Spawn of Satan

A breezy morning. A large city. A girl, wandering in the streets, alone. She wore flannel over a white tee and jeans. A cry of “Pani Puri! Samose! The best there are! Come and eat!” reaches her ears. Excited, she runs over to the stall but comes to a grinding halt when she realizes she doesn’t have enough money to buy these delicacies. She looks around, wondering if she should go all the way back home, or find a wealthy person to steal from-not that she had any reservations against filching the poor. Spotting an impudent, fat, rich lady wearing far too many rings in her hands than necessary. The girl could see the lady pay for something she'd just bought, and keeping the change in a mini-purse. Hmm, so that's where the money's at she thought. She strolled by the woman, swaying slightly, and pushed the bicycles stacked behind the lady, making them fall in a manner akin to dominos. She went back to the vendor, holding the purse she'd swiped during the commotion that followed. She went to the vendor and bought as much food as she could possibly stomach-perhaps even more so-and then went about looking for the woman she had stolen from. 
Said woman had been hysterical, screaming for her missing purse. "Is this yours?" The little five-year-old asked the woman, presenting her purse. "Oh yes it is, you little devil! Come here this instant! Let me teach you a lesson, stealing purses of adults!" The little girl scrunched her nose, looking as if she were about to cry, "Auntie is mean! I was just helping her!" See's the little kid's innocent face, the townsfolk started berating the woman, not giving heed to her cries of "but my money! it's missing!" The little girl slipped away unseen, and no one saw the smirk on her face, the smirk that could only belong to a Spawn of Satan. 
-Rosalind Hathaway
Category:Short Stories