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| the longest night... | Started by: dynamite on Oct 21, '07 00:22 |
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*he started the climb ahead of him, following a few steps behind her. He was also lost in thought, distracted and finally feeling kind of weary.* It certainly is a name to live up to. I guess maybe it has made me want to be bigger than life. No worries, I think I can make it up seven flights of stairs. You must have some really nice place to be at the top. |
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| Reply by: dynamite at Oct 21, '07 16:39 | |
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He was certainly right. It was one of the nicer places to live in Chicago, but nestled away in a lower class neighborhood. The rent's manageable, and that's what it all comes down to; the bottom line. She pulled out her key and unlocked the double doors at the top of the stairway. They opened to a modestly luxurious parlor area and to three other doors, separating the apartment into the three sections she'd spoke about. That will be you, there on the left. I can have you a key made in the morning. She slipped out of her lopsided footwear and walked over to a shallow cabinet in between doors two and three. Pulling out two glasses, she took the crystal topper off a decanter and poised it over one glass. Drink? |
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| Reply by: LittleEvey at Oct 21, '07 16:54 | |
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That certainly is a vast improvement from where I planned on staying the night. An actual bed and no animals to chew at my toes. *He sat with an exhausted sigh into one of the chairs in the room. He looked down and saw that his shirt had small streaks of blood on it and shuddered.* I think a drink is exactly what I need right now. Thanks, again. |
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| Reply by: dynamite at Oct 21, '07 17:14 | |
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Of course she'd noticed that he looked a little roughed up when she saw him, but she didn't want to make him feel uncomfortable by mentioning it before. But as she handed him his drink, she dipped a napkin into the glass and dabbed at a little bit of the blood on his forehead. Dynamite, are you okay? |
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| Reply by: LittleEvey at Oct 21, '07 17:39 | |
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*He downed the drink in one large gulp and let out a sigh. His face looked a bit ashen. In his eyes she could see he wasn't looking at anything in that room.* Well... it has been one hell hell of a night. I was blasted out of sleep late this morning by men breaking into my house. I blacked out after that. But to save you the gruesome details... *he looked down at the floor and swallowed hard* both of my parents were murdered. I think it was mobsters... they way they acted. So cocky. I was lucky and they didn't see me hiding like a coward under my bed. I spent the next few days in a drunken stupor, god knows who I told what. Next thing I know my friend is telling me that the men who killed my family are after ME! They know I lived and saw them, and they're gonna make me disappear! *the hand holding the glass shook and his voice rose in a mix of rage and despair* To top it all off, right after I learned that news I was accosted by a women with a gun. She said she knew something about my family. Something about this old cross! She offered me protection with her family in Chicago. You see, that is why I have to get out of here. Those guys are looking for me and they're gonna kill me if they find me. Plus, I have to figure out what all this business is about with my past. That is why I'm so grateful for your help. I don't know if I could have made it without it. A few hours ago I was dreaming in my bed. Now I have no idea what is going on. Everything is so confusing. *He slumped lower in the chair, dark shadows under his bloodshot eyes. |
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| Reply by: dynamite at Oct 21, '07 17:55 | |
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She looked at the cross he'd pulled out of his pocket, and was hit with an overwhelming feeling of nostalgia and longing. Gently, she took it from his hand and held it in hers. It was warm to the touch, but it was something spiritual that made it warm her heart. I know it seem callous... I'm sorry about your parents, and your inability to grieve. Its been a horrible time for you here, and I'll do what I can to help you get settled, or get out. She touched his hand gently, but changed her tone slightly. She seemed more serious... curious even. Where did you get this cross? To justify her question, she unbuttoned the top clasp of her blouse, exposing her collarbone and a similar cross hanging around her neck. |
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| Reply by: LittleEvey at Oct 21, '07 18:10 | |
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*For a moment his exhaustion was gone, replaced by total shock. The necklace around her neck was all he could focus on. It was shiny, unlike his tarnished and beaten one. But it was certainly the exact same cross.* What? But... How? Uh. That cross has been passed down in my family for generations. Since before we left here. My father gave it to me when I was thirteen and all that he would say was that it was very important and not to lose it. In fact, I remember him... "If you lose that damn thing I'll throw you in the goddamn river!" But how could you have one too? I've never seen another one that was even close to the way this one is designed... |
