GOOD MORNING!
Yeah, I tend to write these late at night (or REALLY early in the
morning, depending on your perspective). Well, let's hope the SOs
don't mess up this time.
Sureshot Higgins: YAY!! I GET TO PLAY IN THE CLOSET!!! Tumbler will be one of the last ones because of his age, I am doing this according to who came first. There aren't much more to go, though. I think only two more chapters before I get to his.
BlackFire: WOO HOO!!! YOU HAVE A CLOSET! Don't freak out Skittery with any new moves…he is a fragile child. I gave Itey a hug too…it was national hug Itey day.
Sqky0o7: WHAT IN THE HELL ARE YOU LAUGHING ABOUT???? HEHEHE!
Ponine: Hiding with Specs is a hobby of mine…it passes the time. Happy you got the pick-pocket connection! I AM SO HAPPY YOU LIKED THE ITEY CHAPTER! I didn't want to disappoint his ultimate "goil".
Raven: HE DOESN'T NEED ROOM TO BREATHE!!! Mmmmm….fries. EVIL TEMPTRESS!!!
Thumbsucker Snitch: Insanity is a much better asset than respect. To hell with respect! DAMN THE MAN! DOWN WITH THE STATUS QUO!
Klover: I LIKE YOUR FIC! Oh, I now belong to a lodging house. I'll e-mail you the address if you want.
Gretch: MY ENDINGS!! YOU'LL CORRUPT THEM AND TURN THEM INTO EVIL ENDING BEASTS!!!
Spatz: GO SPATZ! KILL HIS PARENTS! ATTACK!! I am so happy you liked it!!!
Southern Spell: HAPPY YOU LIKED THEM! Oh, and your singing is LOVERLY!
Unnamed: A vampire, eh? :::hold up stake::: Come here, vampy vampy vampy. I won't hurt you. MWAHAHAHAHA!!!
Jo: I am SOOOOO happy you liked Itey!! It kind of made me nervous because he didn't seem like such a serious character. THANK YOU SOOOOOOOOOOO MUCH FOR ALL THE COMPLIMENTS!!! I GOT ALL TEARY WHEN I READ YOUR REVIEW! YOU GET A WALK-IN CLOSET FOR YOU AND MUSH!!
AND THANKS TO EVERYONE ELSE WHO READ IT!!! HERE IS CHAPTER 16!!!
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Malnutrition was a disease that strangled the poor, deprived people
of New York. Why is it the best of them are devoured by it, leaving
their offspring to wander the world alone? His mother was sick, her
chest heaving violently every time she coughed. The young woman's
red hair lay matted with sweat from fever as her husband watched
over their sickly child. Her son had to get away from here, away
from the disease that was choking her and had a firm grip on her
husband. As she felt the cold hand of death approach, she asked for
her child to be taken somewhere, safe from illness that thrived in
these poor conditions. Her son was already showing signs of
weakness, and she couldn't bear to have his life be cut short like
so many other children around them. This was her last request, her
swan song, as she closed her eyes and made her transition into the
world of angels.
People aren't kinder to you if you are ill. At least, not in foster
homes. The other children tease because you can't walk properly
while the adults call you useless and a waste of life. Contrary to
what people say, words hurt. They may not leave bruises on your
skin, but they scar your heart, and those wounds never heal. Not
completely, anyway. Someone can only handle being called worthless
so many times before they feel the need to leave, choosing to face
the harsh world around him instead of stay and face another spiteful
comment.
He made a life for himself begging on the streets. Though often
called "cripple", he preferred this life. He slept where he could
and ate when he had the money. It wasn't glamorous by any means, but
it was a way of living, and of the two he knew, it was the better
choice. It's rare when a newsie has the money to offer a stranger,
yet the headlines where good because of the war, and Jack seemed to
be in a considerably good mood. He flicked a few pennies towards the
young vagabond and soon found himself lost in conversation with him.
Cowboy told him there was a better way to live, and, if he wanted,
he was welcome to come to the lodging house and sell papers.
Grateful, he joined as soon as he could, using the money he had
acquired that day from begging to pay for his first week. He finally
had shelter, and here no one called him useless.
It was strange, his poor physical state seemed to be an asset for
him selling papers, and the tips where always good. He did have
trouble walking, usually coming back to the lodging house exhausted,
his bad leg throbbing from the pressure he was forced to put on it.
The boys decided to save their money, choosing to forgo meals when
eating didn't seem necessary. Within a week, they presented their
new friend with his first gift, a crutch. It made the job easier to
bear and even gave him his nickname, Crutchy.
They all grow up and feel the need to leave. Crutchy had been a
constant companion and had the ability to make the day brighter. I
was going to miss that. However, sooner or later they grow up and
have to get on with their lives. He would find his own way, and,
crutch in hand, he left the lodging house in search of his place in
the world.
Crutchy always felt the need to help others. It was in his very
nature. In this time, help was needed more than ever with a war
overseas. The Great War, we called it. He couldn't fight, he hadn't
been able to as a newsboy and certainly couldn't now. Yet, he
offered his services in another way, as a war doctor. I guess that's
what they refer to them as. He bandaged wounded soldiers, becoming
their companion and a friendly face when they felt lost and alone.
War is cruel, yet they had Crutchy. I can just imagine him telling
them about new York as they reminisce about their own hometown, and
I know his mother is looking down on him, truly proud of the man he
has become.
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There is Crutchy. Only a few more to go! There might be 22 instead
of 21, I was thinking of combining 2, but still not sure. Oh well.
I'll worry about that when I come to it. :::ventures back into
closet:::
Stretch