Pandemonium broke out. People began talking frantically amongst
themselves. Jack turned icy eyes to Snipes, "How?"
"Suicide off the Brooklyn Bridge one of his own newsies saw him do it." Jack lit a cigarette. "Is there a new leader?"
"Yeah, Karth's taking over. He was second in command." Jack nodded, "Sounds about right. Did Spot leave a note?"
"Karth told me to give it to you, he's already read his." Snipes handed out a crumbled paper to Jack. Jack Kelly was written on the outside of it. Jack unfolded the note with shaking hands.
Jacky-boy,
Thought you deserved a letter. Maybe you're wondering why I did this, but I think you know. For one thing I've lived enough. I've seen enough of this world, I need the next one. I'm tired, so very tired of what has been given to me. I'm tired of ruling, of standing on a pedestal, of seeing others suffer while I can do nothing. I have nothing left to give. I'm not so great now am I? I'm sorry for taking the coward's way out. I never wanted to be a coward. I wanted you to know that some day you'll get your Santa Fe, maybe here is mine. It's sad to think death could bring happiness isn't it? But it has its brought calm. I never meant to hurt anyone by doing this, but it was something I had to do for myself.
Spot Conlon
I guess that is who I was, isn't it?
Jack stared at the letter, and then proceeded to crumple it up. "I'm leaving."
"Jack, don't do anything sudden." Jack frowned, "Shut up Race. I've wanted to do this since the day I was born." Jack stormed out of Tibby's. Race looked around, "What is he going to do?"
"We should probably just let him calm down, this hit him hard," this came from David Jacobs. There were nods of agreement throughout the store. Everyone had a quiet lunch the news of Spot's death had come as a shock.
Jack walked around New York crying. It wasn't the blubbering cry of a child cling to his mother, or the loud wails of someone in pain. It was silent, it was the last release of pain. Jack was confused he knew why Spot did what he did. It was too much, it was all too much. This wasn't just grieving for Jack anymore, this was the turning point. He had held on for too long.
Jack walked to the Jacob's apartment. He knew Sarah would be by the window, sewing dresses. He climbed the fire escape. Knocking on the window he saw Sarah smile and turn to meet his face. He mouthed roof to her and she nodded.
Jack sat on the roof smoking, Sarah approached him, and sitting down beside him she turned to him with innocent eyes. "What's wrong?"
"Spot's dead." Sarah's eyes widened, "What happened?"
"He killed himself." Sarah's eyes watered up, "Why?" Jack began to cry again, "Because he needed to." He turned to Sarah, "Do you love me?"
"Yes."
"Dead or alive?"
"Always." Jack kissed her with passion beyond that in dreams, breaking away he spoke to her, "I love you, more than I've loved anything in my life."
"I know that, I've always known that." Sarah kissed Jack, she kissed him with every molecule in her body. Jack kissed her back, as if she was the last thing he had. They sat holding each other for the longest time. Sarah fell asleep, and Jack detangled himself from her sleeping form. He stared at her longingly, "I'm sorry." He walked back to the lodging house. He has about an hour before the boys would return home.
************************************************************************ Katrina approached the lodging house. She had finished selling the afternoon addition and wanted to go to sleep. Deep, peaceful, dreamless sleep, smiling at Kloppman she headed upstairs. Opening the door she let out a scream. A scream that wracked her whole body, that ripped at her lungs, "Jack," she stuttered. Kloppman raced upstairs and stood behind her.
Walking over to the body she stroked his cold lips. Jack was hanging from a ceiling fan. A stool had been kicked out of the way. Around his neck suspending himself about a foot above the floor was his lasso. His cheeks were tearstained, as Katrina's began to be, "Jack." Kloppman stared at the body. He walked over to it fingering the rope he turned to her, "You didn't know him, when he was alive. He was such a great person when he was alive."
"What do you mean 'when he was alive,' I knew him when he was alive." Kloppman shook his head, "No you didn't, when you met him he was already dead." Katrina returned her eyes to the body. Hanging down Jack's back was his cowboy hat, a note was pinned to it, 'maybe I'll find Santa Fe here.' Kloppman cut the body down, and Katrina removed the hat, "We should send this to Sarah, I think she might want it."
"How do you know Sarah?" "He mentioned her today." Kloppman nodded and carried the hat and body downstairs.
