(AN: This is for Dewey's summer fan fiction contest. I hope you enjoy!)
Disclaimer: I own nothing, but the plot and any other characters that you don't recognize.
Angel Kisses
By CiCi
The streets of Brooklyn were surprisingly empty, when Spot Conlon walked out of the "Puss in Boots Pub." He wandered up and down the streets, stumbling drunkenly, trying to find his way back to the Lodging House. He stopped in the middle of the street; turning every which way he realized that he was alone and lost on one of Brooklyn's many back alley roads. The only sound he could hear was of his shallow breaths and the scampering of the occasional alley cat. Figuring that he wouldn't be able to find his way out he sat down by a wall and prepared for a night out in the cold.
Hours later, Spot Conlon opened his eyes. He saw darkness, but he could hear footsteps coming closer. Out of the darkness stepped a small child, dressed in all white robes. Her blond hair was up in curls framing her face. Around her body was a slight white glow. As she passed his alley she looked in, smiled at him, and continued on with her journey. A sudden urge came over Spot. He needed to follow this little girl. He quickly got up and ran out of the alley to the street, searching for her. She was a little ways up the street. As he ran up to her she didn't turn to face him or even acknowledge that he was there. She had a slow pace, making it easy for Spot to keep up with her. She walked along slowly, leading him. He heard a scream. It came out of the night and was death filled. He turned to face it and thought better of it. He turned back around to talk to the girl.
"Wheah ah we goin'?"
She didn't answer. He was getting tired and his feet were getting heavy, but he would rather go with her than be left behind. It was hard to keep up with the girl, even though she was moving at a slow pace. Suddenly, she stopped and faced him. Standing on her tiptoes she kissed him on his cheek. He felt a tingle where she kissed him. She giggled. Her voice was like a harp. It was so beautiful. He was in awe. She looked up at the building she stopped at and looked back at him.
"Home." She whispered to him and vanished.
He looked up at the building. On the top of the door it said haphazardly "Brooklyn Lodging House." The little girl had led him home. He walked up the steps and opened the door. The newsies were sleeping. He crept silently to his room and collapsed on his bed exhausted.
The next morning, he awoke, still tired from his evening excursions. Thank God, he wasn't hung over. He just had a bit of a headache. As he peered into the mirror he noticed something strange. A mark on his face. He licked his thumb and rubbed over the mark. It didn't come off. Thinking back to last night he realized that the mark was located exactly where that little girl had kissed him. He shrugged it off as coincidence and headed to the Distribution Center with the rest of the newsies. He got his papers and skimmed through the headlines. Nothing really interesting had graced the front page. 'Great,' he thought, 'It's gonna be annudah hard day at woik.' He looked through the rest of the paper. A headline caught his eye. "Death in Brooklyn Back Streets." He read the article. The article was small, but informative. It explained that a body was found in the area where Spot was led from that night. The person had been brutally stabbed. There were no suspects to the crime. The article concluded by informing the reader that it was dangerous to go out at night and to be careful. He shrugged the warning off and looked up. Soaker, his second-in-command sat down next him.
"Ya were out drinkin' again last night, weren't ya?" Soaker demanded.
"Yeah, what's it to ya?" Spot defended.
"Nothing Spot. I just tink dat you'se need ta stop drinkin' every night. Ya gonna toin out ta be a drunk if you'se don't quit it. Ya can't do this ta yourself just because of some goil. Ya need ta get ovah huh."
Spot ignored Soakers demands and pleas and walked out for another day of work and hopefully another night of drinks. As usual he ended up in an alley dead asleep. A familiar noise woke him. The only light was created by the vast sky of stars, until the strange little girl walked by. She once again was illuminating the street. It seemed that the light came from her, rather than shining on her. Her white robes were pristine, which surprised him. No one could go anywhere in this city with out getting dirty. She turned her head to look at him and continued on her journey. He had that peculiar feeling again to follow her.
Once they were further down the street, he heard the sounds of hoof beats behind him. 'It must be a buggy.' Another sound; a horse neighing frantically and then a crash. He turned around. He couldn't see what happened and not another sound was coming from behind him. He ran his fingers through his shaggy dirty blond hair, trying to decide if he should follow the girl or go see what happened. He made his decision and turned back around to follow the girl. She was just about to turn the corner. He jogged his way back to her and continued to follow.
