I Met a Lonely Little Boy with a Baby in Stroller Buying Clothes on the Flea Market – I Decided to Follow Him
As Edison walks through a weekend flea market, he sees a young boy with a stroller and a sleeping baby inside. As he follows the boy, he finds them entering a dilapidated house. Unable to stop himself, Edison intervenes, trying to ensure the safety of the boy and the baby while trying to remain objective.
“Look at these vintage globes, sir!” a vendor said, trying to catch my attention. “They’re in great quality! Some of them open at the middle, and you can stash things inside.”
Antique globes on a shelf | Source: Midjourney
I laughed at the man, wondering what would fit into the tiny space inside these objects.
It was just another typical Saturday morning, and I was meandering through the flea market, searching for hidden treasures and eating my way through a bagel.
A person holding a bagel sandwich | Source: Midjourney
“No,” I said, brushing the man off. “I’m good, thank you!”
I made my way through the antique wooden boxes next, taking photos of them for my mother, but something unusual caught my eye.
A young boy, no more than twelve or thirteen, dressed in tattered clothes, was buying baby clothes from one of the stalls. Next to him was a stroller with a baby sleeping peacefully.
“Where are your parents?” I asked, approaching him.
A sleeping baby in a stroller | Source: Midjourney
The boy froze, eyes wide with fear. Suddenly, he snatched my phone and hurled it into the crowd.
I ran to retrieve it; as a lawyer, my phone was full of confidential information, and I couldn’t afford for anyone to get to it.
But the moment I turned away, the boy was already slipping away through the crowd, pushing the stroller with force.
“Hey! Wait!” I shouted, but he was off.
A boy running away | Source: Midjourney
“He’s been coming here often,” the old woman selling the used baby clothes said. “He always comes from that direction. Just follow the path, and you should find him. Help them. The baby is too young to be on the street.”
“What?” I asked her, wanting to hear more, but she was already busy with people browsing her stall.
I decided to follow him from a distance. Even though he had taken off, I figured I could follow the path as the woman said.
For about ten minutes, I tailed the boy through winding streets until he reached a dilapidated abandoned house.
A dilapidated and abandoned house | Source: Midjourney
“What is going on?” I muttered under my breath.
The place was a wreck, with signs of an old fire and general neglect that had taken over the house.
I watched through the window as the boy wheeled the stroller into the living room, and struggled to light a fire in a coal pot in the middle of the room.
My eyes scanned the room, trying to find an adult. Finally, I saw a man lying on the floor.
That was it.
“What’s going on here?” I demanded, stepping inside.
A man sleeping on the floor | Source: Midjourney
The boy jumped, knocking over the thin long metal pole he used to stoke the fire. The man stirred awake, jolted by my voice.
“Are you their father?” I continued. “Why are they living like this? Are you hurt? I’m a lawyer, sir. I can have you stripped of your parental rights. This isn’t an environment for children!”
“Please, don’t call the police or social services,” the man pleaded, sitting up with difficulty. “I can explain.”
“Explain? This is child neglect!” I shot back.
A man holding his face | Source: Midjourney
“These kids aren’t mine,” he said, nodding to the boy. “This is Dylan, and the baby is Simon. Their parents abandoned them weeks ago, and somehow Dylan ended up finding this house.”
“And you’ve been living here?” I asked.
The man nodded.
A close-up of a man with a beard | Source: Pexels
“My name is Joe,” he said. “I’ve been here for a few months. I lost my job working as a cleaner in a supermarket. There was a robbery, and the person behind it blamed me. There wasn’t any way to prove my innocence, so I was sent packing. The boys have been with me since they arrived.”
“I’m scared that Simon and I will be separated,” Dylan said. “So, Joe has been caring for us.”
A young boy | Source: Midjourney
“But you cannot live like this,” I said. “You need proper food and care, and a place to sleep. Simon needs more than that. What, he’s a year old? Younger? He cannot survive like this.”
Joe sighed.
“Look, man. I grew up in shelters and foster homes. My childhood was a nightmare. Given the choice, I’d pick these living conditions any day. That’s why I didn’t call social services or try to take these kids in.”
I glanced at Dylan, who was listening intently, holding Simon protectively.
