WOW!!!! SO, this is my first fanfic that I will be posting. I hope you
all like, and I would absolutely love your opinion. Its basically just
Spots story, and I know it sounds kind of typical right now, but I have
some ideas that, to my knowledge are original. I'm really busy, but I'm
gonna try and update as much as possible!
So, on with the story
Disclaimer-I do not own the movie Newsies, nor the character Spot Conlon (I think he owns himself) anything that is related to the movie belongs to Disney. As far as I know, all characters and plot stuffs in this story (beside spot) are my own. If I am mistaken, I apologize, please don't sue. Oh, and ummmm, I'm not making any money from this. I think that's good
Title: Brooklyn's Beginnings
Chapter: A New Place
Rating: This chapter's PG, because its depressing, but the story will probably be raised to PG-13 by the next chapter or two, for language, mention of child abuse, and violence.
For the second time the boy was awoken. This time he looked up into the eyes of a policeman. He scrambled up and tried to run, because he knew policemen where bad news, they meant you were in trouble. However, the policeman caught him and made him turn so they were face to face. "Kid," The policeman spoke "Yer parents die in the fire?" He said motioning toward the ruined building.
The little boy nodded.
"Ya got anywhere ta go?" Asked the policeman, his tone becoming slightly more gentle.
He shook his head no.
"How old are ya?"
The boy held up 5 fingers.
"Well, ah, here, come with me." The policeman said, leading him off. He led the boy to a police carriage, and when he hesitated, he told him it was all right, he wasn't in trouble or anything.
It was true, the boy had no place to go that he knew of. As far as he knew, he didn't have any relatives. He didn't have any friends. Hayden had raised him, even though he himself had only been a child. Both had grown up on the streets, keeping mostly to themselves. Their poor excuse for a home had provided nothing but shelter form the wind and snow, and constant bruises from their father. The friends the little boy had made were street urchins like him. He spent his days selling whatever he could to make a few pennies. He got into fights with boys twice his size, and usually winning. He stole food when he didn't have money to buy it, and did whatever necessary to keep himself alive. Until she had died a year ago, he had spent much of his time with Mrs. Caldwell, their neighbor across the hall. She was an old spinster who loved children and was pretty much the sole reason (besides Hayden) that the tiny boy survived his first few years of life. Basically, his five short miserable years of life, were exactly that, miserable. It was amazing he had survived them at all. For some reason though, he seemed to have some sort of drive. If any educated adult had taken the time to talk with this little boy, they would have realized that he was special. He would become something great someday, and he was unconsciously determined to stay alive.
The carriage arrived in front of a building in the heart of the slums of Brooklyn that read "Brooklyn Borough Orphanage for Boys." The police officer opened the carriage door and helped the boy out, leading him up the steps of the building and into the orphanage. The orphanage consisted of a large room on the bottom floor, in the back of which was an office and a bedroom, both of which belonged to Mr. Ranskin, who ran the orphanage. On the right were three doors. One lead to the mess hall and kitchen, one to the nursery for the babies, and one to another bedroom, that was shared by the two women in the orphanage. On the left side of the large room was a staircase. Upstairs were the bunkrooms for the boys, the custodian's quarters, and the classrooms. The large room was obviously the room where all of the children played during their free time, because right now it was extremely crowded with boys of all ages. As the police man led the boy through the children to the back of the room, many of the boys looked at him curiously, and he glared back at them, his icy blue eyes frightening them enough to avert their gazes. The policeman brought him to Mr. Ranskins office, and after they exchanged a few words that the boy was unable to hear, the policeman left. Mr. Ranskin told the boy to sit down in a chair that was much to big for him. "What's your name boy?" Mr. Ranskin asked
"Gabriel" The boy answered.
Mr. Ranskin raised his eyebrows, expecting more.
"Collins, Gabriels Collins."
WOOHOO! My first update! I hope you all liked it!!! I was really tired writing it, so I hope the descriptions are good and stuff! PLEASE REVIEW!!! It'll only take a second and will make me OH SO HAPPY!!! And thank you to my snowdogging friend, and my big sis Scams, fer being oh so supportive! I love you guys!!!
