Disclaimer-I do not own the newsies anddon't claim to,but i do own isolda and any other character that is not familiar with disney, THEMAN!
Prologue
Where are the words to say what everybody is thinking? How can a simple conjunction of sounds from the beginning of the days of our ancestors define the lessons life forces down our throats? Those questions have never come so easily even to the mouth that spins golden lies or to the closed heart- as much as we treasure the language of connection it extends only as far as the speaker is willing to go. And now, after so long of staring into their eyes and begging for guidance and the strength to delve back into the very darkest hours of my life (and the very lightest) I am ready to go the distance. To transport you back into a time where I was an unknown, nameless creature hanging onto the threads of this life by lynching reality, ready to blow away with the wind and the internal struggle, the external, and the struggle of New York in those days of mystery and crime- the modern Arthurian legend.
Words will never do the justice each person's story deserves. Yet I come to you, yes you there taking just minutes to grace me with your time, to use the tool of language to cross that bridge between us for a story that I must tell. Nobody is complete until their story has been written down, and hopefully this display of words will give you insight into how life was for me in the winter of 1900, and hopefully you will take the words, just a few, to heart. No, I do not compare this account to the great lessons of life or the novellas of our time- I simply hope I can touch you in a way that I've been touched. It's been said everybody influences you, has left their footprint in your heart and memory- I can only hope my influence is a good one. For after all, are not all actions interconnected? If I stabbed you would you not bleed and seek your revenge, hurting others as I hurt those around you?
I'm horrifically sorry, I fear I'm rambling. It's a nasty little habit I can't seem to break. Yet I will not scribble away any line for it is the truth pouring from my mind into our language, or as close as it can possibly get. Before I go into a tangent that will strain your nerves I must introduce myself, something I should've done from the beginning- Muddles, or as I was so long ago, in a different lifetime and with a different person so now the name is only a gurgle in a whishing well, Isolda Sparrow. Since then I've seen more than most ever will, have removed the typical tapestry on every cracked wall and let myself live more than five lifetimes, have been more ensnared with love than in the great fairytales, have battled shadows and emotion, have lost some and won some. And you?
Some write of happiness and glory, of fairytales and those characters created from perfection, the epitome of the hooded 'bad guy' and the protagonist.
Others write of darkness and hopelessness.
I write of both, of the truth. I write of reality, and what it took for me to learn it. If you are looking for perfect heroes and bad guys turn back now, for you will find none here. I have met the true hero's, who are anything but perfection, and have danced with evil itself, a darkness so deep I did not see its treachery before my very eyes. For there is a little of that golden haired good guy and that snarling antagonist in all of us, for without the light there would be darkness, and without the darkness, there'd be no light.
Some write to remember themselves.
Some write to a capture a time that's been lost and escape the chains of their world.
I write to leave an impression. To tell my story as it happened with no embellishments or sugar coats, to show the raw truth of New York and the impossibilities we all must face, the lessons we all must learn. I can only hope you will be spared of the tragic mistakes I made. I can only beg that it does not take tragedy and every tear that was shed, all the blood that was spilt, to see the light, to see the darkness, the strength and weakness, the ability for love and for hate that resides within us all. Don't let it demand such a price. Let me pay that price for you instead.
Before I go deeper, before I pull on the strings of memory and emotion and take you with me, let me ask you just this;
Can you trust me?
A/N- There was the first installment, this is only the prologue. Please review it, critique it, etc, and please add on to what you would like to appear in this story. I can't guarantee I will oblige, but I'm interested in what you, the readers, want to see. Thanks, and I hope this was an alright prologue.