Here is my new mystery! Sort of inspired by 'Tears from the Moon' by Dimensional Traveller, but not along the same plot line. Mine is very different, but does involve ghosts of Spot and his past girlfriend (Sort of)

Christa is based on the lovely Christina Conlon.

Nona is based on my grandmother, Mamma2.

In chapter 2: Demi is based on Dimensional Traveller! Thanks!

Disclaimer: No I do not own Newsies (If I did, I would be working on getting the old cast together for a sequel)

REVIEWS!


"Dead?" the word echoed through the alleyways of New York City. It was the constant reminder of Brooklyn's grief. "He can't be dead he's…he's him. He is utterly indestructible, inhuman, and immortal! He's…dead." It was supposed to be impossible! But if you pass the cemetery on Grey Road and Apple Street, you'll see it. You'll see the gravestone with his name on it; and next to it, her headstone. Inseparable even in death.

And after death.

I sat on the couch with a steaming mug of tea on a Saturday morning. My black cat, Aladdin, was purring up a storm on my lap. I held my book in my hands, Pulitzer: a life in Politics and Print. It was boring as all get-out. But I wanted to learn as much as I could about his life for a school project about the newsboy's strike of 1899. I set the book down and looked around the bare Brooklyn apartment.

My parents were in Kenya, volunteering as doctors in some rural village. I knew it was just for their image, why would two world renowned doctors need to go to Kenya? Only for their precious image, to make them look like the caring people they weren't. They had decided that I was mature for my age (16) and left me alone in the city for the three months they would be gone. Of course I had Nona, my grandmother on my mother's side, to stop by every few days. She knew everything about the family's history and the history of New York itself. I loved her very much and looked upon her as a mother, more so than my own constantly absent one.

It was on this dreary October day when I walked to the new Antique store that had opened down the road. On the window was a sign 'Specializing in 1899-1920 artifacts'. Maybe there was something around the time of Pulitzer! Maybe they had some World clippings inside! I stepped over the rise on the step, and began looking around. The slight elderly woman at the front desk looked at me suspiciously before warning me to "Be careful."

I found some laminated newspaper clippings. There was a New York Sun a Journal and finally, a World. I picked up the World and skimmed it. It was boring 'Trolley Strike Drags on for Third Week' the Sun was much more interesting. 'Children's Crusade: Newsies Stop the World'. I looked at the faded and yellowed picture. Several confused looking teenage boys grouped on a platform of some sort. In the middle was a smiling boy, the only one who looked like he knew what he was doing. Next to him was a boy grimacing in pain and grabbing his foot. I snickered a little at this.

"Careful with those, they're from 1899!" Desk Lady said snappishly.

"Yes Ma'am. I'll try my best to be as gentle as possible," I said softly, rather like an intimidated child.

"See that you do," she wasn't as bitter looking now, and her gaze softened. "That's my great-grandfather in the center of that very photo. Jack Kelley, the leader of the Manhattan newsies."

"They really did something great," I said. Another boy caught my eye. He was shorter than Jack, and was standing next to a boy with an eye patch. He looked rather dazed, his arm bent as a younger boy hung from his elbow; and his mouth was slightly agape.

"Who is that?" I asked, looking through the list of names at the bottom of the picture to locate him.

"Who?" Desk Lady walked over and I pointed. She smiled. "That, young lady, is Spot Conlon. The infamous ladies' man of Brooklyn! Our very own little king," she motioned around the room. "This used to be a Lodging House for him and his newsies," she said. I looked around, noticing the stairs in the corner that were roped off.

"I hate to prod, but why is that area roped off?" I asked. She frowned for a second, before motioning for me to follow her. I set the clipping down in its original spot and followed her up the staircase.

"This is the section I save for really special customers. You seem interested in the newsies' life. So you can see it," it's a good thing I brought some money with me.

