The Bread Brigand

Standing in front of the alleyway, one might observe that this alley in particular, appears, at first glance, unusually wide. Another thing that might grasp mercilessly upon the viewer is that no matter how many lanterns are placed before it, the place fails to light up the slightest. Many have whispered amongst themselves that this place must be haunted. For, an eerie haze would always be admitting by it. Surely, no doubt this was the place of the devil, either that, or a very malevolent specter. Few fellows had dared to ever promenade into to it, least they did they made quick haste to get out, and were greeted by ladies who were just about as fear stricken and ashen as they themselves were. Then the story commenced the same way. The women would take their husbands home, sit them down and spoon feed them brandy until there nerves settled. ( The wives did not vacillate before taking a few sips themselves.) Thereafter they would commence to there daily business, and healthy, or sickly robustness. Not another word was discussed of the place.

Of course though, any sensible person whom wasn’t possessed by superstition, might be able to course through the alley, finding only the mist was the work of chimneys of neighboring buildings. They would find no specter, only a few homeless peasants who were eluding the police. Then they might commence further, and come out the other end, and be surrounded by a bustling, yet at the same time a desolate  dolorous throng of people. All scurrying such as ants do when a child stomps their house. A curious passerby might be inquisitive to know what is on the idle, and rather arcane faces of these people. They walked, ran, treaded, but they seemed forever like they would go nowhere. 

The shoe makers, the storekeepers, the barbers, the dentists, and all the merchants were the same as the people. A particular gentlemen, we only know the sight of his backside, noticed that all the people listed thereof all looked the same. The wives, slightly plump, middled aged, but looking they were aged far beyond their years. The husbands were lean, but not thin. With white hair, and they all wore the ancien-regime knee breeches. Not a doublet, that was ill afforded. But they wore ruffled collared shirts. And the each of them had a pair of eye glasses to be fancied. Our gent, saw that all the shops appeared rather dusty. Perhaps not to many would enter them, then where are all those people going? Home, church, family? Most of them were solitary. 

Our gent came down the superstition haunted alley, greeted a few peasants with a hasty “ good day”, then scurried midst the crowd, and eyed the shops and their merchants eloquently. If a merchant or his devil-eyed wife were to even begin to turn their head, our gent was gone, he became another face in the crowd. He was good that way, he could evade most anyone, especially the police. Though, he looked like everyone else, his friends, and yes even few his enemies could find him tout de suite. 

Author's Note

This book is rather a rough draft, I may make modifications but I assure you the plot will stay the same

Reviews

[Carrie Manor]

Tout de suite is French for: immediately; at once

[emona]

wow carrie this kept my on the edge of my seat more more more more lol and what does "tout de suite" mean?