Following her through the labyrinth of streets, he once again started to get tired and lagged behind. She stopped and turned around, her eyes twinkling. She reached up once again and gave him a kiss on his other cheek. Another tingle formed. She looked up to the building and back at him. She smiled softly.
"Home." She whispered and vanished.
His mind reeled with what had happened, but he was able to go to sleep within a few minutes from exhaustion. The next day, with a huge hangover, and another new mark on his face, he made his way to Distribution Center. He quietly ignored Soakers shake of the head in disapproval and perused through the headlines. "Horse Buggy Goes Haywire Ending in Death." Horse Buggy? He read the article. Apparently, A horse buggy lost control and hitting a man. The buggy pinned the man to a brick wall of a store and the driver was thrown across the street dieing instantly. The horse had broken two of its legs and had to be put to sleep. 'Was that what I heard last night?' He pondered.
He tried to shrug it off, but the thought stuck with him the rest of the day. He managed to forget all about it when he went to the pub that night. He had immense fun, drinking with the rest of the regulars. He stumbled out and passed out in an alley like the night before. He once again woke to the familiar figure walking by the alley, to lead him home. Without question, he got up tiredly and stumbled after her, like the night before
These nights had become strangely familiar and Spot continued on drinking, knowing that the little girl would lead him home. When they were further down the street, he heard a gun shot. No noise followed it. He wanted to turn back, but he knew he couldn't jeopardize his opportunity to go home. He ignored the shot and kept following the girl and as the two other nights before this one, she stop and stared at the building next to them. She turned her head and gave him a grin. Two dimples graced her face and she reached up and kissed his forehead.
"Home." She whispered and vanished.
He sighed at the familiarity of it all and walked inside the Lodging House, hoping to get at least a few hours of sleep. The day broke like any other and after getting ready and after finding a new spot on his face, Spot led his newsies to the Distribution Center. After buying his usual hundred, he sat down to look through the headlines. "Man Injured From Gunshot Wound." He read the article and just like the two before it the place where the man was injured was where Spot had been asleep. He furrowed his eyebrows, ignored Soaker and took off back to the Lodging House trying to figure out what was happening.
The whole day he sat on his bunk trying to figure out who the little girl was. He connected the scream, the crash, and the gunshot to the news articles in the paper. It all happened where he had been. He started to believe that if the girl hadn't come by to lead him away, he would have been in those accidents. He would be dead. By the time he was done trying to figure out what was going on, his newsies had started to wander into the LH. As soon as Soaker came to the LH he was out the door trying to find a bar.
Months past, Spot kept up his usual behavior and unknown to anyone, but him he was protected by this little girl. She wouldn't appear to him every night, but occasionally she would lead him away from danger to his home and like always the next day he would have a mark from where she had kissed him and he would read in the paper an article of someone killed, murdered, or injured where he had been that night. He kept on drinking himself away, confident that the little girl would rescue him from danger. And he was right, she did lead him away from danger, but she couldn't lead him away from the most dangerous thing of all. And he found it out one night that he was particularly depressed about his old girl.
He stepped out of the bar and stumbled into the alley. He reflected on everything that had happened in his life; from becoming a Brooklyn newsie to becoming the leader. He thought about his beautiful girl. He had planned to ask her to marry him, but their relationship made an unexpected turn for the worst, when she was tragically killed. He remembered the day that he found out clearly...
He had sold his papers today like any other day. He was feeling particularly good about his day. He couldn't wait to see his girl Mary. They had a date tonight and he was going to ask her to marry him. He was confident that he would say yes. He had already gone to her parents asking if he could marry her. They had discussed it with one another and decided yes.
He was on his way to pick up Mary right now and he was a little nervous about it. He loved they way her blonde hair fell into her eyes when she was feeling shy. She had an all around good personality, but when you got her mad you had to watch out. She could hold her own in a fight, but she was sensitive too. He could tell her anything and she would listen and tell you her unbiased opinions. She loved to laugh and that's what he loved most about her. Her laugh was beautiful and that's what he first fell in love with. She saw the beauty in life while others scorned it. She saw the beauty in him, when everyone else saw a stone. She loved him and he loved her, though reluctantly at first. He didn't want anyone to know that he could love, but she showed him that it was a good thing to love and be loved.
