Tibby's was only one of the nearly empty diners that night. We didn't know
it yet, but all over the city people were 'disappearing' into thin air.
Well, more of dragged into a dead-end alley never to come out again. At
least not for many years.
___________________The Past____________________
"Hey, did you see Charley at all today?" Michael asked absent-mindedly. Charley is-well, was-my closest friend. I never found her, though she had been among those who had vanished.
"Nah, I don't believe I have," I replied in a mock British accent. It's part of a long-running joke started when we met Spot's British 'goil'. That was before she knew to mask it. "But then, I hardly ever do, because she's always with that boy a hers."
"Yeah, what was his name?" Michael asked. "Racetrack, right?" Race was the only Manhattan boy I'd ever really talked to. We'd met once when I had attempted to sell out at SheepsHead. I'd left that situation with a black eye, but no hard feelings. I'd invaded his 'spot', I had it comin'.
"I don't remember," I said, the accent gone now. It can only go so long before it gets annoying. "Maybe it's that one called Jack?"
"No," he responded, "Definitely not. He's still mourning the loss of Sarah."
Every one hated Sarah, save for Jack. Didn't know him well, but got to in the following years. He was a Brit. After Spot's girl for a long time now. He knew Blink, leader of the strike. Another biff on the producers, Jack did jack.
We miss Blink, nobody knows exactly what happened. Fell off a cable car, they say it was bloody. The Delancey's were coincidentally on the car, too.
"Now I think of it," Mike said out of the blue after one of those never ending pauses, "There's a bunch of newskids I haven't seen today."
"This coming from the not-so social butterfly?" I inquired. I'm well aware of the fact that Mike may not 'know' a bunch of people, but he knows who everybody is and is always sure of where most of them are.
"Yeah, this here's," he pauses and makes a motion to signify himself, "Is the social fly on the wall. Ever aware of his surroundings, and still knows so few of the people." See what I mean? Funny as any stand up of 'today'. God I miss him.
"Yeah, whatever, fly-boy. We gotta get going, it's getting dangerously close to curfew."
"Sure," he says, standing quickly. "Fly away!" he says in a high- pitched helium voice. I laugh and we leave and head home.
The next day the headlines are better. Disappearances all over the place.
___________________~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~____________________
Yes, this chapter was short, but time is too. Please, please throw no rotten fruit. I don't have any time for shout outs, cuz I gotta work on my other ff. As I'm hoping you've noticed, I put chapter three in the wrong story. I apologize, and may I point out my hair color? (it's blonde, though I'm considering going brunette). Enough of that. I'm leaving now. Bye.
___________________The Past____________________
"Hey, did you see Charley at all today?" Michael asked absent-mindedly. Charley is-well, was-my closest friend. I never found her, though she had been among those who had vanished.
"Nah, I don't believe I have," I replied in a mock British accent. It's part of a long-running joke started when we met Spot's British 'goil'. That was before she knew to mask it. "But then, I hardly ever do, because she's always with that boy a hers."
"Yeah, what was his name?" Michael asked. "Racetrack, right?" Race was the only Manhattan boy I'd ever really talked to. We'd met once when I had attempted to sell out at SheepsHead. I'd left that situation with a black eye, but no hard feelings. I'd invaded his 'spot', I had it comin'.
"I don't remember," I said, the accent gone now. It can only go so long before it gets annoying. "Maybe it's that one called Jack?"
"No," he responded, "Definitely not. He's still mourning the loss of Sarah."
Every one hated Sarah, save for Jack. Didn't know him well, but got to in the following years. He was a Brit. After Spot's girl for a long time now. He knew Blink, leader of the strike. Another biff on the producers, Jack did jack.
We miss Blink, nobody knows exactly what happened. Fell off a cable car, they say it was bloody. The Delancey's were coincidentally on the car, too.
"Now I think of it," Mike said out of the blue after one of those never ending pauses, "There's a bunch of newskids I haven't seen today."
"This coming from the not-so social butterfly?" I inquired. I'm well aware of the fact that Mike may not 'know' a bunch of people, but he knows who everybody is and is always sure of where most of them are.
"Yeah, this here's," he pauses and makes a motion to signify himself, "Is the social fly on the wall. Ever aware of his surroundings, and still knows so few of the people." See what I mean? Funny as any stand up of 'today'. God I miss him.
"Yeah, whatever, fly-boy. We gotta get going, it's getting dangerously close to curfew."
"Sure," he says, standing quickly. "Fly away!" he says in a high- pitched helium voice. I laugh and we leave and head home.
The next day the headlines are better. Disappearances all over the place.
___________________~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~____________________
Yes, this chapter was short, but time is too. Please, please throw no rotten fruit. I don't have any time for shout outs, cuz I gotta work on my other ff. As I'm hoping you've noticed, I put chapter three in the wrong story. I apologize, and may I point out my hair color? (it's blonde, though I'm considering going brunette). Enough of that. I'm leaving now. Bye.
