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Special Anniversary Story #1 Come to Dust - Alister

Simon--

I begin this journal because you inspired me to write my thoughts and feelings onto paper. It cost me a bit--a good journal is not cheap--but I write these passages for you, inspired by you, to help you better understand me as a man. I will give this journal to you when you are older and it is my hope that you will continue to fill the pages with your own life stories and adventures.

I want to start this journal with an eventful moment in my life, the day I met you and took you in as my apprentice sweeper.

The day was cold and dark, the kind of day that bites at your fingers and your ears, where you keep a scarf pulled up over your nose lest it crack in the dry air. No one with a lick of sense about them would have willingly been out in this weather. I guess I didn't have a lick of sense about me.

I walked up to the large church and exhaled at the large doorway. This was a big moment for me. I had second and third guesses but in the end I needed to trust myself and that I would be true to the boys in all ways. I pushed the door open and was greeted with chaos.

In the back of the hall I saw a small gaggle of children and two nuns trying to pry some cubs apart from one another. There were cheers and screams, screaming and laughter. Finally the nuns managed to pry three cubs apart from one another, one seemingly holding a rusty knife in his left hand.

A wolf cub, so small that I wondered just how old he was, was standing there with blood dripping from his eyeteeth. The other cub, a squirming black fox lad who managed to wrench himself away, gave quite the look to the nun who had held him. I took off my hat and held it between my gloved hands, stepping over toward the crowd and clearing my throat to draw the attention of the sisters.

Watching the heads turn toward me was slightly amusing. The nuns didn't register me for a moment before they snapped to it.

"Mr. McCaffrey!" one of them proclaimed before she began to fuss the boys, shoving the one with a knife toward the back with a rather plump looking nun holding his ear. "My apologies, we were having a bit of a situation."

I shook my head and held up a hand. "Nothing to apologise for, Sister. I came early and so the burden is on me."

"Humility is an admirable trait, sir, but do not excuse poor behaviour in the guise of proprietary."

I saw a couple of nuns pick up another cub--the third one in the trio who were pried apart a moment before--from the floor. He was a large lad, some kind of cat by the looks of things and older than the rest. He was passed out cold and taken to the back room. There was clearly a story here but I decided not to pry. I smiled nonetheless and looked at the sister.

I said, "I wanted to get home before the blizzard hit too hard for us to walk down the street, I hope that is not a problem?"

"Not a problem, not a problem," the old nun muttered to herself as she shuffled a few boys forward. The bloody-teeth'd wolf and the grumpy-looking black fox kid were in the middle, flanked by another, much larger wolf, a weasel, and a raccoon. "These are the boys who will be going with you, Alister."

The nun looked down at the boys and stepped in front of them. None looked terribly happy. The small wolf even looked a little sad. I couldn't imagine he enjoyed his time here in the orphanage, but then it was probably the only home he knew.

"Now boys," the sister said, "the paperwork has been done and you have been--"

"Sold," the black fox jumped in when the nun fumbled for the right word.

"Simon!" The nun hissed and pinched his ear.

The boy squirmed and winced, "It's the truth, ain't it?!"

I watched the nun twist his ear in the way only old women could. The boy, Simon, was standing on his toes and trying to wrench his ear out of her bony old fingers. Finally she let go of it, and he grumbled, rubbing his ear.

Stepping over toward the boys, I casually asked them a few questions to make sure they didn't have any problems with their lungs, since the tasks that I was going to ask them to do would be impossible without the physical wherewithal to do so. After I got a satisfactory response from each of them, I nodded.

"It is true that you were sold," I then said calmly to the boys, who looked surprised. "You have become my responsibility and I bought your papers from the state. It means that I'm to take care of you now in exchange for work and training."

"See? Sold." The fox ducked his head before his ear could be grabbed again.

I smiled and put my hand on the fox boy's shoulder, squeezing it gently. "I understand you're scared about changing places, and I will make it as easy as I can for you." Simon was about to open his muzzle when I quickly reached up and grabbed him by his ear, pinching but without the firmness the nun exhibited. "But in the lord's house you will show the sisters respect and kindness."

I did not scold with malice. I wasn't angry even, but I had to make him know I was the one in charge.

"Now let's go home, boys. I want to hear about you when we get there."

I walked out still leading Simon by his ear. I knew you were going to be a handful already. Little did I know how much of an understatement that was.

