This story is a bit different than most I write. All Wattpad Stars were invited to submit a short story (max 3,500 words, which is a bit bigger than most of my chapters), and Wattpad was going to pick several for an Anthology. There were a lot of awesome entries, and unfortunately, mine wasn't picked, but I figured I'd share it here. My first-ever short story.

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The morning was overcast and grey as a shabbily dressed man limped down the street. Most of those passing by detoured around the homeless man, not sparing him a glance. Earl was used to it - it had been his life for the last three years.

A doorway ahead opened, and an elderly lady with curlers in her hair leaned out on her cane. "Earl, right on time."

"Good Morn'in, Ma'am." He stopped by the bottom of the steps.

A black garbage bag was tossed down the stairs. Her strength wasn't what it used to be, and it rolled down the last two steps, stopping by his feet.

"Please be a gentleman and take that to the dumpster for me." Two coins clattered down the stairs; the customary two dollars she usually paid for this task.

"Sure thing, ma'am."

Earl tucked the money into his pocket before grabbing the bag in his left hand since his right was too maimed to carry it. He trudged into the back alley as rats scampered along the edges of the building, disappearing down tunnels and behind other junk dumped there. He managed to wrestle the bag into the opening of the bin, and it landed inside with a dull thud.

With his task done, he left the back alley. To his surprise, the woman was still standing in her doorway.

"Aye, Earl. Got 'nother job for you, if you want it."

"What kind of job, Ma'am?" He inquired cautiously. He wasn't as spry as he used to be, so some tasks were beyond him.

"Do you see that kitten over there?"

He turned around and saw a thin tabby kitten huddled up against a window. "The grey one?"

"It's been hanging around here for three days. Here's ten bucks to catch it and find a home for it. Even if you just stick it in a box and drop it at the animal shelter."

The bill twirled through the air, landing some distance from him. He shambled over and picked it up before turning to look at the sleeping kitten. This was one of the strangest requests he'd ever heard, although it would pay ten bucks. How hard could it be to catch a half-starved kitten?

"I'll try, Ma'am."

There were enough discarded boxes in the back alley to put it in once he caught it, so he walked closer, hoping it would ignore him as it had the other people going by.

He flexed the fingers on his right hand - or rather, tried to - they barely moved. Faded scars and disfigured joints were the only visible signs of the day a forklift had crushed his hand beyond repair. Taking a deep breath, he moved as quickly as he could, trying to grab the small feline before it realized what he was doing.

His fingers wrapped around its thin fur and boney ribs. Then, like a slippery bar of soap, the kitten managed to rocket out of his hands with all the speed of a lightning bolt.

Feeling the woman's eyes on him, he trudged down the back alley after the pint-sized tabby. It was still ahead of him, picking it's way across the puddles and around garbage scattered about. It looked back, saw him, and sped up.

Earl followed behind, waiting for it to go into hiding so he could pull it out. The tall brick buildings on either side of the alley formed a solid, unified front against anything that might possibly be trying to get through.

The kitten ran on ahead, coming out to the next street. He kept trudging after it, knowing that cats usually didn't go more than a block or two from their usual location. He was so focused on the cat that he didn't notice anything else.

"Out of the way, you bum," a man said, as he pushed him against a building.

Earl staggered back and braced himself against the rough bricks, biting his tongue to keep from saying something he might regret later. It wasn't as if he was out on the streets by choice. There were so many things he could say; how he'd been trying to find a job every day, how most employers wouldn't consider someone with no address, how high rent was, the price of his insulin. Yet, he knew his words wouldn't make a difference, so he kept silent, although the man was already gone, having kept walking.

Shaking his head, he looked around. As if it had just been waiting for him to spot it, the grey kitten left the doorway it had been standing in and took off down the next back alley. Still leaning against the bricks, Earl briefly wondered if it would be easier to return the ten-dollar bill, but he didn't really have anything else to do until this afternoon when someone at the employment center would photocopy his resume so he could hand more out.

With a sigh and a couple of coughs, he stumbled after the pesky furball. Block after block, it kept ahead of him, panting, but refusing to slow down. Earl watched as the kitten darted across a two-lane road, having somehow picked the only gap in the traffic. Again. It should have used up all nine of its lives two blocks ago.

Like every time before, it paused and curled up by the next alley, as if waiting to see if he was going to finally go away. A break appeared in the traffic, and he ran across the road as best he could. He was coughing by the time he reached the sidewalk, and he dropped onto a bench for a breather.

