Please Sir, I Want Some More - Oliver Twist

I stared at the untouched gruel that lay in front of me which was as watery as a teardrop. However, I had no intention to tuck in like a pack of wolves (although this was abnormal after working without a pause to rest tired joints); the thought of the job I would have to do eventually had reacted by an appetite vanished. I clutched the wooden spoon that lay beside the bowl and scooped the remains until my stomach was slightly satiated.

I slowly polished the bowl with a thick coat of saliva till it glistened like gold. Soon, with many an urge from the boys beside me; I was propelled by the shoulder blades into the middle of the hall. A chair moaned in the distance and with a sudden lash of confidence, I gingerly tiptoed down the length of the hallway and attracted faces that were quite soaked with admiration and in apprehension.

Widow Corney, at the sight of my advancing ragged figure informed Mr. Bumble with a sharp poke in the ribs to which he reacted and was clearly alarmed by my act.

Fear washed over me like a wave crashing onto a shore and coward as I was, I faced Mr Bumble’s face which had contorted and deformed like a surgery gone wrong. His bottom lip protruded as I held out the bowl with shaking hands and whispered the plea: “Please sir, I want some more.” A deathly silence swept the room.

“WHAT?” Mr Bumble cried. He let out scream of rage and as it continued I grew weak in terror until my knees grew numb and buckled and the bowl crashed down beside me and I landed head first onto the cold, stone floor.