Hidden
Angels
By Ariana Brophy
This short story is dedicated to all the teachers I ever had, no matter if they supported my love of writing or knew nothing about it; especially my homeroom teacher this year who encouraged me to write this tale.
Thank you all.
- A. Brophy
In the arms of an angel,
Fly away from here.
From this dark, cold hotel room,
And the endlessness you fear.
You are pulled from the wreckage,
Of your silent reverie.
You're in the arms of the angel,
May you find some comfort there.
- Sarah McLachlan, City of Angels Soundtrack
To some, peace on earth and mercy mild is just a myth, part of a song. To others, it consists of truth, and fact. These either believe, in pure faith and commitment to their religion or faiths; or because, they, a select few, are witnesses to miracles of any ranking.
These miracles are known to come in forms of angels, singing heavenly praises, or in dreams, though only rarely. Faint glimpses often turn viewers to a life of faith, turning from their old ways of living.
However the appearance, and for whatever the reason, angels have always been known to bring with them a great cheer and joy.
As life itself has many surprises, angels also surprise various living things. They have been rumored to come in disguise as people of our own origin, even themselves not knowing their true purpose for life.
Such an event happened on a midnight clear, when snowflakes drifted lazily from unseen clouds that covered the floor of the heavens above.
A boy, at the age of 14, walked down the street, clothed in ragged slacks and suspenders. As the full moon shone brilliantly on the cobblestone pavements of New York City in 1897, Christmas carols rang throughout the streets, echoing eerily from building to building.
His black hair was shoved hastily under his cap; his dark brown eyes alert and excited. It was Christmas Eve; the night that Kloppman prepared a feast for the boys.
Kloppman was an elderly man, with curly white hair that only partially covered his balding head, and icy blue eyes that froze the heart of any stranger. No matter the state of his eyes, the man was kindly, taking the boys into his lodging house each night after they had done their jobs.
The boys were actually newsies, and their days were spent peddling the newspapers of Joseph Pulitzer, William Randolph Hearst and other giants of the newspaper world.
Poor orphans and runaways, the newsies were a family of its own, caring for each other in times of need.
Itey was one of these newsies. He rose early in the morning, ready for a breakfast of stale coffee and flaky bread; charity from nuns. Then with his friends and pals, bought and sold the newspapers written while they slept.
He sold alone the majority of the time, with the exception of when Jack, the leader assigned a new boy to him to teach.
Jack was a cowboy, born and bred with the ways of the west. He even looked the part, with his cowboy hat and vest, his runaway hair always ruffling in the wind, even when there was none. His eyes were just as unruly, catching many a glance from girls of many statuses.
Then there was Raven, the only girl who was dubbed a second-in-command on a one day judging period. Her long auburn hair was waved, making her look as wildly spirited as she truly was, thought her midnight black eyes did nothing to warn strangers of her nature.
Itey looked around; taking in the merrily lit trees that brightened the windows of richer families. Though Lower Manhattan was thought to be an area of lower status living, fortunes and life was easy going.
Brooklyn however, had Conlon as a leader.
Spot Conlon was the toughest, most arrogant ladies man, ever to roam the streets of New York. At least, that is what everybody thought.
He had icy blue eyes that stared, a tinge of green etched around the black pupil whilst soft silver snow fell, just like that of a snow globe. Silky blonde hair reached slightly past his earlobe, and at every step he took, his hair would brush against his face, and a small wisp fall in front of his eyes.
Girls went crazy for him, but his temper was uncontrollable by most. Only one girl was known to have reign over his moods, which, like a ticking clock, waited for just the right moment to set off.
Miracle was her name, Jack's sister. She was two years younger than Spot, but the only way to tame her own fiery soul was to allow her free stay with him.
Long hair fell just past her shoulders, the background of original brown color barely visible against the red highlights. Her eyes had a dark brown color, and in happiness and grief turned a brilliant emerald green.
The wind howled, tossing the edges of Itey's coat into all directions.
Sudden clouds flew across the sky, sending shadows dancing along walls and streets.
Itey looked around, every person he passed seeming to stare straight into his heart. He took off; fear overwhelming every nerve in his body as his worn down shoes thudded on the stone pavement.
He turned, racing around a corner, when suddenly, he found himself sprawled on the cold ground.
Itey shook his head and laughed. Under his feet was a paper bag, large and bulky with thick fabric spilling out of the gapping opening.
Sitting up slowly, he reached over and pulled the bag upright and peered into it. His face lit up, wonder and amazement flooding his mind.
Inside the bag, thicker than blankets most newsies had even dreamed of, were quilts of every design and color imaginable. It was evident that a woman had put all her time, and effort into these. For a child maybe, or a grandchild, they were sufficient even for sleeping on the streets.
Itey jumped to his feet, looking around happily. He did a short jig, before strutting happily down the pavement.
His speed and confidence was consistent until a split second when he faltered, an image splaying across his eyes.
Two children grasped the hands of a pale and stick-like figure and they lay there, huddled on the ground in the cold. The magic spell Christmas had spread across the world seemed to have no effect on the group, and they shivered silently, whimpering in their sleep.
Itey shook, turning away from the family with as much courage as he could muster up. He regained his stride, not so much feeling the confidence he showed.
It was not long until the darkness gave way to the brightly-lit Lodging House, where laughter burst through every window and door, and newsies munched merrily on Kloppman's homemade goodies.
Itey slipped silently through the crowd, his mouth in a loose frown.