The persistent smoker's cough refused to settle, and he kept coughing as if he hadn't stopped smoking two years ago. He covered his mouth with the tattered sleeve of his jacket to contain the noise. Two people walked past, detouring around him as if he'd stuck his legs out to trip them, which he'd never do.

Still coughing, he watched them walk hand-in-hand away from the restaurant they'd come out of. The man opened the door of his new-looking car for the woman, letting her get in before he went around to get into the driver's seat. An idyllic view of a life he wished he had a chance at.

Earl still had his driver's license, although the thought of being able to afford a car was as far out of his reach as the stars. Instead, he longed for the simple things, a place to call home, perhaps it'd have a working furnace, and, maybe, one of those small fridges. If he was really lucky, it would even have some food in it.

He shook his head, coming back to the reality of how hard it was to get off the street with no income, no clean clothes, no address, no cellphone, and no recent employment history.

"Mind if I sit here?"

Earl looked up, surprised by the man standing there, who he hadn't even noticed until just now.

Recalling his manners, Earl gestured to the seat beside him. "Be my guest."

The words were followed by another round of coughing. The stranger sat beside him and set his backpack by his feet. He rummaged around inside and held a bottle of water to Earl, who, after a brief hesitation, took it and drank gratefully.

"Thank you." His cough finally ceased, which was a relief.

"Seen some hard days, huh?"

"Some are harder than others," Earl admitted.

"True. Keep doing your best, though."

Earl nodded slowly, not entirely sure how to reply. He had just chased a kitten almost ten blocks - how was this doing his best?

"And there's my bus. Keep pressing on and keep to the straight path. Life isn't always easy, but as long as you don't give up, there's always hope."

Instead of telling the stranger how little hope there really was, he merely said, "Thanks for the water. I hope you have a good day."

The stranger nodded and stood up, walking towards the bus that slowed down and opened its doors for him. Moments later, the bus was gone, and the stranger with it. The only evidence of his passing was the water bottle and the memory of his strange words.

Plaintive mewing made him look behind him. Huddled against the base of a building, the kitten cried pitifully. Earl got to his feet, and the kitten took one look at him before scampering down the back alley.

He glanced down at the water bottle in his hand. The object spoke more volumes than the man's strange words had. Perhaps he just didn't know how to interact with street people. Most people didn't. With a wry grin, he realized that he wasn't doing a much better job of catching the kitten, either. Perhaps he'd have to change his approach.

With a heavy sigh, he stood up and went after the still-mewling fuzzball that had already disappeared down the back alley. He vowed that if he didn't catch it in five blocks, he'd give up since the kitten was clearly in better shape than him.

His surroundings slowly transformed from the tight residential areas to run-down warehouses. He could hear the kitten ahead of him, but couldn't get close enough to see it. Shouting ahead caught his attention.

"Jerry! You okay?"

"Find something to brace it! It'll crush him if it falls!"

"Here!"

"It's still coming down!"

The kitten forgotten, Earl ran forward as fast as his limp allowed. Rounding the corner of a warehouse, he saw two men inside trying to brace empty pallets against a ceiling-high pallet rack that was leaning forward precariously. Loose boxes and bags on the shelves were starting to slide off; one of the shelves had completely snapped, and its load of sandbags was currently pinning a third struggling man to the floor.

To the side, stood a forklift. The same type of machine that he ended his career four years ago. Sweat sheened across his forehead as he took a deep breath and ran towards the demon from his past. Pulling himself up and dropping into the driver's seat, he turned the key.

It didn't even attempt to turn over and start - which was probably why they weren't using it to brace the collapsing shelving.

In one last desperate attempt, he yanked the side panel open and slammed his maimed fist against the compartment that held the electrical relays while turning the key. Just like the old behemoth that he had once used, it sputtered and roared to life.

With a familiarity that transcended time, his hands spun the steering wheel while shifting the gears, sending the forklift spinning towards the shelving that threatened to end someone's life. He raised the tines to a height just below the middle shelf. It was low enough that the forklift wouldn't topple backward, yet high enough to keep the entire pallet rack from completely collapsing.

Spinning the forklift in the aisle so it faced its foe, Earl sent it forward, slowing as he neared the shelving, then edging it in until the tines took the weight of that shelf. Trying to ignore the loose boxes and bags that might fall down from higher up, he put the forklift into park and jumped out.

The trapped man was right beside the forklift, and Earl strained to pull the large sandbags off the man as fast as he could. Despite the danger, the other two men also raced forward to help.

"Grab that board," one man ordered, pointing to a piece of broken shelving while dragging a sandbag with his other hand. "Those bags hit him pretty hard - he might have spinal damage, but we need to get him to safety."