So, on with the story
Disclaimer-I do not own the movie Newsies, nor the character Spot Conlon (I think he owns himself) anything that is related to the movie belongs to Disney. As far as I know, all characters and plot stuffs in this story (beside spot) are my own. If I am mistaken, I apologize, please don't sue. Oh, and ummmm, I'm not making any money from this. I think that's good
Title: Brooklyn's Beginnings
Chapter: A New Place
Rating: This chapter's PG, because its depressing, but the story will probably be raised to PG-13 by the next chapter or two, for language, mention of child abuse, and violence.
For the second time the boy was awoken. This time he looked up into the eyes of a policeman. He scrambled up and tried to run, because he knew policemen where bad news, they meant you were in trouble. However, the policeman caught him and made him turn so they were face to face. "Kid," The policeman spoke "Yer parents die in the fire?" He said motioning toward the ruined building.
The little boy nodded.
"Ya got anywhere ta go?" Asked the policeman, his tone becoming slightly more gentle.
He shook his head no.
"How old are ya?"
The boy held up 5 fingers.
"Well, ah, here, come with me." The policeman said, leading him off. He led the boy to a police carriage, and when he hesitated, he told him it was all right, he wasn't in trouble or anything.
It was true, the boy had no place to go that he knew of. As far as he knew, he didn't have any relatives. He didn't have any friends. Hayden had raised him, even though he himself had only been a child. Both had grown up on the streets, keeping mostly to themselves. Their poor excuse for a home had provided nothing but shelter form the wind and snow, and constant bruises from their father. The friends the little boy had made were street urchins like him. He spent his days selling whatever he could to make a few pennies. He got into fights with boys twice his size, and usually winning. He stole food when he didn't have money to buy it, and did whatever necessary to keep himself alive. Until she had died a year ago, he had spent much of his time with Mrs. Caldwell, their neighbor across the hall. She was an old spinster who loved children and was pretty much the sole reason (besides Hayden) that the tiny boy survived his first few years of life. Basically, his five short miserable years of life, were exactly that, miserable. It was amazing he had survived them at all. For some reason though, he seemed to have some sort of drive. If any educated adult had taken the time to talk with this little boy, they would have realized that he was special. He would become something great someday, and he was unconsciously determined to stay alive.
The carriage arrived in front of a building in the heart of the slums of Brooklyn that read "Brooklyn Borough Orphanage for Boys." The police officer opened the carriage door and helped the boy out, leading him up the steps of the building and into the orphanage. The orphanage consisted of a large room on the bottom floor, in the back of which was an office and a bedroom, both of which belonged to Mr. Ranskin, who ran the orphanage. On the right were three doors. One lead to the mess hall and kitchen, one to the nursery for the babies, and one to another bedroom, that was shared by the two women in the orphanage. On the left side of the large room was a staircase. Upstairs were the bunkrooms for the boys, the custodian's quarters, and the classrooms. The large room was obviously the room where all of the children played during their free time, because right now it was extremely crowded with boys of all ages. As the police man led the boy through the children to the back of the room, many of the boys looked at him curiously, and he glared back at them, his icy blue eyes frightening them enough to avert their gazes. The policeman brought him to Mr. Ranskins office, and after they exchanged a few words that the boy was unable to hear, the policeman left. Mr. Ranskin told the boy to sit down in a chair that was much to big for him. "What's your name boy?" Mr. Ranskin asked
"Gabriel" The boy answered.
Mr. Ranskin raised his eyebrows, expecting more.
"Collins, Gabriels Collins."
WOOHOO! My first update! I hope you all liked it!!! I was really tired writing it, so I hope the descriptions are good and stuff! PLEASE REVIEW!!! It'll only take a second and will make me OH SO HAPPY!!! And thank you to my snowdogging friend, and my big sis Scams, fer being oh so supportive! I love you guys!!!