He showed up at her door and knocked. Her father, Mr. Williams, answered the door. His face was stricken and his eyes were red. When he saw Spot, a tear rolled down his cheek. Spot was confused. He had never seen Mr. Williams cry. In fact Jacob Williams was one of the toughest men that he knew. It had taken him a long time to get on his good side and let him take his daughter out. Mr. Williams and crying didn't mix. Something had to be wrong. He stepped into the hall, when Mr. Williams motioned him in. Sobbing could be heard down the hall in the living room. On the couch Mrs. Williams had her face in her hands and was sobbing, tears running down her cheeks smearing her rouge. What really set Spot off was the police officer that was standing off to the side.
"What's goin on heah? Wheah is Mary?" Spot asked desperately.
"Spot," Mr. Williams said gently, "Mary was in an accident. She was coming home on the trolley and accidentally fell off and under the wheels. She didn't make, Spot. She died." Mr. Williams couldn't take the meaning of his words and sat down on the couch to comfort his wife and to try not to cry himself.
Spot looked at the two and backed up into the hallway. He was wide- eyed. He didn't want to believe the words that Mr. Williams had said. He turned and ran out the door. He wandered the streets until he came to a pub. That's when he had started to drink his life away. As he sat in the pub he fingered the small ring he was going to give the girl. He ordered another drink and downed it. As he left the pub that night he threw the ring in the trash can and didn't think of it again...
Spot fell asleep again in the alley. He woke up a few hours later and felt a weight on his chest. He couldn't breath. He gasped for breath and as he clutched his chest his eyes drifted shut in pain. A bright, white light flowed into his shut lids and he opened his eyes again he saw the little girl. She had stopped in the alley and was staring at him. She leaned down to grasp his hand and pulled him up. He got up with her help, but she kept staring at where he had lain. There in the corner was his body. He was still clutching his chest and his eyes were still closed.
The little girl looked at him and walked out of the alley. Spot was stunned. This had to be a dream. Why was he in the corner and looking at himself at the same time? Was he dead? Nah. This had to be some crazy ass dream that he conjured through his drunken state of mind. Either that or he was hallucinating. He backed out of the alleyway and out into the street. Further down the road was the little girl. He ran to catch up with her. As he walked beside her, she took his hand.
This was new. She had never touched him and never spoken to him, except the word home and the kisses on the face. The journey home was taking longer tonight, but what was funny was that he never got tired. He never lagged behind. He furrowed his brows, when she led him to a church instead of the Lodging House.
As they started up the stairs Spot asked where they were going. She smiled brightly at him.
"Home." She whispered.
She grabbed his hand tighter and walked through the doors of the church, unharmed. He followed behind. He was amazed that he had gotten through ok. He laughed at himself. This was one weird dream. He was going to wake up tomorrow in the alley. Right? She grasped his hand harder and led him through the pews to the altar. She turned to face him. He looked at her, searching in her face for some answers.
"Wheah ah we?" He asked.
"St. Mary's Church." She replied with a strong voice. He was surprised she didn't whisper.
"Ok...Wheah ah we goin'?" He asked.
"Home. We are going home." She replied again with a strong voice.
"Am I'se dead?" He asked uncertainly.
"Yes." She smiled at him.
"Why?" He was shocked.
"Spot, I can protect you from everything in this world, but I can't protect you from your self. I tried to show you, by leading you away from the dangerous things that you were going to encounter, but you never took the chances at life that I had given you. Were going home now Spot, get ready." She told him.
She grabbed both of his hands and kissed the tops of each. She smiled at him and he blinked at the white light that filled the room, suddenly. He was no longer in the church, but at beautiful gates that reached the skies. Beside him was the little girl. The gates opened and the girl motioned him inside. He let go of her hands and stepped into the light that was inside. The gates shut behind him and there, on the beginning of the path, was his beautiful Mary. She smiled at him.
