Selling a Story (Spot Conlon Fanfic)

Welcome to Brooklyn

Please refer to the top photos before reading every chapter. Not that all of them are relevant, I just like them.

Carly's POV

I get my usual hundred papes from 'hattan and look around for a good spot. I usually stay in Queens but sales there are slow. Plus, I like movin' around to different selling spots.

As soon as I see the Brooklyn bridge I start running. I've sold about ten papes just while traveling. Why am I running? I really have no idea. I just love feeling the wind in my face as I run through the streets. I stop on one of the main streets in Brooklyn and start calling out some headlines that will draw people in.

"Nude corpse found after trolly strike rally!... Ellis Island attacked by flock of seagulls! Thousands in property damage!"

I guy hands me a dime and I give him a paper. At the same time I snatched his wallet for later. I can do that a million times and they never see it coming. Many more people hand me money and... don't hand me money. As the sun starts setting I head to the docks for some fresh air and good view.

"Eyo! Boy! You want some dinna'?"

My head spins to find a nice looking street vender. He has that old smile that makes you wanna be his best friend. I walk over to the man selling food from his cart.

"How much?"

"Three cents a piece."

"'Ight. Your freshest sandwich please."

I hand him a dime and get my sandwich then walk over to the dock. The sun is at that perfect level where I can look at the sky and my eyes won't hurt. I watch it for a bit until I can't see the sun no more. The pink horizon tells me it's still there but I don't believe it. When the sun is finally gone I look down at my feet. The toe of my shoe playing with the groves of the wood planks. My legs get tired from a days work. I wrap up the last half of my sandwich up in a newspaper from yestaday and stuff it in my bag. I grab my lucky baseball bat in my hand and start to head off the dock. It getting dark fast and I want to get home before it's completely dark.

"What do we got he-ya? Ay Wiz, what's this look like to ya?"

I look over to see three guys approaching me. By their clothes and lack of vocabulary, such as myself, I can tell they be newsies.

"Looks like a scabba' on Brooklyn territory."

They walk up to me so I can see them better. It's three guys. The one callin' names is tall and blonde with his shorter friend which is the first guy who called out. And the last boy is shortest, probably no more than 12 years.

"Ay! Who you callin' scabba? I'se a newsie."

"Dat so? What borough ya from?"

The one with piercing blue eyes, who I assume is their leader steps forward making me step back slightly.

"No borough. I go whereva!"

My body stands tall, hoping to assert dominance. They don't seem to like this very much. The boys all look at each other then back at me with a toothy grin.

"You'se a lone wolf, aw ya?" He leans in close and whispers in my ear, "Well get out of my city, pretty boy."

I stand tall and I can tell he's thinking on what to do. But I ain't budging for no ones. I learned that you either stand up or you lose either way. Better get beat up and gain his respect then be a coward.

"I'se go where I wants to!"

I walk forward only to be shoved back by him. On instinct I pull my bat up ready to strike only to be knocked down myself. The boy took his cane and hit me square in the jaw with it. My knee rests on the rotting wood of the deck as I stop my head from spinning. His cane comes down on my back making me fully collapse on the wood. I taste blood and spit on the ground before looking back at his smug face and stand up. My legs are shaking and my head is spinning but I hold my ground in front of him. I'm only a few inches shorter than him but he's definitely more muscular than I am. I'm a twig. He grins at me with his head pointed slightly up.

"Nice shina', Pretty Boy! You've been struck by the King of Brooklyn."

I start to talk back when something, or rather someone catches my eye. Snyder wanders out of a bar about 10 yards away, just off the pier, and we lock eye contact. My eyes go wide and I glance from the King to Snyder and back. The newsies' faces, once glowering, are now confused. On cue I start running. Snyder runs after me, but what much can the fat man do? I run all the way to the Brooklyn bridge before walking the rest of the way. My lungs burn with the need for oxygen. Before he's out of sight I hear him yelling for me.

"I'll get you Johnson! You can't hide forever!"

I chuckle at myself knowing he won't get me any time soon. Right after I gasp slightly with my lungs still not wanting to work. It always brings me pleasure seeing the overweight man chase after me. I soon get back to my small abode back in Manhattan. When I was exploring one day I came across an old building. Their vacant attic serves as a perfect house. I don't pay rent, and no one knows.

I climb up the fire escape and into the window to see my room just how I left it. It also has a connected bathroom which I think was used at one point for servants. No bath but I got a workin' toilet and a sink which is better than most people like me got.

I sit on my bed ready to put my bat away when I notice something different about it. This ain't a bat at all... it's the guys cane. I must've grabbed it instead of my bat when I went to run. That's going to be a pain to get back. My hands slide over the golden end of his pimp cane. It's worn down over time with scrapes and chips. I set the smooth, wooden cane next to my bed. Emptying out my satchel, I find all my items from the day. In order of when I got them: roll from the nuns, two quarters I stole from a guy, a pocket watch, a postcard of the beach, a wallet which had one dollar but the rest being useless, a jar of honey I stole from a shop, my sandwich, and of right now... the King of Brooklyn's cane.

I keep the cane in my usual bat spot. Next on my to-do list is put up the postcard. I've been collecting photos and postcards for a while now. All of them are tacked to my wall. The money goes in my money jar and I set the wallet and pocket watch in the selling jar. The honey went in my cabinet along with my sandwich but I ate my roll. I'm still quite hungry. After washing my face I get to bed.

Word count: 1237

Please comment any typos you see so I can fix them. Thanks!

Update:

Omg we just hit 300 reads that's amazing!! Please vote if you like the story and don't hesitate to comment on any spelling or grammar mistakes you see! My Gabriel Damon fanfic is up now! And my newest fanfiction books I'm writing (comment if I should post them) are:

-Draco Malfoy
-Hunger Games [(Cato) published]
-Bucky Barnes
-Divergent (Eric)