A close-up of a little boy | Source: Midjourney
“And you’re okay with this? There’s no heat in here, and where does the baby sleep? In the stroller?” I asked the boy.
He nodded slowly, a sad smile forming on his face.
“Better than foster care,” he whispered.
“Joe, what exactly do you do to help them?” I asked, softening my tone and trying to fully grasp the situation.
“I share my food, any money I get from odd jobs, and I teach Dylan. He’s a smart boy. We find books at the library or sometimes people give us books at the flea market,” Joe replied.
A man eating a sandwich | Source: Pexels
But despite their reasoning, I couldn’t shake the feeling that this was wrong. These boys needed proper care. They needed nutritious food, and I couldn’t tell what state the baby was in.
“I’m going to look around, okay, Joe?” I asked, moving away from the living room.
In the next room, I dialed the police.
They arrived quickly, social services tagging along. The children were taken away, down the hallway of the dilapidated house. Dylan’s eyes were filled with betrayal.
A man holding his head | Source: Midjourney
“I should have broken your phone,” he said.
“This is for the best,” I said, trying to make myself believe it too.
About two weeks later, my secretary buzzed in.
“Edison,” she said. “There’s a man named Joe here to see you.”
I stepped into the hallway, and there was Joe, looking cleaner and more determined than ever.
A man sitting at his desk | Source: Pexels
“I want to visit the boys, sir,” he said. “I tried, but they won’t let me because I’m homeless. I want to change my life. I’ve found a job, cleaning the library by day and cleaning at the gas station by night.”
I was taken aback.
“I want to become their guardian. With the right help, I’ll be able to do that.”
“You’re serious about this?” I asked.
A mop and a bucket in a library | Source: Midjourney
“I am,” he said. “I’ve grown to love them. It’s been horrible without them lately. The silence has been suffocating in the old house.”
I had to admit that I was moved. I didn’t expect Joe to be so caring toward the boys, especially given the circumstances.
“Why don’t you work for me?” I asked him. “We need a cleaner in the office and someone to take over maintenance here. Would you be interested? The hours will be normal, and the wages will be basic but constant.”
A person cleaning | Source: Unsplash
Joe nodded, clearly overwhelmed.
In the next few weeks, Joe proved his dedication. He devoured the law textbooks that I gave him and worked tirelessly.
With my help, he managed to meet the boys a few times, assuring Dylan that he would always come back.
“I’m just getting my life together, my boy,” he told Dylan when Joe and I went for a supervised visit, taking new clothes and school textbooks for Dylan.
A pile of clothing | Source: Midjourney
“And you’ll come back?” Dylan asked.
Joe nodded.
Months later, Joe was finally back on his feet. He managed to get all his documents in order and enrolled in college.
“I’ll pay for it,” I told him. “You just focus on juggling work and college and giving the boys a home. When this is over, we’ll get Dylan and Simon back where they belong.”
Now, Joe is on his way through college, with hopes of attending law school. He rents a little apartment and is fighting to become the boys’ guardian.
A cozy little apartment | Source: Midjourney
What would you have done?
My Stepmom Gifted Me a Funerary Urn for My 17th Birthday
As Lila was ready to celebrate her 17th birthday, she received an unexpected and creepy gift from her stepmother: a pink funerary urn. Like the type you keep ashes in? Yes, that’s the one. But that’s not all! Lila learns that her college fund was given to Monica to open her salon. What will Lila do?
Let me tell you, I’ve been sitting on this one for a few days, just trying to make sense of what went down.
I always thought my stepmom, Monica, was the worst, though not Disney villain evil. She was the kind of person who talks over you, forgets your birthday, and calls you “kiddo” when you’re practically an adult.
A smiling teenage girl | Source: Midjourney
But, what she pulled on my 17th birthday? It shattered whatever shaky truce we had.
At least, that’s what I thought. Turns out, things weren’t exactly what they seemed.
Here’s how it all went down.
My mom, Sarah, died when I was ten, and after that, it was just Dad and me. We were a solid team. The type of team that has pizza for dinner half the week, late-night movies, and this unspoken agreement that we’d always have each other’s backs.
Two boxes of pizza on a coffee table | Source: Midjourney
Then came Monica, about three years ago.
