I woke up this morning and Alexander was nowhere to be found. He must have never come home last night because it was the weekend and there was no way he would have even woke up if he had been home.
I opened up the fridge to see a curious looking note left in what seemed to be in the form of chicken scratch. It was lodged behind the fruit which had been seriously tampered with, for it was no longer in the neat assortment I had packed it in when I put it into the fridge.
I was pretty worried about Alexander all day. I knew that black van wasn't right... something was peculiar about the whole situation... I just couldn't put my finger on it.
The note that was left seemed to be from a kind person... only a man could have handwriting as poor as this... this guy seemed to have been stealing my food for some time now... I didn't know what to make of it. A part of me was extremely uneasy at the fact that a homeless man had been in my house while I had been in it sleeping, but if he was only taking food... and nothing valuable, what is the harm. Also, I rather have a homeless man take my food than constantly have to prepare it for Alexander. Kid ate like a fat pig.
I spent the day trying to call different people that might have seen Alexander. His cell phone was off. I laid on my bed around noon, wondering what could have happened. Sure the kid was a nuisance but he was my grandson, I loved him.
I woke up at 4 pm, never meaning to go to sleep in the first place. I was so old I felt like I could sleep at any time, even if it were fifteen minutes after I had woke up in the morning. I looked outside and saw the black van screech in front of Washington Heights. The van looked in considerably terrible condition compared to what I had seen the night before. I could hardly see anymore... I was basically blind, but it seemed as though there were a bunch of holes on the side of it, like from a bullet or something... "couldn't be," I thought.
The van unloaded a person out of the side. The person staggered out, looking drunk or hurt I couldn't figure out which. The black van sped off and was followed by a truck... an ice cream truck.
The person who had just staggered out of the black van, stumbled over to the ice cream truck. I then realized who the person was. It was Alexander. It made sense, he had just entered the black van the night before. I saw Alexander exchange some gestures with the person in the ice cream truck. He handed the vendor something, I couldn't see what it was, and in return was given a Klondike Bar.
Alexander busted in the door of the penthouse with the ice cream in hand.
"What happened to you Alexander!?" I yelled in fright. He was covered in blood and from his face you could barely tell it was him.
"I got you an ice cream Grandma Pearl," he said, desperately, handing me the ice cream but coming up short as he fell to the ground with a thud.
He wasn't dead. He couldn't be because he was still breathing.. but he wasn't responding to anything. I called Oscar because I thought he would know what to do in a situation like this.
Oscar came into the door and lifted Alexander up and put him on the couch. For some reason, Oscar knew to empty Alexander's pockets out. There was nothing in it besides a note, covered in even worse handwriting than the note from the fridge.
"Next time, he'll be dead. Keep him inside Granny."
The note was chilling. I could smell death in the air even. But it was a fierce smell, not a death of old-age or depression like the kind I longed for.
"What happened Alexander, do you remember anything," Oscar said, non-chalantly almost.
Alexander fought to get the words out, but I could barely understand.
"G-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g.... GEORGE!" He finally yelled out.
"George? George who?!" Oscar suddenly yelled.
"George, George, George, Jefferson..." Alexander said as he tailed off into what seemed to be a coma.
"I knew it. Grandma Pearl, call an ambulance, Alexander needs to be treated at a hospital," Oscar advised.
Oscar stormed out of the apartment leaving me alone with my vegetable grandson. I looked at him in worry, yet also envy. Why couldn't they take me. I wanted to go.
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Oscar
As little Alexander was carted slowly through the apartment door, Grandma Pearl scurried behind, wiping flecks of blood from his clothes, her clothes, her floor. The kid would be fine, Oscar knew that, but he hated to see the innocent put to harm. "Not in this town. Not in my town."
"What was that Oscar?" Grandma Pearl said.
"Nothing Pearl, it's gonna be alright. You get some sleep."
He thought about this Jefferson guy for a little while longer. His pounded down each step of Washington's ratty stairway. He repeated the name. With each syllable, his huge body jolted, blood pounding and squeezing through his exhausted veins. This was the same George who had crashed through is ceiling weeks ago... while swordfighting no less. The same George who had curiously scoped out the butcher shop a while back. Was he not a policeman? Who knows.
Oscar took a few deep breaths as the cool air hit his face. he needed to calm down and look at this situation from a neutral standpoint. As he waited to cross at the curb, an ice cream truck blew by, knocking his large frame back a step, the piercing jingle reverberating in his head. Alex was a good kid, somewhere in there. He just did some incredibly stupid things, mean things, dumb things. Alright the kid was an asshole. But he was a kid no less. Nothing he did could have deserved physical retribution from a grown man. Jefferson would need to be handled.
He knocked twice. Three times. He reached for a fourth, his blood pulsing, but the door swung open. There stood Jefferson. He looked surprisingly clean. Suit, tie, suede shoes. This guy was stunting.
"Buddy."
"Dude, what do you want, man." Jefferson's voice had a slight quiver.