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| Reply by: dynamite at Oct 21, '07 18:48 | |
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It was my grandmother's. Evey touched her neck, and the cross that pressed on her skin. She settled on her knees in front of Dynamite and placed her other hand on his knee. You haven't seen many, because not many were given out. It's a brooch. She turned it over to show a small circle where a post once was. When my grandmother was killed, those closest to her and involved in her regime were hunted, and her top aides had to mask their identities and allegiances. No longer could their brooches be work in public. Many placed them on chains and wore them over their heart. My mother gave it to me, before she died. My Grandfather gave it to her when my grandmother was assassinated. |
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| Reply by: LittleEvey at Oct 21, '07 18:56 | |
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Oh my god. I don't know what to think. Are there many of us out there? What exactly does this mean? *His mind reeling. The implications of what she had just told him began to set in.* Is this why my family was killed? Do you know who did it? *He turned the cross over in his hand, now for the first time, truly examining its every feature in detail. Every dent could be hiding it from enemy sight. Every stain, blood. *He looked at her solemnly... What do I do now? |
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| Reply by: dynamite at Oct 21, '07 19:22 | |
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I don't know. My grandmother has long since been laid to rest, and her reign wasn't carried on. My mother went to go work for my grandfather. He and my grandmother had political differences after she moved to New York to start her business there. She pondered her own cross momentarily. I haven't purposely hid mine, but its not something I necessarily wore with pride. I've never shown anyone until now. |
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| Reply by: LittleEvey at Oct 21, '07 19:31 | |
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I've always felt a special attachment to it, but I've never been sure why. This is the second time today that someone has recognized this cross. The woman I met outside the bar just before I met you. She knew. Maybe she knows something. I didn't catch her name, but she gave me a place to meet her. I think I better go check that out very soon. I am very tired though, I think maybe I should get some sleep. But do you think I could get another drink before I go? I think it will help me sleep better... |
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| Reply by: dynamite at Oct 21, '07 19:52 | |
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She nodded and rose to her feet. Absolutely. She poured another glass for him and replaced the decanter in the chest. Softly she patted his cheek and smiled. Goodnight Dynamite. Tomorrow. Evey took her leave inside the door on the right and closed it behind her. |
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| Reply by: LittleEvey at Oct 21, '07 20:00 | |
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*He relaxed in the chair. Slowly sipping this glass. Letting his mind and body unwind. *When the glass was finally done he crawled into bed & shut the lights off. Across the street two men with notepads and binoculars sat in a dark sedan. Watching. |
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| Reply by: dynamite at Oct 21, '07 20:05 | |
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*He slowly wakes, staring at the unfamiliar ceiling. Slowly the images and events of the night before creep into his conciousness. A few solitary tears flow down his face.* "No time for tears now, buddy boy." he told himself solemnly, "Got things to do..." *Sitting up, he surveyed the room. He had been too exhausted to take much notice of anything last night. The glass still sat on the table next to the chair, a small swig still remained at the bottom. The room itself was nicely furnished and clean. He noticed a picture of a rather distinguished man on the dresser.* *He quickly dressed, swallowed the drink. After a brief search of the house and attempting to be particularly loud he found he was all alone. He found a comfortable leather chair in a living room and sat down. He took out his wallet and began counting his meager earnings.* I probably have enough to get to Chicago by now. I don't think those things will ever be able to find in me in that crowd. Plus, I may meet some friends there. I hear some of my family used to live in that area, maybe I have relatives. *He couldn't forget the kindness of the lady who had helped him in his greatest time of need. He left a note on the foyer table thanking her. In case the cross meant more than it seemed he left where he planned on going and ways she might be able to find him... With that he headed towards the airport...* The black car across the street was gone |
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| Reply by: dynamite at Oct 23, '07 02:24 | |
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