"What's wrong kiddo?" That was Raven, her voice laughing and sympathetic all at once.
"I saw a family on the way here – and," he broke off, waiting for her regular interruption.
"And what?"
He smiled softly, correct. "And they were freezing."
Raven patted his back solemnly; "It's part of life Ites. We're lucky enough to have jobs, and we didn't even have to go to an interview. So what's in the bag?"
Itey paused, slipping her a peek.
Raven's dark eyes opened wide. "That's why yer so glum?" When he nodded, she continued her active state of mind taking over. "Now I understand. Look Ites, they're freezin', and we got all this." She waved around her. "But whatcha gonna do? Go back and give it to them?"
Itey froze. It might just work. They needed the blankets much more than anything he needed. "Yea." He whispered.
Raven took a step back, tottering on her heels. "Huh?"
"I'm gonna go back, gonna give them the blankets."
Raven sighed, smacking her hand against her lips. "Me and my big mouth."
Itey smiled softly. "Yup. You and yer big mouth are going to make some poor family have a nice Christmas."
Raven grabbed her hair and rolled it up, shoving it messily underneath a cap on her head. "If it was my idea, I'm comin."
Together, they avoided the partying group of newsboys. As their footsteps padded softly down the stone street, Itey tried to recall the location of the family.
The passed smoke billowing factories, the muffled scream of machinery slipping under cracks in the walls and under the closed doors.
Shouts of drunken men spilled from a beaten up tavern as two fighting men were tossed out into the moonlit street.
When the family's shivering form came into view, Itey faltered, stumbling slightly over his feet. However, Raven's arm shot out, gasping his hand comfortingly and he regained his confidence.
She released him and he walked slowly forward, leaving her standing in a thin ray of moonlight that made its way through the tall buildings of Manhattan.
The tallest of the family had wavy red hair and piercing green eyes than took in all around her. She wore tattered clothes, practically see through in some parts.
Itey swallowed the nervousness that flooded his throat. "Uh . . . Miss?" he whispered, afraid to startle her.
She wasn't startled, however her children were. They both had her hair, but their eyes were a deep brown, darkened by their shadowy domain. They had fragile faces, but angelic grins as they cowered behind the thin figure of their mother.
"Who are you." The lady gasped, her voice thick with hatred, but fear seeped through.
"My name is Itey, Miss. I brought something for you." He held out the bag.
She peered at him, staring him up and down in doubt. "My name is Patricia."
He smiled. "It is nice to meet you Patricia." He stepped toward them, taking slow, yet steady steps.
Placing the bag on the cold ground before them, he took a small step back and waited silently. "Please look."
Patricia took a step forward, grabbing the bag and stepping back, pulling the sides open.
The children crowded forward, peering inside happily.
Together, the trio looked up, wonder etched in their eyes and faces. "How you do this?" Patricia asked, tears quivering in the corners of her eyes.
Itey smiled, walking forward to give her a hug. "I found them. I was once like you, on the street, and a person gave me shelter."
She hugged him back. "We thanks you much."
Itey smiled, his teeth showing in a way quite unnatural for him. "It was nothing."
One of the children took a step forward and carefully wrapped her hands around his leg in an affectionate hug. After smiling up at him shyly, she took a step back and curtsied wobbly.
Patricia smiled. "We wish for you to join us tonight."
Itey shook his head sadly. "I can't Miss. I have family to celebrate with. However, I will come visit you."
Patricia paused, slowly reaching into the bag. She extracted a blanket, different in design from the others, and handed it to him.
As the silky fabric touched his hand, Itey's brow furrowed and he stared at her in wonder.
"A token of our appreciation," Patricia whispered, "For our guardian angel."
Itey smiled softly and stared into her eyes. "I am not your guardian angel, but I am, your friend." He stepped forward, holding out his hand to shake her own.
As her cool hand connected with his, Itey smiled. Spot had always said Irish women had the strongest grips.
Their grasps loosened and each pulled away, Itey backing slowly away and tipping his hat as he turned and walked toward Raven's still form.
"They're so cute." She whispered.
Itey nodded slowly, watching as she turned to walk with him, and they retraced their path.
They passed the tavern, where only a few men still lounging around inside. The factory's chugging of machinery had stopped, setting an eerie silence on the area surrounding it.
As the lodging house came into view, Raven began to walk faster, Itey's pace matching her own.
The festivities had long since ended. Spot and his Brooklyn newsies would have gone home, drunk most likely. Jack would have herded the younger boys into bed, and the oldest would sit and talk, waiting in the dark and telling stories of times long gone.
They pushed the door open, slowly putting one foot, then another, into the wooden building. Tiptoeing up the stairs, Itey hoped desperately that Kloppman wouldn't find out they just got in; Curfew was 10:00 sharp.
"G'night Raven." Itey whispered as the stairs branched off into the girls' wing.
She nodded, tipping her cap in silence. He watched slowly as she turned and slipped through the door of the girls bunkroom.
Turning, Itey slipped into his own room, the rows of bunks against the yellow tinted walls. He drifted past them all to the bunk nearest the window.
He crawled into the top, sliding the covers up, the quilt forgotten on the mattress beside him.
Minutes passed, Itey staring blankly at the roof while the boy beneath him shivered.
Crawling down slowly, he unfolded the quilt and let it settle on the boy's thin form. Itey smiled and crawled back into bed, drifting lazily off into a dream filled sleep.
In the air outside his window, a chime-like voice rang through the streets, "Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night."
The End