Tales of a Neverland Lost Girl

Gold Covered in Blood

The skyline of the city of Chicago is covered in a thick grey fog. The tops of skyscrapers are barely visible and the usual rumbling sounds of the morning bustle are at their peak. The congested sidewalk left little elbow room for the residents on their commute. City folk walk hastily down the street, hurrying to their destination. Business men stride to their morning meetings, house maids scamper to their clients apartments and children try and beat the bell on the way to school. It was a busy Monday morning in the Spring of 1924; everyone had their place to be.

In the small cove of a street corner, in front of Barney's Cafe, there stands a boy, about twelve, trying to sell newspapers to the passing populous. The boy is a dusty looking lad with a black cap keeping his greasy, blonde hair out of his eyes. His clothes were torn and brown and his lack of shoes suggested he was of no money.

"Extra! Extra! Billionaire Richard Andrew, murdered. Extra! Extra! Andrew killed by one of his party guests!" The young man screamed in the people's ears.

The people looked at the paper boy with disgust and were annoyed by his constant badgering. Everyday the boy would stand on the corner, blocking the path, and blaring the morning news in their faces. One man stopped in front of him.

"Why don't ya shut the hell up, boy?!" The man kicked his stack of papers into the street and walked away in a huff. The boy was quick to gather his papers and keep shouting.

In the café, a man, in his early forties, was sitting drinking black coffee and smoking a cigar. He was the only one who seemed to care what the paper boy was saying. He paid close attention and hung onto the boy's words. He watched the paper boy through the glass and caught a glimpse at the picture in the paper. It was Mr. Andrew lying on his stomach with blood all around him. In the back a safe is opened but there's nothing in it.

The man nods his head and studies the paper. He takes another sip of his black coffee and lets his dark mustache brush against the rim of the mug. He was due for a shave and needed a trim around his ears. Besides his growing hair, the man looked very professional. His suit and tie were top of the line, his shoes had a fresh coat of polish and the man's cologne could grab a few women into his gaze. As a younger lad, he was quite the looker and was a bit too popular with the local dames. But since his bachelor days, he'd settled down and let the wrinkles and stress of marriage and parenthood torture his once heartbreaking face.

"Excuse me, sir. Is there anything else you need?" The waiter asked.

The older man passed over his question and continued to look at the paper boy who was still babbling to the crowd. The man inhaled his cigar and looked up at the waiter.

"You hear that, young man?" He pointed to the boy out the window. "That is a headline right there."

The waiter glanced out at the boy. He turned back to the man with his eyebrows knit together in confusion. The man sighed and waved him off.

"The check, please. But add another cigar."

The waiter nodded and walked away. The man at the table took his last sips and pulled out his pocket watch. The gold watch was the size of a chocolate chip cookie with a long, gold chain attached. The hands of the clock say seven-thirty. On the face of the watch is two letters, parallel to each other. The letter on the left is R and the letter on the left is A. The man chuckles to himself.

"The papers do say killed and robbed," the man smirked and put the watch back in his pocket.

-

Something short and sweet...it sounds like the scene to an old Italian Mafia movie, no? I think so. I'm obsessed with The Godfather, Good Fellas, The Sopranos and any other mafia/gangster type movie. I just have a weird thing for it, you know?

love you and sleep well, my darlings

xoxo

-m