Hey y'all! I haven't written anything for a long time, but I'm going to try to keep doing it. This story was written for the Newsies Pape Selling Competition, Circulation 4. Newsies doesn't belong to me, but if it did, it would probably not be as good as it is.
Task: Write about a newsie being a gang member before becoming a newsie, or something of the sort.
Words: 731
That being said, I hope you enjoy it!
It was a pleasant fall day in New York City, and a cool breeze weaved in between the buildings and all through the city. Racetrack, who had finished selling papes for the day, was walking down to the tracks to bet on whatever horse looked lucky, when out of the corner of his eye he noticed a boy standing across the street from him. Racetrack did a double take, as he knew this boy, and never expected that he'd see him again.
The boy had short, light blonde hair and blue eyes. He was kicking a can along with him as he went along on his way. Race was shocked.
This boy was supposed to be dead.
(line)
The year was 1894. 10 year old Anthony Higgins was sitting at the foot of his bed, tying his shoes. It was rather late at night, but there was somewhere he had to be. His gang was going to fight another one from 3 streets over for a block of territory. He and the rest of the boys who lived nearby were going to have a rumble.
Walking as quietly as possible so as not to wake his mother, Anthony slipped out the door and almost noiselessly shut it. He then began to walk down the street to the soon-to-be-partly-his turf. Everyone else was already there. Anthony was not among the oldest or the youngest of the gang, but he was among the shortest. Before long, the fight had begun.
As the chaos began, he noticed that most of the rival gang members had some sort of weapon. Anthony scrambled to pick up a broken brick that was lying in the corner of the lot. As soon as he had reached it though, another person had tackled him.
Kicking and scratching, both boys were putting up a good fight. However, Anthony had the brick. He smacked the brick as hard as he could into the other boy's chest. However, this did almost nothing except make the boy mad. With a yell, Anthony slammed the brick into the back of the boy's head, and he immediately stopped fighting. Then, he made a decision that he would regret for a long time afterwards. He did it again, just for good measure.
Blood was leaking from the back of the other boy's head, a stark contrast to his extremely light hair. Anthony's eyes widened. He turned the boy over and got no response. Shaking his enemy, whose name he didn't even know, Race began to feel panic setting in. He had just killed someone. He had taken someone's life, and that was unforgivable.
He couldn't stay here.
Deserting the fight, he sprinted as far as he could into the city, turning at random streets, and not even noticing if he was going into another gang's territory or if there were cops about. When he could run no more, he threw his brick as hard as he could down the street, losing it in the darkness.
Anthony fell onto his knees in the street, and couldn't keep from crying. He could never live with himself. Never. He had just killed someone, and for what? Some stupid patch of land that he could claim? He had murdered someone, and there was no crime worse than that.
What would his mother think?! She'd probably hear what he'd done and kick him straight out of the house. She'd hate him forever. Looking down at his shaking hands, it was then that Anthony decided.
He wasn't going home. Not tonight, and not ever. He sniffed and, using the back of his sleeve to wipe his tears, picked himself off the street to go sit in the nearest alley, maybe he could get some more sleep before morning.
(line)
Race stared at the boy across the street.
How was he alive? Race had killed him himself! Apparently, the boy noticed Race staring at him and also did a double take. The boy squinted, and upon realizing who he was, looked Race straight in the eye and extended his middle finger, before continuing on his way.
A wave of relief washed over Racetrack. He could sleep at night now, knowing that he hadn't killed anyone.
He kept walking, and hearing the jingle of a few coins in his pocket and starting to smell the familiar aroma of the tracks (a mix between cigar smoke and horse poop), Race was glad that he could finally leave his past behind him.
That's it! Sorry if it sounds a little rushed.
By the way, most of the research I did was from a book called "Children of the City" by David Nasaw. It's really good and I would recommend it to any Newsies fan who wanted to know more about the real life equivalent. Hope you enjoyed!