At first, she wasn’t horrible; she was just… there. Like a stray cat that never leaves, so you have no choice but to adopt it. Monica moved into our house, took over the bathroom with her fifty bottles of face serums and creams, and slowly pushed her way into my dad’s world.
Monica had big dreams of opening a hair salon, which was fine. I wasn’t against people having dreams. I had my own dreams waiting for me, but she treated me like I was just this annoying piece of furniture that came with the house.
A woman’s vanity | Source: Midjourney
Honestly, I was counting down the days until I could escape to college.
Dad had promised me since middle school that there was a college fund waiting for me.
“Don’t worry, sweet girl,” he told me. “Your mom and I put together the fund when you were five. There’s more than enough, and every year on your birthday and Christmas, I add more.”
A smiling little girl | Source: Midjourney
“Thank you, Dad,” I said. “I just want to study and make something of myself, like Mom said.”
“You only have to worry about your grades, Lila,” he said. “I’ll handle the rest.”
Naturally, I worked my butt off in school, knowing that in a few years, I’d be out of here.
A smiling man | Source: Midjourney
College was my golden ticket, and no one — not even Monica — would stand in my way.
At least, that’s what I thought.
On the morning of my 17th birthday, I came downstairs expecting the usual lukewarm effort. By lukewarm, I mean a sad card, some pancakes, and Monica forgetting my favorite syrup. Dad was at work, so it was just Mon and I.
A plate of pancakes and a card on a table | Source: Midjourney
She handed me a gift bag, which was already weird because Monica wasn’t exactly the thoughtful or sentimental type.
“Happy Birthday, kiddo,” she said, flashing one of her tight-lipped smiles.
I wasn’t expecting much, but I sure as hell wasn’t expecting this.
I reached inside the bag and pulled out… an urn.
A shocked teenage girl | Source: Midjourney
A funerary urn.
You know, the kind that people store ashes in. Cold, heavy, and, well, pink. It was pink.
I just stared at it, my brain short-circuiting.
“What the hell is this?” I asked, holding the urn like it was cursed.
A pink funerary urn | Source: Midjourney
Monica leaned against the kitchen counter, smug as ever.
“It’s symbolic,” she said as if that explained anything.
“Symbolic of what?”
Monica’s grin widened.
A smiling woman in a kitchen | Source: Midjourney
“It’s time to bury your dreams of college, kiddo. Your dad and I talked about this, and we decided to put the college fund to better use.”
“Better use?” I asked, a cold shiver running through me.
“Yep. We’re investing it in my hair salon. College is a gamble, Lila. A business? That’s something real, sweetie.”
A hair salon being renovated | Source: Midjourney
She sipped her coffee like she’d just said the most reasonable thing in the world.
I was frozen in place, trying to make sense of what I’d just heard. Had they really taken my future, everything I’d worked for, and sunk it into Monica’s salon dream?
“How could you do this?” I whispered.
Monica just smiled, a little too pleased with herself.
A shocked teenage girl | Source: Midjourney
“Life’s full of disappointments, kiddo. Better get used to it now,” she said.
Wow.
That was it. I was done. I ran upstairs, slamming the door behind me so hard that the walls shook.
I cried so hard it hurt. What else could I do? Everything I had been holding onto was gone, and the only person I thought I could count on, Dad, had let this happen.
An upset teenage girl | Source: Midjourney
My mom wanted me to get out and make something of myself. And now? It was all over.
The next few days were a blur. I didn’t speak to Monica or my dad unless I absolutely had to. Every time I looked at that stupid urn sitting on my desk, my stomach twisted.
I couldn’t even bring myself to throw it out. It felt like some kind of morbid evidence. Like proof of the betrayal I didn’t see coming.
A pink funerary urn on a desk | Source: Midjourney
At school, my friends tried to cheer me up.
“Maybe she thought it was funny, Lila,” my friend Kira said. “Like, who really knows what Monica is thinking?”
“And anyway, there’s nothing stopping you from throwing it out! Just do it! Don’t overthink it,” Mel said.
Three teenage girls | Source: Midjourney
But still, I couldn’t focus on anything other than the fact that Monica was prancing around, acting like she was the queen of the house, while I sat there with no future.
Then, a few days later, something strange happened.