"This is where Spot stayed; the others were in a bunk room. In the small room was a shelf. It was covered in old hats. Black, brown, gray, blue, a faded yellow one. I picked up a forlorn gray cabby cap and turned to the Desk Lady.

"How much is this one?" I asked. She turned to me absentmindedly. She looked up at my face and froze. I heard her gasp and I saw her begin to shake. "Are you alright?" I asked.

"Y-Y-Yes," she said. "That hat was Spot's. It's $100. For you? $80," she said, regaining her normal business like composure.

"Thank you," I handed her the money and headed back to my apartment for a hot shower and a good night's sleep.

DESK LADY'S POV

I was taking this little misfit to my most coveted artifact room. This store room was where only newsies things were displayed for my more trusted and adult customers. Most of them were disregarded as fakes by my collector friends, but I knew better. The girl looked around in awe and admiration. I was distracted by a hat arrangement. "How much is this one?" she asked. I looked over. Instead of the girl…there was a boy.

It was the boy from the clipping of the Sun, Spot Conlon. He was smirking at me from the side of his mouth, his hat in his hands. Then he faded away, as if he was fading into the girl. When his figure was gone, the girl was standing there staring at me.

"Are you alright?" she asked. Concern laced her tone.

"Y-Y-Yes," I said, trying to remember how to breathe. "That hat was Spot's. It's $100. For you? $80," I struck an unusual deal. Surely the specter was a sign.

"Thank you," she handed me the money and left my shop. I think I need to take a nap, and maybe some Aspirin.

CHRISTA'S POV

I lay in bed, looking over at the hat. I had left it sitting lonely on my bedside table; it seemed to give off an eerie aura of authority. Which was impossible, it's only a hat! But it was Spot Conlon's hat. That must mean something. I thought I saw the figure of a boy by the hat, but my eyes closed and I was pulled into a dream.


I am sitting in the same room as the lady showed me today. I am wearing an odd dress from the early 20th century, or late 19th century. I am sitting on a wooden bed covered with a thin blanket. It seems like an odd case of déjà vu and the edge of my vision is slightly blurred. I remember this, but I've never been here before. The door to the room opens and I stand up against my will. I am not controlling myself. The dream is. The person who entered is the boy from the picture, Spot Conlon. I hear my mouth form words,"You're alright!" in relief I don't understand. Why am I saying these things? What is that feeling in the pit of my stomach? Do I lovehim?

"Me? Ise glad dat youse is alright! I thought youse was dead!" I realize that the boy has several cuts on his face.

"But you were hurt! I'm so sorry I got into that mess," I am crying now. I feel sad and I don't know why.

"Jewel," he says softly, as if the word were a caress. Jewel? "I will protect youse forever and always. Ain't no one in da woild dat can harm youse, not while I'm around. Dead or alive, I'll be dere foah youse, I promise!"

We lean towards each other, his arms wrapping around my waist. I feel so warm and safe…


Something fell onto my face and I sat up with a start. Aladdin. He meowed angrily and pawed at my hair. I sighed and stood up. It was already morning and he was probably hungry. I stumbled into the kitchen and opened the cupboard. I measured out the cat food and put it into his little green dish. A few pieces scattered across the linoleum and I smiled to myself as Aladdin chased after them. I heard a knock at the door and went to open it, rubbing the sleep from my eyes as I went. Nona stood in the doorway, her white hair up in a pony tail.

"Hello Nona," I said with a yawn.

"Good morning sleepyhead," she laughed.

"Guess what I found at an antique store," I said, running to grab my hat.

"Something your parents probably don't want around the house?" she asked teasingly. I shook my head and pulled the hat out from behind my back.

"Genuine history. This used to belong to a newsie from 1899!" I put it on my head. Nona gasped sharply and took a few steps back, her eyes wide and her hand over her heart. I ran towards her and wrapped my arms around her, the hat falling to the ground.

"Are you alright?" I asked. "You look like you saw a ghost!"

"I-I think I did," she said shakily as she sat down on the couch.

