This is a story I am currently working on. For now...here is a preview piece (that is also the beginning). Enjoy!
The night was quite chilly. Tabitha did not notice, even though she was in beggar's rags. She was too frightened to take notice of the cold. She glanced behind her in fear. The stories she heard were true.
Suddenly, Tabitha bumped into a man in a black overcoat with a black top hat and wearing dark grey trousers.
She did not observe his clothing at the time, as she backed away, or tried to. The man had a hold of her shoulders.
"I say, steady on there, Miss!" stated the gentleman, but Tabitha hardly heard him.
She kicked the man in the shins, making him let go of her. Tabitha heard shouting behind her but she kept running. Ducking into a side-alley, Tabitha stopped as she reached a dead end. A shadow loomed over the nine-year-old girl. Turning around, gasping in short but heavy breaths, Tabitha fainted from fright, believing her persuer had caught up with her at last.
(if people like this and want more, please tell me here.)
Tabitha did not know what to say, it seemed like such an extravagant thing to give, though most likely it only cost two pounds forty at a local shop.
Reaching out, Tabitha cupped her hands beneath The Illustrator's right hand and he let go of the necklace, letting it drop into Tabitha's out-stretched hands with ease.
Tabitha felt the cool metal within her palms, feeling the slight weight before bringing her hands in to rest by her chest, as if in Prayer.
Tabitha held one part of the necklace chain with one hand and another with her other hand.
Looping it over her head, Tabitha let it rest upon her neck, the moon barely visible as it was nearly obscured by her long singlet.
"It is very beautiful," stated a smiling Tabitha, holding her left hand over her chest where she could feel the slight crescent-shaped impression rise from her still damp singlet.
"May it protect you," stated The Illustrator, his face still beaming. "For I feel this is the last time we shall meet."
Tabitha's smile was wiped from her face, her left and right hands by her side.
Sammy Gibb had been observing all this with interest, still leaning against the wall of the hovel. He had tried to observe Tabitha's gift but only caught a glimpse of what looked like gold in the flickering candlelight before Tabitha was handed it.
(to be continued...)
Sad part...I think.
Uninterested once more, Sammy relaxed more against the damp wall, keeping vigilant in case any intruders would find the entrance of The Illustrator's lair.
"What do you mean I won't see you again?" asked an anxious Tabitha, her hand whipping back to the moon-shaped iron hanging round her neck and clutched it with loving anxiety.
The Illustrator sighed, wheezing slightly as he gently sat down, his old bones creaking from this simple motion until he was sprawled out on his bed of old blankets.
"I guess you should know by now, I am not exactly as young as I used to be and living in this state has not improved my health at all. I fear I am nearing the end, Tabitha. I too must suffer old age until my weary bones cannot take it much longer," stated The Illustrator glumly but with remorseful affection.
"I don't understand...." said Tabitha briefly before The Illustrator cut off her sentence.
"The police may catch me, or I may not be caught. In either case, I won't be around. This is a tiresome world, my dear. You shall learn that when you become as old as I have," said The Illustrator as he smiled at Tabitha.
It was a smile of peace, one Tabitha knew was a smile of a person who had lived as hey had and did not care the coincidences of their departure.
(to be continued...)
But Tabitha was not ready; she knew everyone had to leave some time or another, but not just after she received a great gift from the one who was to....
Tabitha's thoughts abruptly stopped in her head as she felt tears prickle within her eyes.
"Why do you have to go?" she asked The Illustrator.
His wheezing seemed calmer now, but Tabitha did not know wether that was good or bad.
"We must all leave sooner or later, do not ask such questions my dear, for they will...only.... be..."
The Illustrator was unable to finish his sentence. His ragged breathing had finally stopped, his old yet sparkling eyes glazing over.
The Illustrator's monocle fell from his eye, catching taught upon the chain that was fastened to the old dusty cloak that was worn by a dead man.
At first, Tabitha could not admit to herself what she had just witnessed was what she had never seen before, the last breaths of a person living turning into a hallow shell of the now dead.
Tabitha slowly crouched down in her long singlet and she started to cry, the tears obscured from the dank air as Tabitha held her hands over her face that was flushed with remorse and sorrow.
(to be continued...)
(part 37, chapter 6)
Chapter 6: Of Death And Sorrow....
Tabitha remained on the ground, weeping at her friend's demise a few moments ago.
Sammy had been watching the whole thing, almost indignant that The Illustrator was dead. Sammy Gibb knew he wasn't really learned in things like Tabitha, he was slightly bitter at what he thought was "special treatment" but he admired her for a whole lot of other things as well.
Sammy walked over to Tabitha and gently knelt beside her, glancing over at the dead body of their mentor and once dear friend.
Sammy was a caring fellow, really he was, but he was a child whom had not learnt how to cry at such morbid things that appeared to shock him so.
"He 'as a good un," muttered Sammy, slightly abashed at the sound of his own voice.
He was not fully aware of how quiet everything was until he had spoken, besides the sobs of the crying Tabitha.
Tabitha slowly stood up, brushing the tears from her face. She could cry all she wanted, but she had lived through rough things worse then this, she could get through this as well.
She noticed Sammy glance up at her, his pitiful form seemed somewhat shrivelled but that was due to the angle she was looking at him.
She did not pity Sammy, he was like her sure, but every orphan looked out for himself or herself. That was the way of the streets.
(to be continued...)
you should make a book
everybody who thinks he should make a book put a or a or even a !
Lol..whaty do you think you are reading? This..is a book..or it will be if I finish and publish it.
Anyway, I shall not be continuing this unless I know people are reading it.
Cool!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! you are the man!!
Just wanted to check people were reading..cause hardly worthwhile to put it up if nobody is reading it.
Next part will be up soon.
(part 38 )
A new resolve had built up inside Tabitha; the ordeal of her mentor dying had toughened her up somewhat after going through the grieving process.
Sammy was still in a state of shock, his life was cruddy but he had never experienced death before in his young life.
"He's gone," muttered Sammy in a hushed voice, his usual merry exterior now brazen with remorse.
"And he's not coming back," stated Tabitha matter-of-factly, her own voice alien-like to her own mind.
"Why must ya say that?" asked Sammy to Tabitha, glancing at her after quickly looking at the dead body that was about twelve feet in front of them.
"Because it is the truth," replied Tabitha, in a slightly more mild voice.
The two children stared at each other for a few minutes, Tabitha above Sammy wearing a large dirty singlet and clasping tightly to her moon-shaped pendant. Meanwhile, Sammy was staring up at the girl Tabitha wearing the same dirty clothes he wore when they first met, his eyes slightly red from the suppressed tears he dared not to shed.
The two knew themselves but not each other. Yet, circumstances beyond their control had fated them to keep meeting each other. Wether this was planned or not, nobody can be certain. But, the total assumption of there being a circumstance in which they had shared a tragic experience, one would not deny that Fate had most likely intervened on their behalf.
(to be continued...)