Disclaimer: This is an older story that I haven't worked on in a while, but if I get lots of reviews I might just keep working on it *hint hint* lol. I don't own Spot or any of the newsie boys. (Yes this is a Spot romance even though there's like a bazillion of them, oh well.) This is also a Mary Sue, even though I look nothing like Eve (I wish I did lol). I do own Eve (Tacit), the plot, and the DISCLAIMER! Please tell me whatcha think. Enjoy and review :) Oh, I've finally figured out the ending lol, I think you'll be surprised...
Smile,
~Sprite~
Tacit Night
The night was cold as frost, and the sky was clear. A perfect night to gaze at the stars. Spot Conlon would never tell anyone, but secretly, he loved the stars. They were permanent beauty, and always there waiting for him. Sometimes, Spot would sit outside recanting his problems to the stars, other times, he would just come out to sit and think, away from his boys, his city. Tonight was one of those thinking nights.
Eve Maxwell was running as fast as her legs would take her wincing in pain with every step. The beatings were getting worse each day, as was her mother's insistence of her marriage to David. Tonight had been the final straw. After her father bruised her rib, gave her a black eye, bruised her face, and cut her arms, legs, and stomach, Eve knew she had to run away before he killed her. She packed a small bag consisting of a pair of clothes, and a small picture frame showing herself and another young girl, and climbed out the window using a rope made of bed sheets tied together. Her parents wouldn't notice her until morning when they would fetch her to clean. She had a few hours head start, and wasn't going to waste her precious time sleeping until she was out of the Bronx.
Spot looked at his small pocket watch and jumped up. He had been so busy looking at the stars, he hadn't noticed how late it had gotten. The short but tough leader of Brooklyn stood up from his spot near the river and started walking back to the Lodging House. About ten minutes into his journey home, Spot was knocked roughly on the ground.
"Hey, watch weah you'se going." Spot said gruffly to the person who had knocked him over.
"I'm so sorry." Eve said extending her hand to the young man she had run into. She had been moving so fast and not paying any attention to where she was going that she ran into some one. Spot was so surprised by the quiet voice of his "attacker" that he looked up sharply. His eyes locked onto the most amazing eyes he had ever seen before. They were a deep mix of silver, and green. Spot was captivated by her gaze until she spoke again.
"Are you all right?" The young woman asked.
"Yeah, I'se fine. Ah you'se okay?" Spot asked, admiring the young woman standing before him. She was about the same height as he was, and dressed like she was running away.
She wore dark pants and a dark grey shirt. The pants emphasized her hips slightly, while the shirt gave teasing hints about her chest. Eve didn't notice SpotÕs roving eyes since she had averted her own before answering.
"I'm fine thank you. If you don't mind I'll be..." Eve didn't get to finish what she was saying before she collapsed. Luckily, Spot was in just the right place to catch her before she hit the pavement. Spot instantly picked her up and swore noticing for the first time her deep cuts and bruises. He started carrying her to the safest place he knew, the Manhattan Boarding House.
Albert Kloppman, the owner of the Manhattan Boarding House, was just about to go to bed when he heard a soft knocking at the back door. Knowing it could be trouble, Kloppman ran to the door, and threw it open. Standing on the doorstep, was Spot Conlon, leader of the Brooklyn Newsies, carrying what appeared to be a young woman, but he almost couldn't be positive from all the cuts and bruises on her face.
"What happened?" Kloppman asked immediately concerned.
"I dunno. One minute I'se outside, de next she bahals (barrels) into me like a soul ouddah hell. Den she collapses and I sees all dah bruises on 'a." Spot said hurriedly, still holding onto the girl like she was a precious treasure. "Not to be rude Kloppy, but can you'se tell me wheahs to put 'a so I'se don't drop 'a?" Kloppman's face softened, and he pointed the way to the upstairs guest room used for just such an occasion.
"You gonna be needin' some watah and bandages?" Kloppman asked Spot, checking if the young man was indeed going to watch after the girl and stay the night.
"O' couhse." Spot said shaking his head. Spot started up the steps before he turned around quickly. "Oh, an' tell Jacky-boy when he wakes up, that I'se upstaihs, but don't tell no one else. Got it?" Kloppman nodded, used to Spot's rather rash actions.
Spot carefully carried the young woman's body up the stairs. "What's yoah story goil? Why da you'se gots dem bruises all ovah you'se?" Spot asked the unconscious girl in his arms. Once he reached the guest room, he turned on the lights and lay the girl on the bed, in an effort to examine all of the damage. *She shoah is beautiful,* Spot thought. In the light, Spot could see all of the horrible bruises marring her body, but he could also see the details of her hair and clothing better. The girl wasn't wearing a grey shirt, but a very dirty white one. Her hair which he originally placed to be dark brown, was not completely brown, in actuality, it was a mix looking more like dark auburn than just plain brown. She looked to be around sixteen or seventeen, "too young to be out on the streets of Brooklyn alone." Spot contemplated. Just then, Kloppman entered, tearing Spot out of his thoughts.
"Heah's some stuff foah you. Sleep well Spot." Kloppman said before leaving just as quickly as he entered.
