Disclaimer: I don't own Specs, Disney does. The poem used here was written
by Nikki Grimes, and can be found in the book Bronx Masquerade. Now, read
my story!
Note: This is my first fic, please be nice! Now, enjoy.
My One and Only
Instead of selling his papers as he usually did mornings, Specs walked a few blocks to a small red brick apartment he knew so well. The wooden sign read South Street Orphanage, and the black fire escape beckoned to him. He slowly lifted his brown shoes, and made his way to the bottom of the stairs. He took one step, and then another, stepping up, bit by bit pushing his way to the 6th story window above him.
If I stood on tiptoe
Reached up and sculpted
Mountains from clouds
Would you laugh out loud?
In his mind, he heard the sweet melody of her laugh, and a small tear ran down his cheek. He took off his glasses and wiped it away, and looked up, and saw he was almost at the window where she sat. Sweet memories rehearsed through his head, and he sat down peering through the window to the room where she used to sit. In his mind, he saw her small, pixie-like face with her long straight blond hanging down her back, and her brown eyes shining as she excitedly told him about her day. He would smile, and tell her the adventures he had that day, being a newsie, and she would smile and laugh that laugh that he loved so much, and begged him to take her with him, away from that place. But he would look at her sadly, and explain that all that being a newsie gave him was a dime a day and a few black eyes, he didn't have the money. And she would shake her head, and say 'Tomorrow, you will come and take me away'
If I dipped my brush in starlight
Painted a ribbon of night On your windowsill
Would you still laugh?
Specs faithfully sat at that windowsill everyday, after selling the morning edition, and twice a day when she fell ill, trying to conquer the disease that left her frail body sweat-drenched and exhausted. He looked through the bars as the disease stole the glow from her cheeks and the light from her eyes. On that step, he sat, even when the doctors came in and shook their heads; there was nothing that they could do. He even didn't eat for a week, so he could pay for doctors to come to her aid, to save the only reason that he was still living. There he sat faithfully everyday, and what did it ever bring to him but heartache?
If I drew you adrift
In a pen and ink sea In a raging storm Would you laugh at me? He sat on that step when her little heart gave out, and there he sat and cried when her last words were spoken 'I love you' He watched the shiny oak coffin being delivered, and her nightgown clad, pale body was placed into its velvet cushion. He painfully watched the lid close, and took one last glimpse at the person closest to his heart
If I planted watercolor roses
In your garden Would you laugh then? Or would you breathe deep To sample their scent I wonder. He took one last look at the white room where she stayed, and started to climb down the steps, going back to the Lodging House, where he would paint a picture to mark the anniversary of her death. He glanced behind him at the building that contained his emotions. One year. One year since his bright eyed little sister, left him, and left him emotionless and sad. He had closure, and now, he could cry. One last year of sadness. Specs finally felt free of the shackles that contained him. I love you too my little sister
Now.be a good person and review!
Note: This is my first fic, please be nice! Now, enjoy.
My One and Only
Instead of selling his papers as he usually did mornings, Specs walked a few blocks to a small red brick apartment he knew so well. The wooden sign read South Street Orphanage, and the black fire escape beckoned to him. He slowly lifted his brown shoes, and made his way to the bottom of the stairs. He took one step, and then another, stepping up, bit by bit pushing his way to the 6th story window above him.
If I stood on tiptoe
Reached up and sculpted
Mountains from clouds
Would you laugh out loud?
In his mind, he heard the sweet melody of her laugh, and a small tear ran down his cheek. He took off his glasses and wiped it away, and looked up, and saw he was almost at the window where she sat. Sweet memories rehearsed through his head, and he sat down peering through the window to the room where she used to sit. In his mind, he saw her small, pixie-like face with her long straight blond hanging down her back, and her brown eyes shining as she excitedly told him about her day. He would smile, and tell her the adventures he had that day, being a newsie, and she would smile and laugh that laugh that he loved so much, and begged him to take her with him, away from that place. But he would look at her sadly, and explain that all that being a newsie gave him was a dime a day and a few black eyes, he didn't have the money. And she would shake her head, and say 'Tomorrow, you will come and take me away'
If I dipped my brush in starlight
Painted a ribbon of night On your windowsill
Would you still laugh?
Specs faithfully sat at that windowsill everyday, after selling the morning edition, and twice a day when she fell ill, trying to conquer the disease that left her frail body sweat-drenched and exhausted. He looked through the bars as the disease stole the glow from her cheeks and the light from her eyes. On that step, he sat, even when the doctors came in and shook their heads; there was nothing that they could do. He even didn't eat for a week, so he could pay for doctors to come to her aid, to save the only reason that he was still living. There he sat faithfully everyday, and what did it ever bring to him but heartache?
If I drew you adrift
In a pen and ink sea In a raging storm Would you laugh at me? He sat on that step when her little heart gave out, and there he sat and cried when her last words were spoken 'I love you' He watched the shiny oak coffin being delivered, and her nightgown clad, pale body was placed into its velvet cushion. He painfully watched the lid close, and took one last glimpse at the person closest to his heart
If I planted watercolor roses
In your garden Would you laugh then? Or would you breathe deep To sample their scent I wonder. He took one last look at the white room where she stayed, and started to climb down the steps, going back to the Lodging House, where he would paint a picture to mark the anniversary of her death. He glanced behind him at the building that contained his emotions. One year. One year since his bright eyed little sister, left him, and left him emotionless and sad. He had closure, and now, he could cry. One last year of sadness. Specs finally felt free of the shackles that contained him. I love you too my little sister
Now.be a good person and review!