---

I wish I could say that getting the boys ready for such a career is easy, but it isn't. The truth of it is that I was nervous to get to know any of them--the young ones had a high chance of dying within a year--but I had promised myself that I would not hold myself back from them. I was their caretaker now.

For the first couple of days I had the new boys shadow some of the older ones around my territory and asked them questions at the end of each day to make sure they understood how things were done. I found that the small wolf, a boy named Avery, was scared to go down the chimney but he did it anyway every time. He was small but an excellent climber. He did need help getting down from roofs, however.

Everyone was settling into a new kind of routine of working and coming home to my establishment, where we talked about the errors made and how to improve them. I was kind but firm with them; I didn't coddle them--these boys would eat me alive if I did that--but I made sure not to make them afraid to ask questions.

The only real issue I was facing was that small black fox, Simon. I had decided I would train him personally, since the older boy he had been paired with, Billy, hadn't been working out.

It was another cold day as we walked down the streets of London. I pushed my cart and Simon followed slightly behind me to my left. The boy was bundled up in a scarf meant for a man and a jacket much too large for him. The funniest thing about his outfit was his flat cap--it was also too big and was only above his eyes due to his ears keeping it barely upright. Like all things he would grow into it if he lived long enough.

"Why can't I go with Billy today?" the boy complained, hands tucked into his sleeves and his muzzle mostly wrapped in warm fabric.

"Because yesterday, when you were supposed to be watching Billy work, you slipped away and started gambling for apples."

"I was hungry."

"You were working!"

"But...I was still hungry."

I sighed and took my hat off the top of my head, wiping my brow with a small piece of fabric from my pocket and then putting both back where they had been. "You're here to work and learn. If you don't pay attention--"

"I won't make ye money, I know, I know."

"No, boy, you could die." I stopped and looked down at him. "You think I've been telling you a tale about how dangerous this job is?"

"It can't be...I mean...adults always make things worse than they are," Simon said with an air of defiance in him. The boy didn't like showing he was weak by the looks of things. "You made it out, dinnit ye?"

"Aye, I did," I put a hand on his shoulder, "but almost all me friends are dead, Simon. You have to be smart or you can die."

"I'm plenty smart!"

"Are you? Then why did you worry poor Billy by going off to gamble? I know you were hungry, but you were supposed to watch and learn and help him. He got stuck a couple months ago, you know? He ain't even a big lad yet, but that's how bad some of the flumes are--the build up can make it so tight. He got stuck. The only thing that saved him was his claws. Pried the piece loose and fell down all the way to the bottom. Landed on the missus of the house. No one was seriously hurt but it took some time to coax him back inside."

Simon was looking thoughtful, first down at his feet and then his hands. He rubbed them together and then finally looked up at me. "No foolin'?"

"No foolin'."

He took a deep breath and plucked one of the brushes from inside my cart. He looked it over for a moment and then up at me. "You know, I can tie this to my tail when I climb up. Could help me clean up anything I miss."

"You still need to do it like I taught you."

"Of course," the black fox rolled his eyes dramatically and then grinned, striking a pose with his chest puffed out and his thumb pointing to his chest. "But I've decided. I'm going to be the best chimney sweep in London--no, the world!"

My troubles changed to a brand new flavour of chaos that day. Simon was no longer slacking off on his work but he was constantly testing my patience. He wanted to do things his way, try new things, and every time I told him it was too dangerous or risky he generally did it anyway. The boy had climbed up one of the chimneys with that blasted brush tied to his tail and, while I was loath to admit it at the time, he did get more soot and creosote from the flume than I expected. He did this three more times until it got stuck and he had to yank his tail free of the brush to keep climbing before he suffocated. He had a small bald spot on his tail for his troubles.

Simon learned the hard way, usually getting cut or scraped, but when he learned he remembered. The boy was sharper than any of the others and soon the other boys started to look to him for advice. The little wolf, Avery, was always asking him things about how to do this or that and it made me smile when I heard him retelling my lessons in his typical Simon fashion.

---

"Simon, let's go!" I heard one of my boys shouting in this damned storm. I looked up and squinted through the snow at someone standing on top of one of the homes near me and walked over. I put my cart down and grabbed my kit, scurrying up the ladder. I was too big to go down chimneys but you never really forgot how and where to put your feet when you climbed.

I saw tiny Avery with his head tilted forward and staring down into the chimney. He was shivering cold, snow clinging to his ears and his tail looked frozen solid. There was a rope leading down into the chimney and it was wiggling back and forth, followed by grunts and groans.

