Ragged Ascent T h a n o s K a l a m i d a s Thanos Kalamidas ovi ebooks are available in ovi/ovi eBookshelves pages and they are for free. if somebody tries to sell you an ovi book please contact us immediately. For details, contact: ovimagazine@yahoo.com no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise), without the prior permission of the writer or the above publisher of this book An Ovi eBooks Publication 2025 ovi eBookPublications - all material is copyright of the ovi eBooks Publications & the writer C Ragged Ascent Ragged Ascent Thanos Kalamidas Thanos Kalamidas An Ovi eBooks Publication 2025 ovi eBookPublications - all material is copyright of the ovi eBooks Publications & the writer C Ragged Ascent T he fog hung low over the cobbled streets of Spindlewick, thick and unrelenting, as if God himself had turned away from the alleyways below. At its heart, a boy no older than seventeen trudged onward, hands buried deep into a fraying coat, shoulders hunched beneath the heavy damp of poverty. His name was Nathaniel “Nate” Grimshaw, and he had not tasted a full meal in three days. The city had no care for such trivialities as hunger, nor for the plaintive echoes of stomachs that sang louder than the church bells. In Spindlewick, if you could not afford to buy a crust, you were expected to disappear into the smog and die quietly behind a soot-covered brick wall, so as not to trouble the con- science of the well-fed. Thanos Kalamidas * * * * * * “Out the way, gutter rat!” shouted a man in fine boots, shoving Nate aside as he stepped from his pol- ished carriage. Nate stumbled back and barely caught his footing. “Beg pardon, sir,” he muttered, tugging the brim of his battered cap in a mock salute. The man grunted and strode off into Montfort’s Grand Bank, unaware that Nate’s eyes were still fixed upon him, not in awe, but in calculation. “He walks like the coins in his pocket have a rhythm,” Nate whispered to himself. “Could learn a beat from that one.” He turned down the next alley, where the gas lamps barely lit the filth. This was home. Or at least, it had been since his mum passed and the landlord declared that unpaid rent was a sin more grievous than death itself. Inside a broken shack behind an abandoned bak- ery, his mate Tomas waited, shivering by a rusted stove that hadn’t seen fire in years. Ragged Ascent “Find anything?” Tomas asked, his voice hoarse. “Only contempt,” Nate said. “But I reckon I’ve found a plan.” * * * * * * That night, Nate told Tomas of the safe behind the banker’s desk, of the silver key he had seen hanging from the man’s waist, glinting like a promise. Tomas paled. “We’re not thieves.” “We’re not anything ,” Nate said. “We scrape, we starve, and when we die, not even a priest’ll remem- ber our names. I’d rather be a thief than a ghost.” “Even if we’re caught?” “Then at least we’ll go down having tried.” * * * * * * The plan was madness, a ghost of a scheme built on desperation but in a world where every door had been slammed shut, madness felt like the only key they could forge. Thanos Kalamidas The two boys spent a week watching Montfort’s Bank. Nate memorized the patterns: the banker ar- rived at the stroke of nine, left at five; the guard at the west entrance smoked a pipe at exactly 11:15; the cleaning woman whistled the same tune each day as she swept the lobby. “Old sailors called that the Devil’s Waltz,” Tomas muttered one morning. “Bad omen, that song.” “Then let the Devil dance,” Nate said. * * * * * * The night of the heist, rain lashed the rooftops like angry lashes from the sky itself. Tomas and Nate slipped through the rear window Nate had secretly unlatched earlier that day, their feet soaked, their hearts thundering like war drums. Inside, the bank was silent, the kind of silence that swelled in the ears until even breath felt treacherous. Nate crept past the counters, avoiding the creak- ing boards. Tomas followed, holding a candle stub. When they reached the office door, Nate produced a bent fork and a sliver of metal filed from a spoon. Ragged Ascent “I’m not sure this will work,” Tomas whispered. “Then say a prayer for improvisation,” Nate replied. The lock gave way with a clack that might as well have been a gunshot. Inside, the office was lined with ledgers fat with other men’s fortunes. The safe stood behind a false painting, just like Nate had guessed. He reached for the bundle he had hidden in his coat: twine, a tin of powder scavenged from discard- ed fireworks, and a match wrapped in oilskin. “Back up,” he told Tomas. “Far back.” He struck the match. The flame hissed and caught. * * * * * * The explosion was modest but enough to tear the safe open and send shreds of parchment fluttering like startled birds. Coins, notes, and velvet pouches spilled out. Nate filled his sack with trembling hands. But they had no time to admire the spoils. A crash, loud and certain, echoed from the foyer. Thanos Kalamidas “Who’s there?” a voice barked. “Run!” Nate yelled. They bolted, ducking through shadows, the sack of coin thudding against Nate’s back like a drum of guilt. The guard was faster. He fired. A shot rang out. Tomas fell. Nate turned back. “TOM!” Tomas clutched his side, blood leaking between his fingers. “Don’t stop!” he gasped. “Go! GO!” But Nate didn’t. He hoisted his friend onto his shoulders and ran down alleys slick with grime, through streets where no help awaited, until he col- lapsed behind the bakery, gasping and weeping. Tomas died at dawn. * * * * * * Weeks passed. Nate vanished. The newspapers raged about the “Gutter Thieves of Spindlewick.” The banker replaced his safe. The city carried on. Ragged Ascent But a whisper began to circulate. In the poor quar- ters, debts were being paid by unseen hands. Chil- dren found coins under bread crusts. An old wom- an received enough to fix her roof. A one-eyed beg- gar wept when a letter arrived with enough for new shoes. And one night, in the house of a certain banker, a letter was found pinned to his study door: You never saw us. You never cared. But we saw ev- erything. And we still do. – The Ghosts of Spindlewick * * * * * * Years later, in a village far from the city’s grime, a school opened for orphaned boys. Its founder was a man with a limp and storm-coloured eyes. He told stories to the children, of lost friends, of firelit nights, of choices made in the dark. He always ended with the same words: “Poverty steals more than coin. It steals time, dreams, and names. But we can steal them back, one heart at a time.” Thanos Kalamidas And sometimes, if the rain fell just right, the village children swore they could hear a voice in the wind, Tomas, laughing still. THE END. Ragged Ascent Ragged Ascent Thanos Kalamidas Ovi eBook Publishing 2025 Ovi magazine Design: Thanos ovi ebooks are available in ovi/ovi eBookshelves pages and they are for free. if somebody tries to sell you an ovi book please contact us immediately. For details, contact: ovimagazine@yahoo.com no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise), without the prior permission of the writer or the above publisher of this book An Ovi eBooks Publication 2025 ovi eBookPublications - all material is copyright of the ovi eBooks Publications & the writer C Thanos Kalamidas T h a n o s K a l a m i d a s Thanos Kalamidas , a multipublished writer, cartoonist and illustrator; born and grew up in a picturesque neighbourhood on the moun- tainside of hymettus in athens, Greece. Then his life took him to Berlin, Germany and to london, UK for studies. after a brief stay in Yorkshire he moved his life to Paris, France while working in Tokyo, Japan and in Cape Town, south africa. in the last 25 years he became a permanent scandinavian resident and recently, in his glorious sixth de- cade, he moved to a scenic village in the Växjö area.