"Look, I don't usually do this, but --" Oscar's burly arm lurched forward, grabbing Jefferson's necktie. He pulled the man's face up towards his. "A little boy named Alexander came home bleeding today. He said one word. Your name. Explain."
Leaves floated to the ground and the wind swirled among the branches. Night was beginning to fall. Across town, Oscars boys ran his underground gambling empire. Here, he settled his own business. He was fair, just, responsible. He was only looking out for his customers.
Though I Walk Through the Valley of the Shadow of death...
The dawn broke grey and cold, but Fil took no notice. In fact, today was the happiest day of his life. He might be going to live with Grandma Pearl. It was just a might. He didn’t even know if she had found his note, but this was the first thing he had had to hope for in…ever. Waking up in the morning and being able to lounge in bed. Wow! A bed! He’d never had one of those. And he could go to school, and maybe get a job. Most importantly though, he could give back all of the things he’d “borrowed”. So he woke with these thoughts did not notice the chill wind and darkening sky.
Cheerfully, he scurried down his tree and headed to the underpass to get the day’s newspapers He reached the crossing as two cars came up, turning left and right. Fil went on straight, and…what was this? Where were his newspapers? He looked all around, but nothing was in front of him wherever he looked. Fil sat down and pondered for a long while. Finally though, he thought of two things. It could just be a mistake. They’ll probly just bring them tomorrow. And what does it matter anyway. I might not even be getting papers much longer. Wait! What if Grandma Pearl was the one leaving the newspapers, and now that she read my note, she knows there’s no point in me doing this anymore! He thought about this idea, and decided that it was stupid, but there were other reasons, so he got up and plodded back to town. It was nice not to carry those heavy words. Those grey papers were his past. He decided he would even throw away the left over papers he kept in his tree. Fil reached the apartment building and stopped, deciding what he would do today. He wanted to go see Grandma Pearl, but he didn’t want to rush her. Fil decided he would just meander up and down the street. He had never done that before. Just stood out in the open and didn’t care about anyone seeing him. He had never done a lot of things before. But today, today he was going to live a new life. Where was everyone? He wanted to give someone a big grin and a hearty hello. Why would people not be out on a gorgeous day like this? Oh, wait. There’s Mrs. Flogsbottom-head-bent, hurrying to the store. Peculiar woman.
“Hey there Mrs. Flogsbottom! Lovely weather!” he said as he gave her a big smile and a wave. She looked up with an expression of total incredulity, then looked at the sky.
Well, I guess it’s true that I never talk to anyone. Quite a shame, as everyone in this town seems so pleasant. I’ve wasted part of my youth, but I’m young. I have so much more to look foreword to. It’s ok. Fil wandered up and down the street for hours, taking it all in. Oscar’s meat place. Lovely man. Taxidermy shop. A little strange, but she did seem to love animals. The local grocery store. Fil looked at the place with a feeling of relief. In the future, he could go in there and get whatever he wanted, knowing he had a pocket full of money. Last of all, he went to the bus stop. The bus had come and long gone. He stood standing there for a long while. This single place could take him anywhere. There were so many places he could have gone. Could have, maybe should have, but there was only one place he wanted to go now.
The day began to wane, so he headed back to his tree for the night, taking one last look at today, because tomorrow, everything would change. Fil was so excited about the idea of something different, that he barely even felt the raindrops starting to fall onto his face. As he reached the platform of his tree, the wind picked up swiftly. His platform was more than three-fourths up the tree, and it started rocking back and forth. Usually during a storm, Fil stayed on the ground and found a place to sleep, but he simply had not noticed the weather on account of his thoughts. However, he had weathered storms before after all, so he hunkered down in his bed pile, pulling his covers and all of his belongings tightly around him.
As the night wore on, the storm increased its fury. The tree swayed violently, as rain, sleet, and chunks of ice beat ferociously against Fil’s thatched, make-shift roof. Terrified, Fil hugged the floorboards., occasionally having one peal up from beneath him and whirl away with the howling wind. Fil hung on for dear life as the storm raged on around him. All thoughts of anything except survival were driven from his mind. Soaked, battered, starving, and exhausted, Fil did not know how much more he could take. Soon the storm would win, and Fil did not know what would happen. The whirlwind night dragged on for years with periodic lightening strikes to mark the seconds, it seemed, but finally the rain started to abate, and the wind died down. Dawn approached. Fil’s strong, solid oak, had proved its worth. Its roots ran deep, and it had outlasted the storm, and was sure to outlast many, many more. This was his home, his life. He and his tree would continue together. With a relieved sigh, Fil started climbing down the tree for his feet to meet the hard, solid earth. The last of the rain was drizzling away, taking Fil’s fears with it. He was about thirty feet down from his platform, though, when the storm decided to give one last parting shot. The sky boomed and a mighty lightening bolt struck the very limb on which Fil stood. The branch gave a resounding crack, and snapped from the tree, gathering speed toward the ground, and taking Fil with it. Fil gave a mighty wail as he flung out his arms, grasping desperately at the leaves and twigs, trying to break his fall. An eternity passed by as he fell, and finally, he crashed to the ground, as the branch on which he had a second before been standing, crashed down on top of him.