"I've been waiting for you." She held out her hand. "Welcome home."
Disclaimer: I own nothing, but the plot and any other characters that you don't recognize.
Angel Kisses
By CiCi
The streets of Brooklyn were surprisingly empty, when Spot Conlon walked out of the "Puss in Boots Pub." He wandered up and down the streets, stumbling drunkenly, trying to find his way back to the Lodging House. He stopped in the middle of the street; turning every which way he realized that he was alone and lost on one of Brooklyn's many back alley roads. The only sound he could hear was of his shallow breaths and the scampering of the occasional alley cat. Figuring that he wouldn't be able to find his way out he sat down by a wall and prepared for a night out in the cold.
Hours later, Spot Conlon opened his eyes. He saw darkness, but he could hear footsteps coming closer. Out of the darkness stepped a small child, dressed in all white robes. Her blond hair was up in curls framing her face. Around her body was a slight white glow. As she passed his alley she looked in, smiled at him, and continued on with her journey. A sudden urge came over Spot. He needed to follow this little girl. He quickly got up and ran out of the alley to the street, searching for her. She was a little ways up the street. As he ran up to her she didn't turn to face him or even acknowledge that he was there. She had a slow pace, making it easy for Spot to keep up with her. She walked along slowly, leading him. He heard a scream. It came out of the night and was death filled. He turned to face it and thought better of it. He turned back around to talk to the girl.
"Wheah ah we goin'?"
She didn't answer. He was getting tired and his feet were getting heavy, but he would rather go with her than be left behind. It was hard to keep up with the girl, even though she was moving at a slow pace. Suddenly, she stopped and faced him. Standing on her tiptoes she kissed him on his cheek. He felt a tingle where she kissed him. She giggled. Her voice was like a harp. It was so beautiful. He was in awe. She looked up at the building she stopped at and looked back at him.
"Home." She whispered to him and vanished.
He looked up at the building. On the top of the door it said haphazardly "Brooklyn Lodging House." The little girl had led him home. He walked up the steps and opened the door. The newsies were sleeping. He crept silently to his room and collapsed on his bed exhausted.
The next morning, he awoke, still tired from his evening excursions. Thank God, he wasn't hung over. He just had a bit of a headache. As he peered into the mirror he noticed something strange. A mark on his face. He licked his thumb and rubbed over the mark. It didn't come off. Thinking back to last night he realized that the mark was located exactly where that little girl had kissed him. He shrugged it off as coincidence and headed to the Distribution Center with the rest of the newsies. He got his papers and skimmed through the headlines. Nothing really interesting had graced the front page. 'Great,' he thought, 'It's gonna be annudah hard day at woik.' He looked through the rest of the paper. A headline caught his eye. "Death in Brooklyn Back Streets." He read the article. The article was small, but informative. It explained that a body was found in the area where Spot was led from that night. The person had been brutally stabbed. There were no suspects to the crime. The article concluded by informing the reader that it was dangerous to go out at night and to be careful. He shrugged the warning off and looked up. Soaker, his second-in-command sat down next him.
"Ya were out drinkin' again last night, weren't ya?" Soaker demanded.
"Yeah, what's it to ya?" Spot defended.
"Nothing Spot. I just tink dat you'se need ta stop drinkin' every night. Ya gonna toin out ta be a drunk if you'se don't quit it. Ya can't do this ta yourself just because of some goil. Ya need ta get ovah huh."
Spot ignored Soakers demands and pleas and walked out for another day of work and hopefully another night of drinks. As usual he ended up in an alley dead asleep. A familiar noise woke him. The only light was created by the vast sky of stars, until the strange little girl walked by. She once again was illuminating the street. It seemed that the light came from her, rather than shining on her. Her white robes were pristine, which surprised him. No one could go anywhere in this city with out getting dirty. She turned her head to look at him and continued on her journey. He had that peculiar feeling again to follow her.
Once they were further down the street, he heard the sounds of hoof beats behind him. 'It must be a buggy.' Another sound; a horse neighing frantically and then a crash. He turned around. He couldn't see what happened and not another sound was coming from behind him. He ran his fingers through his shaggy dirty blond hair, trying to decide if he should follow the girl or go see what happened. He made his decision and turned back around to follow the girl. She was just about to turn the corner. He jogged his way back to her and continued to follow.
