Short Stories

A Blessing in Desguise

A Blessing in Disguise: a Niall Horan Civil Rights Short Story

Niall exited the building, scowling to himself. He did not want this sick job, but according to the law, it was required. Recently, the innocent lad was convicted (incorrectly is the word that only Niall and God Himself can add) for killing and maiming a family of five, which is completely false, but unfortunately, no one believed him even though he swore on his baby nephew's grave that he was not lying. His nephew ended up dying, anyway, via the killer that killed the family he was accused of killing. Instead of a lifetime sentence in prison, Niall was given the option, since no one could prove he was guilty without evidence, to help take down one of the largest and most active civil rights groups in America, one of their chapters in Washington, D.C. Niall had nothing against African Americans, the year was 1966 and he thought that America should have just gotten a move on and treat everyone fairly, but Niall always followed the law because the law always won. And because the law won, he was against African Americans.

Niall clutched his winter coat and pulled out the two hundred dollars they gave him for his plane ticket to D.C. There, he would go to the address imprinted on his note card, 431 West Neon Ave, and spy on the group to find their plans for their next violent revolt and report it to the government. Will it be easy? No, this is life-threatening, Niall thought and sighed. He knew he wasn't getting out of this.

"-Flight 32, from New Orleans to D.C. now boarding," the loud, obnoxious speaker said and Niall jumped in his seat, snapping him out of his poor-developed dreams. It seemed as if he were getting signals for him to go, an unnameable force tugging at his insides, pulling him towards the entrance of the plane. Niall shrugged mentally and shivered at the thought that he could potentially die on this mission. It wasn't like he had anything to live for, anyway, he had no wife or kids, he lost his job due to the accusation, and he had no family, because the miserable truth was that the family of five that Niall had supposedly killed and mangled, was his family. Though, it wasn't like Niall had strong feelings. He learned the hard way to keep those unnecessary sobs of sorrow internal, and frankly, this talent has helped him throughout his unfortunate life. What could possibly go wrong, Niall thought, and played with his hands while sitting in the slightly uncomfortable plane seat.

The flight was no more than nerve-racking, even though he slept two out of the three hours it took to get there. He gripped, with sweaty hands, the note card and climbed out of the taxi that transported him to the address. His stomach was doing uncalled back flips and his heart rate increased as he pulled out his rope, and threw it up on the roof multiple times before the lassoed end caught onto a pipe and climbed up to the rooftop. Niall knew he had to crawl through the ventilation system to eavesdrop on their plans. And that's what happened, for the most part, but somewhere along those lines, something caught Niall's attention.

"Zayn, they're going to kill us," a young, flawless figure with curly brown hair tied up out of his face with a bandana said, after everyone left.

"Harry, we have no choice, you're already involved and you know you can't quit now. This is illegal business, you know. Be strong, for me. For your family back in England. I know I am." Niall noticed that the young men, around Niall's age, had a noticeable British accent, while Niall had an Irish accent.

"I'm just really scared, I don't know if I could do it," Harry said, with a colorless face.

At that moment, Niall realized that he could easily escape the imprisonment that the government has put him in. How could he be so idiotic, his ankle monitor was no longer in the spot it was set on. They took it off at the airport, before he went through the cheap metal detectors. How could he not realize this earlier? He reached down to check if the locator was gone, and sure enough, he felt his soft, pale skin come in contact with this fingertips. He was free.