I Found a Boy in My Backyard—His Shocking Secret Will Leave You Speechless
I felt so sorry for him—a seven-year-old boy. I gave him a glass of water and a seat as I led him inside.
I saw the tiredness in his eyes and the dirt on his face as he drank. “Tommy, where do you live? Do you know your address?” I asked gently. He shook his head. “I was with my uncle, but he said he couldn’t take care of me anymore. He left me on the street.”
It was worse than I had imagined. Even though I had so many questions, my main concern was keeping Tommy safe. I didn’t call the police right away because I didn’t want to scare him. I told him, “We’ll figure this out. Let’s get you some food and cleaned up first.”
After a good meal and a bath, Tommy seemed more relaxed. He even managed a small smile. I called a friend who works in social services, and they promised to come over to help.
While I waited, I gently asked Tommy more questions. He shared some details about his life before being left on the streets, mentioning his mother, Lisa, and a sad story of abuse and being abandoned.
Soon, my friend arrived and spoke kindly with Tommy. After what felt like hours, she came back, her face full of determination. “Tommy needs to go somewhere safe tonight,” she said. “I’ll set him up in temporary foster care and start searching for his family.” She added, “But we need to handle this carefully.”
I nodded, feeling both relieved and sad. Tommy had already found a place in my heart, but I knew he had to leave. Over the next few days, I stayed in touch with my friend and got updates. They found Lisa, his mother, who had been searching for him for a long time. She had overcome her own struggles and was ready to bring him home.
The reunion was emotional. I cried as I watched Tommy and his mother hug each other tightly. Lisa thanked me, and we exchanged contact information to stay in touch. In the following months, Lisa kept me updated. She was rebuilding her life, and Tommy was thriving.
One sunny afternoon, Lisa called and invited me to Tommy’s birthday party. When I arrived, Tommy greeted me with a huge smile. Lisa hugged me again, expressing her gratitude. The day was filled with laughter and celebration. As I watched Tommy playing with his friends, I felt a deep sense of peace and happiness. What began as a chance encounter had turned into a life-changing experience for Tommy, Lisa, and me.
A POOR BOY SAVED A RICH MAN’S LIFE—THE NEXT DAY, HE AND HIS ILL MOTHER FOUND A BAG SENT BY THAT SAME MAN ON THEIR PORCH.
The dust of the country road swirled around Martin’s worn sandals as he trudged home, his stomach growling with the familiar pangs of hunger. He was a wisp of a boy, barely ten years old, with eyes that held the weight of too many hardships. His mother, frail and perpetually ill, relied on him for everything, from gathering firewood to earning meager coins from odd jobs.
As he rounded a bend, a sleek, black automobile roared past, kicking up a cloud of dust that stung his eyes. He coughed, waving his hand to clear the air, and then noticed the car had stopped further down the road. It was angled awkwardly, half on the pavement, half in the ditch. A figure slumped inside.
Curiosity piqued, Martin ran towards the car. Inside, a man, dressed in fine clothes, was choking, his face turning an alarming shade of purple. He was clutching his throat, his eyes wide with panic. Martin recognized him; it was Sylvester Thorne, the wealthy landowner whose grand estate loomed over their humble village.
Without hesitation, Martin grabbed a rock from the roadside and smashed the car window. Glass shattered everywhere as he reached in to unlock the door. “Stand back!” he shouted, pulling Sylvester out onto the pavement.
Sylvester was gasping, his hands still clutching his throat. Martin knew he had to act quickly. He remembered a trick he’d seen his father use once, a desperate measure. With all his might, Martin delivered several sharp blows to Sylvester’s back. Suddenly, a chunk of apple flew from Sylvester’s mouth, and he gasped for air, his lungs finally filling with air.
The rich man looked at the boy with tears in his eyes and kept thanking him for saving his life, his voice hoarse. “You… you saved my life, boy. I… I owe you everything.”
Martin, flustered by the man’s gratitude, simply nodded. “Just glad you’re alright, sir.” And then, he turned and walked away, his stomach still growling, his mind already turning to the task of finding something for his mother to eat.
The next morning, Martin was jolted awake by his sister, Lily’s, excited screams. “Marty! Marty! Come quick!”
He rushed outside, his mother calling after them in confusion, her voice weak but laced with concern. There, on their doorstep, sat a large, brown bag. It was tied with a silken ribbon, a stark contrast to the rough, worn wood of their porch.
Lily, her eyes wide with wonder, tugged at the ribbon. Martin cautiously untied it, and the contents spilled out: a loaf of fresh bread, a basket of plump, red apples, a jar of honey, and a small pouch filled with coins. At the bottom of the bag, a folded note lay nestled amongst the food.
Martin unfolded it, his eyes scanning the elegant script. “To Martin, for your bravery and kindness. From Sylvester Thorne.”
His mother, her face etched with a mixture of relief and astonishment, reached for the bread, her fingers trembling. “It’s from Mr. Thorne,” Martin said, his voice hushed. “He remembered.”
The food was a godsend. They hadn’t had a proper meal in days. The coins, though few, were enough to buy medicine for his mother and some seeds for their small garden. But it was more than just the material goods. It was the knowledge that someone, especially someone as powerful as Sylvester Thorne, had seen their plight and cared.
News of Martin’s heroism spread through the village like wildfire. People who had once turned a blind eye to their poverty now offered smiles and words of encouragement. Even the gruff baker, who had always refused them credit, gave them a warm loaf of bread and a wink.
Sylvester Thorne, true to his word, didn’t forget Martin. He visited their small cottage, his presence filling the cramped space with an air of grandeur. He spoke to Martin’s mother, his voice gentle and respectful. He offered to pay for her medical treatment and to send Martin to school.
Martin, overwhelmed by the man’s generosity, looked at his mother, her eyes shining with hope. She nodded, her lips forming a silent “yes.”
Life changed for Martin and his family. His mother’s health improved, and he excelled in school, his sharp mind eager to learn. He never forgot the day he saved Sylvester Thorne, nor the kindness that followed. He understood that even in the midst of hardship, a single act of courage and compassion could change everything. And Sylvester Thorne, in return, learned that true wealth wasn’t measured in possessions, but in the lives he touched and the gratitude he received.
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