"Avery, what's going on?"

The wolf pup jumped and looked up at me with those wide yellow eyes of his. He was still slightly afraid of me even if I had done nothing to harm him. I couldn't help but wonder what had happened to him before coming into my life.

"Simon!" the wolf said, looking back down the chute. "He...he said we needed to get one more house done before we packed it in for the night."

I heard a sneeze from the chimney, followed by a cough and a curse. Avery flattened his ears and made the sign of the cross for Simon.

"It's too cold, the other chimneys on this tenement are lit. He's going to burn!" I stepped over and peered down into the chimney, I could see his head, his pick, and his small body working at a rather large deposit of creosote but he was too far down. I couldn't even poke him with a pole if I wanted to. I looked down at Avery and saw Simon's clothes were bunched up into a pile.

"He's buffing it?!" I groaned and looked back down at Simon. "Boy! Stop what you're doing and get back up here."

"In a second!" Simon cackled as a large chunk fell from the side of the chimney. He then went into a coughing fit. It sounded wet and painful. He had been coughing all week and I had hoped it was something far simpler than what it was. A cough was going through my business, and most of London.

"Simon, it's too cold! You shouldn't be buffing it in this weather!" I thought about tugging the rope but that could get him wedged and stuck. I growled and pulled my face from the chimney. "Boy is going to get himself killed." I looked down at Avery. The boy looked worried and cold and kept shifting his weight from foot to foot. I had an idea.

"Avery, run down to the owner of this chimney. Tell them you need a favour to finish the job. If it doesn't get them moving, offer them half a shilling." I dug into my pocket and pulled out a coin and put it into Avery's hands after taking Simon's clothes from him. "When you're done, go home. You're half frozen."

"Y...Yes sir. What's the favour?"

"Just say you need to help speed things up. They'll know what you mean. "

The wolf pup looked confused but nodded his head anyway and headed downstairs. I sighed and looked down the chimney again, Simon's black fur was making it hard to see him. I could hear him clinking at the side of the bricks and sneezing now and then. He was breathing in too much of the soot. That was bad.

It took only a few minutes but I heard Simon shift about down below, and then yell: "Hey! What's that? Stop that! Stop it!"

There was rapid shuffling and I grabbed the rope, keeping it taught as I heard something scurry up the flume like a cannonball. I do not embellish this tale image when I say Simon shot out of the top, holding his tail close when he could get to it. He rolled down onto the snow and coughed, the soot in his fur blackening the snow he touched.

"Damn wench!" The fox boy got up onto his knees and peered down the side of the house. "I swear to god! Lighting a fire under me tail because I was taking too long! Wanted cooked fox for supper eh? I swears I have me bottle and I ain't afraid of you!"

I yanked the rope and pulled Simon close, throwing his jacket around his shoulders and then his scarf. The black fox coughed and leaned forward, and then looked up at me, frowning. "She tried to cook me!"

"No, she didn't," I said softly and helped Simon into his trousers. "She lit a small fire. It was just enough to be hot. It's probably already out."

"She was tryna kill me! I was about to die!" Simon yelled at me, then broke into a fit of coughing. I watched him double over and hold onto his chest, frowning wide.

"No, Simon, but if we don't get you home, you may end up just that."

---

We were so poor, poorer than we were now, but I made sure we had food and a little bit of medicine. Looking back on it, I'm not too sure if the medicine was ever going to do anything, but it was at least a mental comfort to know I was taking care of you kids.

I had put you in my own room on my bed and lit the small fireplace inside. I didn't always use my own fireplace, I was always attentive to fuel usage, but this time you needed to be warm and my room was small, you would thaw out quickly.

I still remember how you looked when I walked inside, the blizzard howling outside and you hunched forward with a blanket around your shoulders, ears down and looking miserable. It broke my heart. I had seen so many of my own friends die this way. The cough was bad, but you didn't let on how much it probably hurt to cough.

"Simon, eat this," I said softly, holding out the bowl of soup. It was warm and hot, full of bits of chicken we had been saving. Avery had helped me cook it, and it smelled peppery. That boy loved pepper.

I watched as the cub took a spoonful of both and ate slowly, shivering a little as he swallowed the hot liquid and grimaced. "Avery helped, didn't he?"

"He said he wanted to try some combinations of spices and--"

"It's just pepper, you know."