Following her through the labyrinth of streets, he once again started to get tired and lagged behind. She stopped and turned around, her eyes twinkling. She reached up once again and gave him a kiss on his other cheek. Another tingle formed. She looked up to the building and back at him. She smiled softly.
"Home." She whispered and vanished.
His mind reeled with what had happened, but he was able to go to sleep within a few minutes from exhaustion. The next day, with a huge hangover, and another new mark on his face, he made his way to Distribution Center. He quietly ignored Soakers shake of the head in disapproval and perused through the headlines. "Horse Buggy Goes Haywire Ending in Death." Horse Buggy? He read the article. Apparently, A horse buggy lost control and hitting a man. The buggy pinned the man to a brick wall of a store and the driver was thrown across the street dieing instantly. The horse had broken two of its legs and had to be put to sleep. 'Was that what I heard last night?' He pondered.
He tried to shrug it off, but the thought stuck with him the rest of the day. He managed to forget all about it when he went to the pub that night. He had immense fun, drinking with the rest of the regulars. He stumbled out and passed out in an alley like the night before. He once again woke to the familiar figure walking by the alley, to lead him home. Without question, he got up tiredly and stumbled after her, like the night before
These nights had become strangely familiar and Spot continued on drinking, knowing that the little girl would lead him home. When they were further down the street, he heard a gun shot. No noise followed it. He wanted to turn back, but he knew he couldn't jeopardize his opportunity to go home. He ignored the shot and kept following the girl and as the two other nights before this one, she stop and stared at the building next to them. She turned her head and gave him a grin. Two dimples graced her face and she reached up and kissed his forehead.
"Home." She whispered and vanished.
He sighed at the familiarity of it all and walked inside the Lodging House, hoping to get at least a few hours of sleep. The day broke like any other and after getting ready and after finding a new spot on his face, Spot led his newsies to the Distribution Center. After buying his usual hundred, he sat down to look through the headlines. "Man Injured From Gunshot Wound." He read the article and just like the two before it the place where the man was injured was where Spot had been asleep. He furrowed his eyebrows, ignored Soaker and took off back to the Lodging House trying to figure out what was happening.
The whole day he sat on his bunk trying to figure out who the little girl was. He connected the scream, the crash, and the gunshot to the news articles in the paper. It all happened where he had been. He started to believe that if the girl hadn't come by to lead him away, he would have been in those accidents. He would be dead. By the time he was done trying to figure out what was going on, his newsies had started to wander into the LH. As soon as Soaker came to the LH he was out the door trying to find a bar.
Months past, Spot kept up his usual behavior and unknown to anyone, but him he was protected by this little girl. She wouldn't appear to him every night, but occasionally she would lead him away from danger to his home and like always the next day he would have a mark from where she had kissed him and he would read in the paper an article of someone killed, murdered, or injured where he had been that night. He kept on drinking himself away, confident that the little girl would rescue him from danger. And he was right, she did lead him away from danger, but she couldn't lead him away from the most dangerous thing of all. And he found it out one night that he was particularly depressed about his old girl.
He stepped out of the bar and stumbled into the alley. He reflected on everything that had happened in his life; from becoming a Brooklyn newsie to becoming the leader. He thought about his beautiful girl. He had planned to ask her to marry him, but their relationship made an unexpected turn for the worst, when she was tragically killed. He remembered the day that he found out clearly...
He had sold his papers today like any other day. He was feeling particularly good about his day. He couldn't wait to see his girl Mary. They had a date tonight and he was going to ask her to marry him. He was confident that he would say yes. He had already gone to her parents asking if he could marry her. They had discussed it with one another and decided yes.
He was on his way to pick up Mary right now and he was a little nervous about it. He loved they way her blonde hair fell into her eyes when she was feeling shy. She had an all around good personality, but when you got her mad you had to watch out. She could hold her own in a fight, but she was sensitive too. He could tell her anything and she would listen and tell you her unbiased opinions. She loved to laugh and that's what he loved most about her. Her laugh was beautiful and that's what he first fell in love with. She saw the beauty in life while others scorned it. She saw the beauty in him, when everyone else saw a stone. She loved him and he loved her, though reluctantly at first. He didn't want anyone to know that he could love, but she showed him that it was a good thing to love and be loved.