When I got home from school, there was a note on my desk. Not in an envelope, just folded, with my name written in Monica’s messy handwriting.
A woman sitting on a couch | Source: Midjourney
Meet me at the salon at 6 P.M. tonight. No questions. Just trust me. -M.
I almost laughed out loud. Trust her? Yeah, right.
But something about the note gnawed at me. Maybe it was the fact that I wanted to confront her one last time, tell her exactly what I thought of her.
Against my better judgment, I decided to go.
A note on a table | Source: Midjourney
When I got to the salon, the lights were off, and the front door was unlocked.
I hesitated for a second, wondering if this was some elaborate prank. But curiosity got the best of me.
I stepped inside, and there they were. Monica and my dad, standing side by side, both grinning widely.
“Surprise!” Monica shouted, throwing her arms up like this was the happiest moment of her life.
The entrance to a salon | Source: Midjourney
I just stared at them, completely lost.
“What is this?”
Monica stepped aside, and that’s when I saw it — a shiny, brand-new sign mounted on the wall.
Dream Cuts: A Scholarship Fund in Honor of Sarah
I blinked, feeling like the room was tilting on its axis.
A hair salon | Source: Midjourney
“What… what is this?”
Monica smiled, but it wasn’t her usual smug grin. This one was softer, almost real.
“We didn’t use your college fund, kiddo. It’s all still there. The salon? It’s not just for me. It’s for you, too. For other kids like you, too.”
I couldn’t breathe.
A smiling woman | Source: Midjourney
“But then, why would you make me think otherwise?” I asked.
Monica winced, putting her hand on her head.
“Yeah, so, the urn thing… That was not my best idea. I thought it’d be motivational, like, bury the past and embrace the future. You know? But it turns out that it was just creepy.”
A woman with her hand on her head | Source: Midjourney
I stared at her, speechless.
My dad stepped forward, wrapping an arm around my shoulder.
“We’ve been planning this for months, Lila,” he said. “Your mom always wanted to help kids get to college. This salon is going to fund scholarships. For you and for others in her name.”
“The salon has been my dream, Lila,” Monica said. “But it was never going to come at your expense. This way, a great portion of all our profits in the future will go to the fund.”
A smiling man | Source: Midjourney
I didn’t know what to say.
Or what to think.
Just that I felt a warm haze take over me.
Monica laughed softly.
“I’m not a monster, darling,” she said. “I just didn’t want you to think that I was trying to take over your mom’s role.”
A smiling woman | Source: Midjourney
For the first time in a long time, I smiled.
It wasn’t perfect, but things with Monica probably never would be. But, at that moment, standing in the middle of a salon named for my mom’s dream, I realized that she wasn’t trying to ruin my life.
She was trying to build something bigger than any of us.
A smiling teenage girl | Source: Midjourney
And somehow, against all odds, it felt like a new beginning.
And yeah, I kept the urn. But I planted white peace lilies in it, thinking it would be symbolic after all. And who knows, maybe I’ll take the urn to college.
What would you have done?
Peace lilies planted into a pink funerary urn | Source: Midjourney
If you enjoyed this story, here’s another one for you |
I Transferred $24K to My Daughter for Her College Tuition, Only to Discover She Never Enrolled — What She Spent It On Made Me Pale
Caroline had been saving for her daughter’s college fund since Angela was born. But after a classmate of Angela’s reveals that Angela is not actually enrolled in college, Caroline must uncover what her daughter is doing and what she used the money for.
Children are always going to break your heart. This was something that I learned the hard way after trusting my daughter, Angela, completely.
A close-up of a smiling girl | Source: Midjourney
Since Angela was born, I have been saving for college. I needed to know that irrespective of what life threw my way, I would be able to educate my child.
“I think you can wait until she’s a little older,” my husband, Holden, said. “We can do it together.”
“You can add to her college fund later,” I said, looking at my baby girl. “But I’m going to start from next month. I wasn’t able to study, Holden. And it was because we didn’t have the opportunity to do so. Angela is going to get that opportunity.”
A smiling baby girl | Source: Midjourney
“Okay, Caroline,” my husband said. “You start it now, and I’ll add to it in a year. The house will be paid off, and I’ll be able to put that money into the fund.”
This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.
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