I sighed and took my top hat off, tossing it onto the peg near the wall. It landed without any effort. "Yes. But he likes to cook and his food is almost always edible."

"I hate cooking," Simon wrinkled his nose at the idea as he took more of his soup. I handed him a small flask full of pink liquid. "What's this?"

"Medicine, down in one gulp."

He pulled the cork out with his teeth and spat it down onto the floor. He sniffed the bottle and gave me a wary look before he took the bottle to his lips and drank. He tilted his head back and downed it in one gulp like I said.

I grabbed the bowl of soup from Simon's hands as he exploded into a fit of coughing and cursing, one hand on his throat and a single green eye open, watering, and glaring at me. I could see him trying to form words but the only thing he sounded like was a drunken sailor.

After a few moments of being insulted I could finally understand him. "What the bloody hell was that?! I thought you told us not ta drink from the Thames!"

"It's for that cough in your chest," I pointed at the bit of black fur appearing above the hem of the blanket he had wrapped himself in.

"Aye, and it won't matter if the medicine kills me!" He scowled and took his bowl of soup back, taking a mouthful of broth and meat and then coughing again, covering his muzzle with one hand. "Ach! Pepper!"

I chuckled and got up from the bed to grab a cup and a glass bottle, pouring some in and handing it over to Simon. "Watered-down wine. Don't drink it too fast or you could--" The cup was emptied before I could even finish. I sighed and refilled it, shaking my head. "I said to take it slow."

"I had ta get the river water out of me mouth."

"It wasn't...Simon, it was medicine."

"Aye, proper cure it was too I bet. Kill the patient, everyone wins."

I lightly smacked him on the back of his head. "None of that," I said sternly.

"Ugh, why?"

I wasn't sure what to say when you asked me that question. All this time I had been wanting to do one thing, keep you boys safe, or as safe as I could, but the question hit me harder than I realised and I slipped. So I told you the truth.

"The likelihood of you seeing eighteen is small, Simon. You, Billy, Avery, Dexter, Samson, Christian... People in our line of work, boys in our line of work, barely live past the age of thirteen."

I'll never forget how scared you looked. You never showed fear, not once since I had taken you in, but this was real, tangible fear. I looked down and saw your soup bowl trembling. I frowned and reached out, putting my hand over the small black fox next to me. I knew the question that hovered above your head even without you asking: Why?

"There are lots of reasons," I explained softly. "It's very easy to get stuck and die. Or you get the coughs from all the soot, or you fall and break your neck. Or you don't get enough to eat and starve. Odds are against chimney sweeps."

"Then...why did you take us in? If we're only gonna die...why would you do that?"

"With me, at least, I can do what I can to make sure you don't die. You know who was looking for your papers after me? Textile factory owner. You can die there easily, and get maimed too. Or at the steel mill. Easy to get crushed and burned. You wouldn't have much of a better chance unless you got very lucky and some rich family, like the Crossbells, adopted you or something. We have the deck stacked against us, Simon. Stacked so high that it might as well reach the tip of Big Ben. I just do what I can to make it a little more..." I looked for the best word. "Fair."

"Like the medicine?"

I nodded with a soft smile on my face. "Most Master Sweeps wouldn't care if you got sick; they'd consider it a waste of money to buy medicine, since it's expensive. But I make sure you boys have your meals every day, as meagre as they can be, and have clothes and medicine should you need 'em."

Simon looked down at his soup, which he tilted up to his muzzle and finished in a few loud gulps. He licked his lips and put it down next to him. "But...why? If we're rubbish, why do you care?"

I chuckled and rubbed the back of the boy's neck, giving him a warm squeeze. "I was rubbish too, you know. I promised myself that if I became a master sweep I'd do better for the boys. I know it's shaky, and you lot can drive me mad with worry, but everyone I talk to says Alister's boys are the happiest chimney sweeps this side of London."

We were quiet for a bit, just listening to the wind outside and the crackling fire. I got up and checked on the main room, which was surprisingly quiet. Avery and Billy were cleaning up, so I went over to them and told them to make the fire hot before going to bed. They agreed and I went back to Simon in my room, closing the door behind me.

I could already tell he wasn't coughing as much.

"Tonight I want you to bunk with me. I need you to stay warm and you always let the other boys sleep closer to the fire. Plus my room gets warm quickly."

