This story is my entry for historical fiction. It had to be set in the Great Depression of 1929 and between 1,000 to 3,000 words. Word count 1,158

Some people would always look back to the Great Depression as a dark spot in history; filled with tragedies and horrors. Starvation had eaten away at their bodies and chipped apart at their souls. Families were torn apart. Hard choices were made. It was a time when you found out what you were truly capable of. After all, everything was a free-for-all behind locked doors. Nobody cared what happened, they were too concerned about their own survival. Human compassion was a tricky thing when in the face of death.

And there were deaths; some of them were of starvation, while others were murdered before their time. Then there were those who had decided to take fate in their own hands.

There were some that stood around to judge those actions, shaking their heads at the insanity and madness of it all. Most people though had those same fleeting thoughts in their own heads; was it better to let your family go homeless and starve, or to end the suffering? Those were the ones who didn't judge, because they knew there were no guarantees that things would get better. It was as if hell had come to collect the sinners. And we were all sinners, were we not? Doomed before we even began.

Me, however, I flourished. I took that bleak moment in time and turned it into an opportunity.

~

There was little concern for the less fortunate. None worried about what was to become of us, the orphaned children. We were forgotten and abandoned. Just an extra mouth to feed when food was scarce. And another pair of hopeless eyes to haunt them in their despair.

The orphanages were filling up, and I had pitied those poor souls who were left behind. They were taken from their homes to a place where nobody wanted them. They would always know that their parents had chosen themselves over them. That whatever money and food they had, they decided it would last longer without them. Or their parents knew they would die, and gave their children one last chance. It was their one last act of hope, but I found it to be selfish.

Those kids they left were now to face starvation alone, as rations were spread thinner and thinner to meet the demands. They were forced to cram into spaces already filled, adding another small face among many. What chance did they, or any of us, had to get adopted? With the way things were going, it wasn't good. I sometimes wondered if they, the parents, were delivered a crueler fate. To be alone, coughing and wheezing through the nights. Their stomachs tight with hunger as tears streaked down their faces. There was no one to comfort them, to tell them it would be alright.

Medical care was hard to come by nor was it a high priority. And with so many malnourished children crammed in one place, sickness bloomed. Weak small bodies were not able to compete and defend against it. They were to die without a family, to die not belonging to the world. No mothers, no fathers to claim them. No one to hold their hands as they passed on.

It was the moms though, that really caught my attention. They would come in, alone. And you knew, you could tell by the look in their eyes and the way they stood, that they had lost all hope. They had the look of death. Like it was their lover, brushing upon them and kissing them. Their eyes were sunken in with dark circles beneath. And their skin was an unhealthy shade of pale.

Abandoned, undoubtedly by their husbands, they gave up the only things they had left to them; their children. It was heartbreaking, the cries of the little ones as they clung to their mothers. They didn't want to be left behind and held on tight with all their might. But the moms didn't even shed a tear as they pried their little fingers away and placed them in the hands of the caretakers.

I always wondered what became of those women. Were they hardened with a new determination to survive, or did they wallow in self-pity until they withered away to bones? Either way, I didn't want to become like them. I wanted to live. So I ran. The orphanages didn't care. I was just one less mouth to feed.

I sprinted away from death, from crying babies wanting their mommies, and from a life without any future.

~

Under the cover of night, I had hauled my way out the window and straight to the train station. There was one that had started to pull out, dark puffs of smoke blowing out of its chimney. I remember the place having a distinct smell, but it was one that I would come to love.

I saw an open freight car and hopped in, becoming a hobo that the providers at orphanages had talked about.

Standing inside, my eyes adjusted to the dimness as I took in my surroundings. There were dirty, ragged faces huddled in corners or along the wall. They didn't seem to mind me, so I kept to myself and found an empty space to slide down the wall. That was when I heard the moaning and grunting. From the light of the moon shining through the holes in the freight car, I saw a man and woman in a corner. And I watched them out of curiosity. I had never seen anything like that before. Of course, there were a lot I had never seen before. The trains changed all that though.

The lady saw me watching, her eyes stared at me uncaring and detached. She let the man have his way with her. And after, I saw how he had paid her.

"Hey, doll-face." I felt a hand on my shoulder. I turned to see a gruff and dingy man. He was in need of a good washing. "I seen you watching. So how about it, honey?" He placed his hand on my thigh. "I can make it worth your while." His voice was hoarse and his breath smelled horrible. I wanted to get away from him, but he opened his ragged-thin coat with his other hand, showing me a loaf of bread. My mouth started to water at the sight. I went to reach for it as he snatched his jacket shut. "So, what do you say, baby-doll? Have we got a deal?"

"Yes."

I felt him lowering me to the floor, and pulling up my dress. I watched how he quickly fumbled with his drawers. I shut my eyes to the pain as he pushed his way inside, feeling the hard rough train beneath me. And I suddenly knew how that woman in the corner had felt. But I didn't care. I had found my ticket to surviving.

That bread had been the best tasting loaf I ever had. It tasted of freedom.