Six Little Lullabies

Missing

(A/n: Please enjoy! I apologize for any spelling errors or grammatical mistakes.)

I have been living in London for about 2 months now, and I still haven't explored everything this wonderous city had to offer.

However I became close with a few different people;

There was Scott, the nice waiter from the restaurant nearby. He was basically a gentle giant.

Then there was Mrs. Winston, a sweet old lady, who worked at the bakery.
She welcomed me to the city with open arms, and always tells me stories from when she was young.

Next was Sally. A nice girl, just a few years younger than me, who worked part-time at the clothing-store. She is a very hard-working girl, juggling both university and a part-time job as well as family life at home.

Mr. Sanders, who delivered the papers in my street every morning. A nice man in his early 30s and a tried but friendly attitude.

And of course, the little boy; Jack.
He still did not talk to me and I started to think that he might be mute.
He seemed to be happy whenever we met, but I noticed that no one else seemed to acknowledge the boy and no parents was ever with him.

At the time, I didn't think much of it, and instead talked with him whenever I could find some time.
He sometimes walked with me to my work-place; the newspaper-company-building.

Yes, I got a job as a journalist, and I loved it. I've always been fascinated by all the stories, that the papers told and wanted to become the one to find them and put them out for the world to read.
Which is exactly what I was doing one day.

I finished typing an article about the history of one of the Colleges from Oxford University, for the cultural part of the local newspaper, and stretched.
Sitting at a desk for most of the day is more exhausting than it sounds.
After I had finished packing up, and bid my co-workers good-bye, I left the building and headed down the leaf-covered sidewalk, next to the small park, across from my office.
Like usual, I went towards my neighbourhood, while passing the restaurant, the clothing-shop and the orphanage.

For some reason, the orphanage had always had an eerie aura to it...
But I never thought to much about it. I may just have read one too many horror novels.
I entered the restaurant and was greeted by Scott.

"Ah, Lassie! I thought it was about time for you to come here!"
I smiled at him and answered: "I wouldn't miss having dinner at my favorite restaurant, now would I?"
Scott chuckled and led me to a table.
"The usual?" He asked and I nodded. "Please."

When Scott returned with my order, he asked, quietly: "Have you heared the rumors?"
That caught my attention. "What rumors?" I asked.
"About the missing girl. A little lassie was reported missing, just last night. I thought you, being a journalist would know."
I shook my head. "I am not responsible for those articles..."
Scott nodded. "I see. I just wanted to know if you were to know, since you work for the papers, but I guess not."
"No, I'm sorry, Scott. I don't know anything. But I will keep my eyes open."
He nodded and smiled a sad smile. "We all will. Enjoy your food, lassie."
With that he got up and made his was back into the kitchen.

I tried to eat, but I had lost my appetite. Something about what Scott had told me, didn't sit well with me.
"A child going missing was a big thing. Why was nobody talking about it at work...?" I thought to myself.
While brooding about this rumor, I glanced out the window and saw two people stick a piece of paper to one of the phone-poles.

I abandoned my food and went outside to take a closer look. It was just as I thought; a Missing poster:

MISSING

NAME: Elizabeth Cooper
AGE: 7
APPEARANCE: 1.26 m tall; black, curly hair; light brown eyes
CLOTHES: Last seen with a pastel blue, long sleeved dress, white tights and black shoes
SPEACIAL FEATURES: Freckles, small scar at the back of her right hand

IF YOU HAVE SEEN THIS CHILD OR HAVE ANY INFORMATION CONTACT THE POLICE IMMEDIATELY!

On the poster, there was also a monochrome photo of the missing girl.

"I will look for her, as much as I can." I thought determinedly and turned around, to take a late-night walk around the neighborhood, to clear my head.

When I got home, I turned on the TV and watched the news. Even as a journalist, one needs to get a short summary, of what is happening in the world.
When the chairman had finished with the world's news, he started talking about the local news:

"And now for our hometown news.
Our mayor has declared a new project, Project CleanCapital, to clean up our lovely city of London. Participants do not have sign up, but there is a possibility for schools to participate in a contest ..."

I started to drown out his voice, waiting for the next topic to be presented. I was waiting for some news about the missing girl. But soon, after two more topics, the camera went over to his colleague, who was beginning to present the weather-forecast.

"That is weird... no newsflash about the little girl...? Not a single word?"
I thought. This whole thing did not sit well with me. The life of a child was on the line and all that was being done is hang up a few posters.

I turned off the TV, making a mental note to watch them again tomorrow, in hopes to hear about her. When I went to bed I couldn't help but stare at the ceiling for a while, deep in thought.
Slowly, but surely, my eyes got droopy and I gave in to the powerful wave of sleep, that was overcoming me.

To this day, I could've sworn I heard a very quiet voice sing and old skip-rope-rhyme:

'Lizzy Borden took an ax...'

Sleep overcame me and I brushed it off as my tired imagination.