He showed up at her door and knocked. Her father, Mr. Williams, answered the door. His face was stricken and his eyes were red. When he saw Spot, a tear rolled down his cheek. Spot was confused. He had never seen Mr. Williams cry. In fact Jacob Williams was one of the toughest men that he knew. It had taken him a long time to get on his good side and let him take his daughter out. Mr. Williams and crying didn't mix. Something had to be wrong. He stepped into the hall, when Mr. Williams motioned him in. Sobbing could be heard down the hall in the living room. On the couch Mrs. Williams had her face in her hands and was sobbing, tears running down her cheeks smearing her rouge. What really set Spot off was the police officer that was standing off to the side.
"What's goin on heah? Wheah is Mary?" Spot asked desperately.
"Spot," Mr. Williams said gently, "Mary was in an accident. She was coming home on the trolley and accidentally fell off and under the wheels. She didn't make, Spot. She died." Mr. Williams couldn't take the meaning of his words and sat down on the couch to comfort his wife and to try not to cry himself.
Spot looked at the two and backed up into the hallway. He was wide- eyed. He didn't want to believe the words that Mr. Williams had said. He turned and ran out the door. He wandered the streets until he came to a pub. That's when he had started to drink his life away. As he sat in the pub he fingered the small ring he was going to give the girl. He ordered another drink and downed it. As he left the pub that night he threw the ring in the trash can and didn't think of it again...
Spot fell asleep again in the alley. He woke up a few hours later and felt a weight on his chest. He couldn't breath. He gasped for breath and as he clutched his chest his eyes drifted shut in pain. A bright, white light flowed into his shut lids and he opened his eyes again he saw the little girl. She had stopped in the alley and was staring at him. She leaned down to grasp his hand and pulled him up. He got up with her help, but she kept staring at where he had lain. There in the corner was his body. He was still clutching his chest and his eyes were still closed.
The little girl looked at him and walked out of the alley. Spot was stunned. This had to be a dream. Why was he in the corner and looking at himself at the same time? Was he dead? Nah. This had to be some crazy ass dream that he conjured through his drunken state of mind. Either that or he was hallucinating. He backed out of the alleyway and out into the street. Further down the road was the little girl. He ran to catch up with her. As he walked beside her, she took his hand.
This was new. She had never touched him and never spoken to him, except the word home and the kisses on the face. The journey home was taking longer tonight, but what was funny was that he never got tired. He never lagged behind. He furrowed his brows, when she led him to a church instead of the Lodging House.
As they started up the stairs Spot asked where they were going. She smiled brightly at him.
"Home." She whispered.
She grabbed his hand tighter and walked through the doors of the church, unharmed. He followed behind. He was amazed that he had gotten through ok. He laughed at himself. This was one weird dream. He was going to wake up tomorrow in the alley. Right? She grasped his hand harder and led him through the pews to the altar. She turned to face him. He looked at her, searching in her face for some answers.
"Wheah ah we?" He asked.
"St. Mary's Church." She replied with a strong voice. He was surprised she didn't whisper.
"Ok...Wheah ah we goin'?" He asked.
"Home. We are going home." She replied again with a strong voice.
"Am I'se dead?" He asked uncertainly.
"Yes." She smiled at him.
"Why?" He was shocked.
"Spot, I can protect you from everything in this world, but I can't protect you from your self. I tried to show you, by leading you away from the dangerous things that you were going to encounter, but you never took the chances at life that I had given you. Were going home now Spot, get ready." She told him.
She grabbed both of his hands and kissed the tops of each. She smiled at him and he blinked at the white light that filled the room, suddenly. He was no longer in the church, but at beautiful gates that reached the skies. Beside him was the little girl. The gates opened and the girl motioned him inside. He let go of her hands and stepped into the light that was inside. The gates shut behind him and there, on the beginning of the path, was his beautiful Mary. She smiled at him.
"I've been waiting for you." She held out her hand. "Welcome home."