work the till. Neither was he, but at least he was aquainted with it from the time that he started working at this location a few years ago. He was surprised that he could remember. A few drab hours passed while he stood at the front, arranging the fresh loaves and sweets. He helped about twelve people in the three hours that he manned the station. Only a couple of them really noticed anything strange about him and for that he was thankful.

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I was feeling a little nervous and lost at this point. I felt like I had seen more people in one adventure than i'd seen in my whole life. This place was a lot bigger than I had ever realized. I'd taken so many turns and slinked through so many back ways that I didn't even know which way I was walking in relation to home anymore. Maybe I had passed that clinic before. I think? It's possible that it was just a company that had multiple locations. I think that maybe I would have turned back if I knew the way. I feared the wrath of my father for my return home but the quiet recluse and familiarity of one or two people suddenly seemed oddly appealing to me.

Ahead I saw a park with an inviting opening of grass and trees. I jogged across the street and picked a spot that suited me best. The grass wasn't soft but it was a comfort after the maze of cement and city. I unzipped my jacket about an hour ago as things started heating up and now I held it draped over my arm. I tucked the garment under the back of my head and I laid on the grass looking up at the sky. The sun had risen high in the sky and I found that I had to squint to bear the brilliance of it. I guessed it was nearly lunch. My stomach growled and I wondered what I had gotten myself into- it had been around a whole nine hours since I ate last. Between all the trudging and the fright, I was surprised that I hadn't gotten hungry earlier! For now, I nibbled on a piece of grass as my eyes drowsily drooped shut. The sun was so warm. Again my stomach nagged at me and I put it upon myself to search for some source of food. On my feet again. I collected my bag and my coat and trotted to the side of the park which I hadn't yet seen until I reached a road. There's no point in backtracking at this point. Follow what the nose knows. Across the street I followed a sidewalk that brought me deeper into the city. I kept my eyes open for an easy route to success. All I needed was maybe a piece of fruit or a bun or even someone's leftover side dish that they had lost interest in at some point. Just as long as it didn't kill me or something. Now, as the last dying moments of the morning passed by, I smiled upon the friendlier, more lucid faces as there were a few sweet, round mother fauns guiding their toddlers towards whatever errands they had to run. I didn't see anybody my age but that was probably because they were all in school... There were more garudas in this city than I had anticipated. They were an obvious minority but I supposed that it still meant that they were well adapted and well integrated to our customs and mannerisms around here. Maybe they weren't as scary as they seemed in the stories. I walked into a convenience store to see if there was anything I could possibly buy for fourteen cents. Not really. I walked past a plethora of junkfood and some wrapped sandwiches in a cooler. Everything was at least a dollar or two.