The other man raced over to grab it and returned quickly. The shelves groaned above, and the forklift's tires creaked as it held more weight. The ominous sound had all three men working feverishly as one to free the person trapped.

"Hold still, Jerry. We're going to slide you onto the shelf once you're free."

The pale man gulped, his wide eyes locked onto the threat looming over his rescuers.

"Quick! Push the shelf beside him, and we'll slide him onto it! Ben, make sure his head and neck don't move."

Without being asked, Earl knelt down by the stranger, ready to help push him onto the makeshift stretcher.

"Smoothly, on the count of three! One, two, three!"

The man groaned but was eased onto the shelf.

"Pick him up! Let's go!"

Earl grabbed onto one side of the shelf and lifted with the others, his left hand finding more grip than his right. Their shuffle was fast and panicked, but they didn't stop until they were outside, well out of danger.

"Alright, we can set him down. Ben, you still got your phone on you? Mine's in the office."

He patted his pockets and pulled out the cellphone. "I'll call an ambulance."

He began dialling as the first man checked the man on the makeshift stretcher.

"How are you doing, Jerry?"

"Bit sore, but I don't think there's any real damage."

"That's good. Just don't move until the paramedics check you over."

"Alright."

The first man sighed in relief and glanced back at the pallet racking leaning on the forklift. Recalling the stranger in their midst, he turned to Earl.

"Thanks for the help."

"You're welcome."

"How'd you get that thing running? It's been broken for days."

"An old trick when the wiring needs to be redone." Earl shrugged self-consciously.

"Well, you certainly arrived in the nick of time. Anything we can do to show our appreciation?"

Earl fidgeted and took a chance. "I don't suppose you have a job opening?"

The man took a second look at Earl, only now realizing the state of his clothing and the amount of dirt on his skin.

"You're on the streets?"

"Yeah..."

The man tapped his fingers in thought. "I'll tell you what. There's a spare office in the warehouse next door that you can stay in, provided you keep an eye on things at night, kind of like informal security. I could also use another person who can run a forklift reliably."

It was all Earl had hoped for over the last three years and more. A second chance, even if it involved the very thing that had been his original downfall.

"I'd love that, sir."

The man nodded, decisive now. "That settles it, then. I'll bring a cot over so you can sleep there tonight." He turned a stern eye on Earl. "But, if I catch you with any amount of booze or any street highs, you're out. Got that?"

Earl stood straighter. "Yes, sir."

"Good."

Pitiful mewling made both of them look to the side, where a thin, grey kitten crouched down and cried for all the world to hear.

"When you come back, can you catch that kitten and take it into the warehouse? We need another mouser around here."

"I'll give it a shot," Earl replied dubiously.

"There's some cat kibble in a coffee tin by the front door. Try that. I'll be around here or in the front office at least until six o'clock. Will that be enough time to gather your stuff and come back?"

"Yes, sir."

"Come find me when you return, then."

Taking that as a dismissal, Earl went around the warehouse, and sure enough, there was a coffee tin of kibble by the front door. He took a handful and went in search of the kitten. It was right where he had last seen it.

As he slowly approached, it slunk behind stacks of pallets piled haphazardly against the warehouse. Earl scattered the food around the spot where it had gone in. Even if he couldn't catch it, it'd probably hang around this area if it found food here once.

Picking up the water bottle he'd dropped earlier, he began the long walk back to where he'd hidden his belongings earlier this morning. He didn't hurry, though. The events felt almost unreal, as if it were just a wishful dream. It was going to take some time for things to sink in.

The clouds above slowly parted, and the sun shone down upon Earl. As he walked past a particular house, a knock on the window made him look up. He saw the eldery woman shuffling toward the door, so he waited for her.

The door opened, and she leaned out. "Did you catch it?"

A soft smile appeared on Earl's face as he pulled out the ten-dollar bill and climbed the stairs to hand it to her. "No, Ma'am. It got away, but I found a home for it, and I'm off to find it after I grab my stuff. I also got a job, so I won't be by to take your garbage for you. Thank you for your kindness all these years."

The wrinkles on her creased face pulled up in a toothless smile as she took the bill. "Be off with you, then. And don't forget us poor folk when you move up in the world."

"I won't, Ma'am," he promised as he backed down the stairs.

"Tell one of yer reliable friends to come carry my garbage every morning."

"I'll do that, Ma'am. Have a good day."

"You too, Earl."

He smiled as he continued walking. Perhaps there was still some hope left in this world, both for someone on the streets as well as a starving kitten.