"But I--"

"No, Simon," I said with a gentleness to my voice. "You hate it when it's pointed out but you look out for your friends, especially that Avery boy, but it's my job to make sure you're fit as a fiddle. So lie down. I promise I don't snore."

Simon was already down to his trousers and I began to undress down to mine. I would not subject someone to the visage of me naked, especially one of my boys who was getting better. I fetched an old quilt from the closet and unfurled it, draping it over the bed and motioned for Simon to crawl in. I turned the lamp out and slipped in next to him.

For a while I think both of us worried we would never get to sleep. But the day had been exhausting and Simon was sick, so both of us started to nod off. Just as I was feeling the darkness edge around my vision I felt the boy push against me. I turned over, facing Simon, who pushed his back into my chest.

Stunned, not sure what to do, I just laid there for a few long minutes, but then relaxed and curled my arm around the boy. I pushed my body against his, curling myself around him, protecting him.

Loving him.

Simon shivered in his sleep and I stayed with him. The first night would be the riskiest, if he could get through it I knew he would be on the mend. He started coughing in the darkest hours of the night and his breathing became heavier, hader, louder. I dare say I am embarrassed to write this down, but I thought I would lose Simon that night.

I said a prayer that night as I laid curled around the boy who had no one but himself. The boy who was both a headache and a charmer, a problem but always the solution. I still remember the words to this day:

Dear Lord--

I am not a religious man, and I am not one to ask for any help in the grand scheme of life. But please, protect this child and everything he holds dear. See to it that he lives to an old age happy and full of life, surrounded by those he loves and cares for. I will do everything in my earthly power to protect him and keep him on the right path. I will watch over him even in death, should you allow it. I know his life will be a hard one. Please bring people into it who can keep him safe and loved.

--Thank you.

That was the night I knew Simon was special. He got better, and not only that, he got stronger. I say my prayer every day, asking the Lord to give Simon, and by extension all my boys, the gift of happiness and love, but I am also aware that I have to do my part to see to it they find those things in life.

---

The weather had cleared up and the sky was bright and blue but the air was crisp. We had stayed inside for two days, the blizzard was too much for anyone to go out in, let alone work. When we could finally get out and get back to work, it took everything I had to keep Simon home and in bed.

I was worried he wouldn't make it constantly during those days. He was so small, and he had developed a fever, but like everything the boy did, he mastered his illness and was on the mend quicker than I had ever seen someone bounce back. He was still supposed to rest for a couple days, just to make sure the cough had worked its course.

You can forgive my surprise, then, when I saw Simon climb up the ladder onto the large tenement house I was on. One of the other boys had gone down a flume. I was just double checking his work when the blasted cub peeked his head over the lip of the roof.

"Reporting for duty, sir!" He hauled himself onto the roof with his kit bag over a shoulder, much too heavy for a boy his size, and his too-large hat cocked to one side. He grinned at me while one green eye peered out from under the cap.

I was preparing to admonish the boy for taking such a risk when he was so ill just the night before, when I paused. "Simon...Simon...Wait, what is your last name?" I was surprised I hadn't ever asked, or found out.

The boy shrugged his shoulders and looked around London. "Dunno. Mum 'n Da didn't exactly leave me with much but a blanket. The nuns named me Simon."

"That so..." I rubbed my chin for a moment and then leaned against the chimney. "You open to suggestions, boy?"

I was catching on. He shrugged as if he didn't care but his tail swished three times behind him. He was excited but he didn't want to show that he was. The boy was clever but he was still just a boy.

"With the way you're going, with the skills you show, there's only one name I can think that would fit you perfectly, my dear Simon." I took my top hat off and dropped to a knee in front of the small black fox, grinning. "King."

There was silence. I had worried I may have overstepped my bounds with the suggestion. I was starting to stand up when I felt his small body collide with mine, hugging me tightly and burying his face into my chest. I couldn't help but smile and curl my own arms around him, just holding him.

"I love it," he whispered, trying not to show me the dampness under his eyes. I swallowed hard, trying to push back my own. I didn't want to see any of my boys cry--or have them see me doing so.

"Simon King it is," I said warmly, rubbing his back with my claws out and giving him a nice back scratch. "Well, my king, are you feeling better today? Enough to work?"

"Yes, sir!"

"Well, let's see how much those longs of yours have healed."

I pulled out my old, beat-up pocket watch and flipped open the cover. I looked down at the boy and grinned. I repeated the question that I asked him when we spoke for the first time at the church:

"How long can you hold your breath?"