In Class Assignment: Character Archetypes

## Protagonist

Dirt was eleven. Still decidedly a child. A child who bore
far more woes than any child deserves to bare. He sat on the hard, packed earth
that made up the road between two structurally unsound buildings, clothed in
nothing but large sheets of dirtied, grayish cloth. In his hand he held a brass
cup, with four simple objects inside. A piece of a brick, one shiny coin, a
dried leaf, and a dead lizard. These things, including the cup and the sheets
on his back, were all Dirt had to his name, if you could even call it a name.
He went by what those around him yelled at him, whatever name he might have
had, lost.

Every day Dirt sat in this same place, between these two
decrepit buildings, and held out his cup, hoping to add to the riches inside
it. Most ignored him, some sped up to walk past him, and some stopped only to
spit in his face. But some days were not so bad, and some days a kind soul
would stop and drop a few coins in his cup, or hand him a small bag with
something to eat. Today was one such lucky day. A kindly older woman stooped
low to some difficulty, and handed Dirt a still warm, freshly baked loaf of
bread. Dirt locked eyes with the woman and smiled a brilliant smile, one that
the woman nearly gasped at. She was filled with warmth and love with that
smile.

“Thank you,” Dirt said, in a scratchy and hoarse voice that
somehow perfectly fit his name. Despite how weak the sound was, the woman was
floored by the quiet strength behind it. The woman, nodded, then stood and left
the boy, feeling somehow a little renewed and a little younger than she had
when she stooped down.

Dirt watched the woman go, genuine gratitude
shining in his eyes. Then, he took a small bite of the loaf of bread, savoring
the soft, springy texture and the warmth that radiated from it and filled him.
The the rest of the loaf was later divided equally among all the street
children and adults that Dirt knew, each getter to share in that little moment
of joy and gratitude that the warm loaf of bread provided.

## Antagonist

The man in red, as Dirt called him, for he didn’t know his
name, had finally found him. He had found many other street children, and all
Dirt knew was that when he found them, Dirt never saw them again. He did not
know what the man in red did, but Dirt was terrified of him. The man was an
angry, gruff looking man, on the older side, but still held up by significant
muscle. He carried a cane with him at all times that was not used to help him
walk. His rich red boots matched his big red coat, which matched the bright red
color that spilled from Dirt’s knee when the man smacked him with the cane and
caused him to crash to the earth.

“Get up,” snarled the man. “I won’t have no weaklings in my
workshop.”

Dirt stood with shaky legs, brass cup still firmly in his
hands. The man wrenched it from the boy, looked inside, and scoffed. He dumped the
contents on the ground and crushed them beneath the heel of his shiny leather
boot, then tossed the cup aside with a dull clatter. Dirt, who was normally a
very docile and submissive child, flared up at the loss of his treasures, he
dove to the ground and began shoving the man’s boot and scratching at his leg.
The man in red roared in anger and grabbed Dirt by the collar, hauling him up
in a way that partially choked him.

“You’re *mine* now,
ya worthless shit, you will learn to behave,” he spat, then tossed Dirt back to
the ground.

“I will *make*
*you behave,” the red man hissed, raising his cane again.*

## Role Reverse Interaction

Dirt stood tall, practically looming over the man that was
usually much taller than him, but now currently curled on the ground,
sniveling, snot dripping from his nose and dirt clouding his eyes. A hoard of
other children stood behind Dirt, looking stoic.

“Get out,” said Dirt clearly and without falter.

“Th-this is my shop,” the man in the red coat tried to yell
forcefully, but it came out more as a whimper.
“You can’t kick me out of m-my shop.”

Dirt showed no expression on his youthful face as he stared
down at the man he was forcing away. He did not care for the well to do, and
certainly not one who could not seem to spare a handful of change. The boy
turned his back on the cowering man, and as he did, it seemed to signal the
rest of the children to act.

All of the children swarmed the man in the red coat,
screaming and kicking and biting and scratching at him.

The man yelled at them to stop and cursed and
kicked, and then stopped moving all together. The sea of children parted and
Dirt stood there again. He crouched down, observing the man who was beat beyond
recognition with a detached expression. Then he walked around behind the man, and
pulled off his shiny red boots.