Fil blacked out.
He woke on his back, with a heavy weight pressing on his chest, yet strangely, he felt nothing. His body felt light and warm, as his fingers soaked up the wetness on the ground around him. Rain from the storm, he thought. Fil looked up and saw the remains of his tree house far above. Something grey was floating down through the sky.
I did good. It’s an angel come.
Pearl saw the newspaper page resting softly across his tiny chest. It was the job ads. She picked it up and read the first description, circled with red sharpie.
Help wanted: flying instructor.
The warming sun broke over Washington Heights. It was going to be a gorgeous day.
The sun had not yet bloomed when Elizabeth left her apartment. She hadn't slept well since she'd received the letter. What would have appeared gratifying to most, sat crumpled on the floor beside the wall at present. It was a stain of her past that needed to go. As Elizabeth reached for the piece of parchment, it all came rushing back — the anxiety, the anger, the remorse, the fear, the love, the despair, and the hope. A tear rolled down her cheek as she went out the door. A tear for what she could not tell. Only the need for fresh air and a stroll was known. After a single glance out the window, her plan was shattered. A thunderstorm was raging outside, blowing the trees like mere wheat stalks in the wind. Elizabeth turned back to grab a sweatshirt before she headed for the stairs. It was almost meditative now — the climb down the stairs. She'd learned to appreciate it, especially when it was raining, and slow down. With each step it was as if she was falling into serenity again. A serenity previously lost and now gained. It wasn't the book that made her loose her it. It wasn't even Malcolm or that dude in the shadows. It was her inability to be satisfied with herself — with her decisions. That's why she hated writing the novel. She hated having to relive every moment she regretted. But as she descended the stairs, she finally realized that she never took the time to look the good consequences among the bad. She had been so focused on the steps of despair that she didn't think to give the wicked things in life a chance.
'Like having a guardian shadow,' Elizabeth thought, smiling. She didn't know his name or purpose, only that he seemed to have been watching her back since she arrived in Washington Heights. 'You can't get that in San Francisco. It's too ...' She didn't know. She'd never experienced anything like Washington Heights before. It was ...
The rain appeared to have stopped as the sun began to shine through the window of the fifth floor. She threw the letter in the platform's trash bin before she sped down the remaining flights. Life was finally calling again. She would no longer hide from the world to cower in the past. She would live with a lesson learned — to never give up on passion and chase whatever called her.
A shattering crash reverberated through the streets. Elizabeth broke into a sprint as she passed the chasm of smoke and shadows where she once gave lunch to a man, later learned to be Naublus Croseman. The memory of his astonished face flew from her mind as she came upon Grandma Pearl. Sirens began to echo from streets beyond. She was standing over a tree branch, or was it ....
"Oh my god," Elizabeth whispered as she arrived at her side. Grandma Pearl wasn't just standing over a tree branch, she was standing over a body.
"Kind of ironic, isn't it?" Grandma Pearl asked as she held a page of the newspaper.
As Elizabeth looked from the circled add to the body, a hand covered her mouth as she gasped. This man. The man under the branch. The dead man. He was the man in the shadows, whose protecting presence was lost.
"I know him," she whispered to herself.
Her guardian shadow lost forevermore. As the sun continued to rise, Fil's peacefully mangled body fell deeper and deeper into the shadow of the tree. It was ...
Tragically beautiful.
It was early. Lillith reflected on the cool early morning air as she made her way down to the subway station. The dirty feel and smell filled her senses as she walked down the stairway to reach the first train of the day at 5:30. What a miserable place this is, filled with miserable people Lillith thought to herself, and, as she did so, grinned. This was the type of place for her. Where people huddled together in filth that never seemed to be cleaned to go to places that they hated and continued to hate more each and every day, it was wonderful. As she moved to the open car, a white number one smugged with dirt and grime placed on its doors, she noticed a woman towards the back of the car. Lillith walked into the car, took a seat, and watched as the woman, who seemed to have a lot on her mind, went about picking up her stuff. The woman looked up and at Lillith,
"What?" she asked irately. Lillith just smiled a condescending smile,
"So sorry, didn't mean to treat you like a spectacle." Lillith didn't even bother to wait to see what the woman's next reaction was. The train started.
...................................................
A few hours later Lillith got off the dingy number one train and prepared to emerge once more into the grungy haze that was Washington Heights, but that was not what greeted her. The sunlight hit her face and caused her to throw her hands up to protect her eyes. Since when does the sun shine here? Lillith made her way onward to her shop The Wrath, when she noticed that a branch from a tree in the park she was now in front of had fallen, an old woman was standing over what appeared to be the body of a young child. Lillith stood and stared at the scene before her wearing a blank expression as she took in all that had obviously happened and what that meant, then she turned and jay-walked across the street to her shop. The dog was gone, the cheery lighting in the shop was gone, no remnants of that other woman remained. Lillith smiled to herself as she went in and, even though the sun was shining, believed that, considering all the misery she had seen thus far, today was going to be a wonderful day.
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