"What do you mean? This is the second time someone's reacted like that when I was holding or wearing the hat!" I said.

"When you put it on your head, there…there was a boy. He was wearing red suspenders, brown trousers, and a gingham shirt. He had very; very blue eyes and he smirked at me! Then he disappeared, as if he was going into the hat. Strange," she muttered the last word under her breath.

"Spot," I said, remembering his clothing from the picture. It wasn't in color, but it had shown a boy wearing gingham and suspenders.

"Who?" Nona's face was aghast as if I had said 'Open sesame' and our T.V. turned to gold.

"Spot Conlon, the leader of Brooklyn," I said.

"How do you know about him?" she asked.

"That's his hat," I said, leaning over the arm of the couch to retrieve it from the floor.

"Do you know about your great-great grandmother? My great-grandmother?" she asked.

"Not really, her name was Jacqueline right?" I asked to make sure.

"Yes, she had a sister," Nona nodded somberly.

"I never heard about her sister," I said.

"She's not spoken of often. She died at age 15, she was murdered," Nona said softly.

"By who?" I was curious now, sad about her early death, but curious as to why she died.

"Many people believe it was one of the Delancy brothers, but I think it was a jealous rival from Queens, Monster. He was their leader, and had quite a thing for Jewel," Nona nodded knowingly.

"So Jewel was murdered, what happened to Spot?" I asked.

"He was killed before Jewel was," Nona saddened.

"Do you have any albums or anything? Did they have any pictures?" I asked hopefully.

"Yes, I do believe so," Nona muttered, "I'll bring them over tomorrow!" she gave me a kiss and a hug and left for her apartment on the other side of Brooklyn. I sat back down with my book, wondering about the mysterious deaths of my ancestors. Why was Spot coming back now? Why was Jewel murdered if Monster loved her? How was Spot murdered?

I found that I couldn't read with all of this going on in my head, and settled onto the couch with a movie. I plugged myself into my newest favorite movie: Lord Of The Rings…and promptly fell back into a dream:


I am standing in an alleyway, Spot is being held back by five boys far larger and stronger than him. The three he managed to fight off are nursing injuries on the ground. A boy I know is named Monster is holding my wrists and pushing me up against a cold brick wall. Another strange flashback-dream. "Hello Jewel," Monster croons.

"I hate you!" I spit in his face. He shoves me back roughly.

"You shouldn't have done that," he says and looks back at his goons. He nods. One of them hits Spot, Spot grunts and grimaces. I forgot about Spot!

"What do you want Monster?" I ask warily.

"You to marry me, toots," he says.

"I'm only fifteen!" I protest.

"It's not unheard of," he shrugs.

"Promise to leave Spot alone," I say softly.

"NO! Jewel! Don't do it! I'll be fine," Spot shouts angrily. Why can't someone hear us? Is the alleyway being guarded? Most likely.

"I promise," Monster sneers as I hear Spot grunt again.

"Fine," I say, resigned to my fate as the wife of a monster named Monster.

"Jewel," I hear Spot groan. I turn to him, but it's too late. Spot lies facedown on the ground, a knife protruding from his back.

"SPOT!" I scream, leaping away from Monster in a burst of energy. I am at Spot's side, holding his head tenderly in my lap.

"I love you! Don't leave me!" I cry out in a strangled tone. It feels like my heart has been cut out and smashed.

"I…love…you…Jewel," Spot gasps. I hear Monster's cruel laugh from behind me. "I…promised," and then my beloved is gone.

"I HATE YOU!"I pull the knife from Spot's back and turn on Monster in fury. He is dead before I he can register what did. I run from the alleyway.


I am awake, and breathing hard. The hat is in my lap. My legs are cramped from being on the couch for so long. The credits to LOTR are rolling lazily on the screen, the background music blaring annoyingly. I flip off my television and go upstairs to shower. My back hurts and my head aches. These dreams are stressful. I am seeing history in my sleep. Spot wants to tell me something…what?