The Child Hero
It was the 22nd day of December, 1997, in London. A winter season of icicles hanging on rooftops. The street was silent, except for the hooting of owls.
John wrapped his arms around his torso for warmth as he took shelter in an abandoned wooden kiosk.
He has been moving between foster homes, starved and helpless.
When his father was alive, he enjoyed hunting antelopes with him, and sharing them among friends and families.
John now inhabit on St. Avignon Street, somewhere in the suburbs of London. Residents lodged grievances of their stolen treasure. The law enforcers have combed the neighbourhood for the intruder, to no avail.
But, the homeless John promised to help them catch the thief as he had seen an armed man’s shadow stealthily climbing chimneys occasionally.
While two officers sneered at him, the third listened.
He gave him a small phone and instructed him to call at the sighting of the burglar.
In the same winter, the nine-year-old John saw a shadow walking towards an apartment.
The dim, Gothic abode caused him to surmise the family slumbered without illumination.
Subsequently, the unknown individual proceeded inward, holding the family captive utilizing firearm.
Momentarily, John called the police station, a few kilometres from him. They zoomed to the scene.
“He is at that apartment.” He pointed in a direction.
From his estimate, the man spent fifteen minutes in the house gathering valuables in his bag. Then, they strategized and hid behind a gigantic ice until he came out. They pointed their barrels at him, threatening to shoot at erratic movements.
The armed robber’s eyes squinted, and his hands trembled, until the stolen golden bracelets in his bag dropped on the permafrost.
On the radio, the police officers praised his heroic feat and the county cared for him.