Tasha Leningratsky

Inexperienced youth making hasty decisions, aggravated now by the ability to learn/cast spells.


Born here in Russia. Somewhere. Date? Not sure.. I mean, what would you want me to say? That I can remember birthday parties from when I was a kid? No, and glad of it. I’ve seen that look the others had when that day came…and went…with no cake, no songs, no hugs. I never want to know that feeling. Their face was pain enough. Fuck those people. Those parents. Mine did it right. I don’t remember a thing of them. So what’s there to miss? Yeah, nothing. Best if you ask me. Easier to get on with it.

Doesn’t mean it was easy but that came down to warmth and food. Most days… I would have gladly taken just a little warmth over anything to put in my stomach. You’d think with the lot of us that we’d manage some heat between us all. You’d be wrong. Couldn’t huddle close enough on those streets. And those of you that walked by decked out in your winter best..paying no thought to the group of hungry, freezing kids? You only made it feel colder. I hated people like you. But the others? They were just left wanting..

So, yes, we stole. Scoff if you want…but you, all of you, have done worse. What was a soiled afghan to rest of you as opposed to the few of us? Comfort, god dammit. We couldn’t nick enough of them. But that’s not why I’m here is it? None of you care about missing blankets. Just as none of you cared about us rummaging through the bins for food…until we found the good ones that is. Those, you learned to keep locked tight. Heaven forbid we eat your garbage while it’s still halfway decent.

No. I’m here because I tried. Tried to make due without the worthless lot of you. Because, I’m older now…out survived my first group and trying, now, to teach this new bunch of streetlings how to do the same. Did it bother you that much? Our makeshift homes made from your discarded scraps of plywood and cardboard, stuffed with crumpled newspaper and trash for insulation, our small but prosperous root plants cluttering your ditches … Did it bother you they weren’t freezing fast enough anymore? Not the right amount of starved, rigid bodies in your alleyways…not enough pathetic dirty tramps bearing a resemblance to children begging at your stoops?

It did. It bothered all of you that these kids could be organized and taught. Cared for. That while their parents chose to nurse vodka instead of their babies…. your system couldn’t give a wretch…and still doesn’t because guess what… they aren’t here now are they? Here in this facility with us… no…just me, the bigger kid who tried to give a damn. You smug bastard, acting like I should be grateful because you’ve found someone to ship me off to across the globe. Thankful that I wont be out there on my own anymore? No, not in the least. They’re still out there alone with no one to show them any different and you all have stolen them from me.

Tasha Leningratsky

The Keys to Heaven kahbloom