"T'anks," Spot said to the air, before getting to work on the young woman's cuts. "T'ank god she's asleep so she can't feel this, 'cause it's gotta hoit like hell." Several hours later, Spot was asleep in a chair next to the bed occupied by the mystery girl, who was also sleeping.
TBC maybe. Hope you liked it :)
~Sprite~
Smile,
~Sprite~
Tacit Night
The night was cold as frost, and the sky was clear. A perfect night to gaze at the stars. Spot Conlon would never tell anyone, but secretly, he loved the stars. They were permanent beauty, and always there waiting for him. Sometimes, Spot would sit outside recanting his problems to the stars, other times, he would just come out to sit and think, away from his boys, his city. Tonight was one of those thinking nights.
Eve Maxwell was running as fast as her legs would take her wincing in pain with every step. The beatings were getting worse each day, as was her mother's insistence of her marriage to David. Tonight had been the final straw. After her father bruised her rib, gave her a black eye, bruised her face, and cut her arms, legs, and stomach, Eve knew she had to run away before he killed her. She packed a small bag consisting of a pair of clothes, and a small picture frame showing herself and another young girl, and climbed out the window using a rope made of bed sheets tied together. Her parents wouldn't notice her until morning when they would fetch her to clean. She had a few hours head start, and wasn't going to waste her precious time sleeping until she was out of the Bronx.
Spot looked at his small pocket watch and jumped up. He had been so busy looking at the stars, he hadn't noticed how late it had gotten. The short but tough leader of Brooklyn stood up from his spot near the river and started walking back to the Lodging House. About ten minutes into his journey home, Spot was knocked roughly on the ground.
"Hey, watch weah you'se going." Spot said gruffly to the person who had knocked him over.
"I'm so sorry." Eve said extending her hand to the young man she had run into. She had been moving so fast and not paying any attention to where she was going that she ran into some one. Spot was so surprised by the quiet voice of his "attacker" that he looked up sharply. His eyes locked onto the most amazing eyes he had ever seen before. They were a deep mix of silver, and green. Spot was captivated by her gaze until she spoke again.
"Are you all right?" The young woman asked.
"Yeah, I'se fine. Ah you'se okay?" Spot asked, admiring the young woman standing before him. She was about the same height as he was, and dressed like she was running away.
She wore dark pants and a dark grey shirt. The pants emphasized her hips slightly, while the shirt gave teasing hints about her chest. Eve didn't notice SpotÕs roving eyes since she had averted her own before answering.
"I'm fine thank you. If you don't mind I'll be..." Eve didn't get to finish what she was saying before she collapsed. Luckily, Spot was in just the right place to catch her before she hit the pavement. Spot instantly picked her up and swore noticing for the first time her deep cuts and bruises. He started carrying her to the safest place he knew, the Manhattan Boarding House.
Albert Kloppman, the owner of the Manhattan Boarding House, was just about to go to bed when he heard a soft knocking at the back door. Knowing it could be trouble, Kloppman ran to the door, and threw it open. Standing on the doorstep, was Spot Conlon, leader of the Brooklyn Newsies, carrying what appeared to be a young woman, but he almost couldn't be positive from all the cuts and bruises on her face.
"What happened?" Kloppman asked immediately concerned.
"I dunno. One minute I'se outside, de next she bahals (barrels) into me like a soul ouddah hell. Den she collapses and I sees all dah bruises on 'a." Spot said hurriedly, still holding onto the girl like she was a precious treasure. "Not to be rude Kloppy, but can you'se tell me wheahs to put 'a so I'se don't drop 'a?" Kloppman's face softened, and he pointed the way to the upstairs guest room used for just such an occasion.
"You gonna be needin' some watah and bandages?" Kloppman asked Spot, checking if the young man was indeed going to watch after the girl and stay the night.
"O' couhse." Spot said shaking his head. Spot started up the steps before he turned around quickly. "Oh, an' tell Jacky-boy when he wakes up, that I'se upstaihs, but don't tell no one else. Got it?" Kloppman nodded, used to Spot's rather rash actions.
Spot carefully carried the young woman's body up the stairs. "What's yoah story goil? Why da you'se gots dem bruises all ovah you'se?" Spot asked the unconscious girl in his arms. Once he reached the guest room, he turned on the lights and lay the girl on the bed, in an effort to examine all of the damage. *She shoah is beautiful,* Spot thought. In the light, Spot could see all of the horrible bruises marring her body, but he could also see the details of her hair and clothing better. The girl wasn't wearing a grey shirt, but a very dirty white one. Her hair which he originally placed to be dark brown, was not completely brown, in actuality, it was a mix looking more like dark auburn than just plain brown. She looked to be around sixteen or seventeen, "too young to be out on the streets of Brooklyn alone." Spot contemplated. Just then, Kloppman entered, tearing Spot out of his thoughts.
"Heah's some stuff foah you. Sleep well Spot." Kloppman said before leaving just as quickly as he entered.
"T'anks," Spot said to the air, before getting to work on the young woman's cuts. "T'ank god she's asleep so she can't feel this, 'cause it's gotta hoit like hell." Several hours later, Spot was asleep in a chair next to the bed occupied by the mystery girl, who was also sleeping.
TBC maybe. Hope you liked it :)
~Sprite~