A/N okay is it too fast now, is it. r/r flames are ok I'd flame me too if I were you and someone killed off a newsie I like. FAIR WARNING: if you don't like where it's headed stop reading, I hope you don't though (
"Suicide off the Brooklyn Bridge one of his own newsies saw him do it." Jack lit a cigarette. "Is there a new leader?"
"Yeah, Karth's taking over. He was second in command." Jack nodded, "Sounds about right. Did Spot leave a note?"
"Karth told me to give it to you, he's already read his." Snipes handed out a crumbled paper to Jack. Jack Kelly was written on the outside of it. Jack unfolded the note with shaking hands.
Jacky-boy,
Thought you deserved a letter. Maybe you're wondering why I did this, but I think you know. For one thing I've lived enough. I've seen enough of this world, I need the next one. I'm tired, so very tired of what has been given to me. I'm tired of ruling, of standing on a pedestal, of seeing others suffer while I can do nothing. I have nothing left to give. I'm not so great now am I? I'm sorry for taking the coward's way out. I never wanted to be a coward. I wanted you to know that some day you'll get your Santa Fe, maybe here is mine. It's sad to think death could bring happiness isn't it? But it has its brought calm. I never meant to hurt anyone by doing this, but it was something I had to do for myself.
Spot Conlon
I guess that is who I was, isn't it?
Jack stared at the letter, and then proceeded to crumple it up. "I'm leaving."
"Jack, don't do anything sudden." Jack frowned, "Shut up Race. I've wanted to do this since the day I was born." Jack stormed out of Tibby's. Race looked around, "What is he going to do?"
"We should probably just let him calm down, this hit him hard," this came from David Jacobs. There were nods of agreement throughout the store. Everyone had a quiet lunch the news of Spot's death had come as a shock.
Jack walked around New York crying. It wasn't the blubbering cry of a child cling to his mother, or the loud wails of someone in pain. It was silent, it was the last release of pain. Jack was confused he knew why Spot did what he did. It was too much, it was all too much. This wasn't just grieving for Jack anymore, this was the turning point. He had held on for too long.
Jack walked to the Jacob's apartment. He knew Sarah would be by the window, sewing dresses. He climbed the fire escape. Knocking on the window he saw Sarah smile and turn to meet his face. He mouthed roof to her and she nodded.
Jack sat on the roof smoking, Sarah approached him, and sitting down beside him she turned to him with innocent eyes. "What's wrong?"
"Spot's dead." Sarah's eyes widened, "What happened?"
"He killed himself." Sarah's eyes watered up, "Why?" Jack began to cry again, "Because he needed to." He turned to Sarah, "Do you love me?"
"Yes."
"Dead or alive?"
"Always." Jack kissed her with passion beyond that in dreams, breaking away he spoke to her, "I love you, more than I've loved anything in my life."
"I know that, I've always known that." Sarah kissed Jack, she kissed him with every molecule in her body. Jack kissed her back, as if she was the last thing he had. They sat holding each other for the longest time. Sarah fell asleep, and Jack detangled himself from her sleeping form. He stared at her longingly, "I'm sorry." He walked back to the lodging house. He has about an hour before the boys would return home.
************************************************************************ Katrina approached the lodging house. She had finished selling the afternoon addition and wanted to go to sleep. Deep, peaceful, dreamless sleep, smiling at Kloppman she headed upstairs. Opening the door she let out a scream. A scream that wracked her whole body, that ripped at her lungs, "Jack," she stuttered. Kloppman raced upstairs and stood behind her.
Walking over to the body she stroked his cold lips. Jack was hanging from a ceiling fan. A stool had been kicked out of the way. Around his neck suspending himself about a foot above the floor was his lasso. His cheeks were tearstained, as Katrina's began to be, "Jack." Kloppman stared at the body. He walked over to it fingering the rope he turned to her, "You didn't know him, when he was alive. He was such a great person when he was alive."
"What do you mean 'when he was alive,' I knew him when he was alive." Kloppman shook his head, "No you didn't, when you met him he was already dead." Katrina returned her eyes to the body. Hanging down Jack's back was his cowboy hat, a note was pinned to it, 'maybe I'll find Santa Fe here.' Kloppman cut the body down, and Katrina removed the hat, "We should send this to Sarah, I think she might want it."
"How do you know Sarah?" "He mentioned her today." Kloppman nodded and carried the hat and body downstairs.
A/N okay is it too fast now, is it. r/r flames are ok I'd flame me too if I were you and someone killed off a newsie I like. FAIR WARNING: if you don't like where it's headed stop reading, I hope you don't though (