Part II: Apparition

Life in the riches can be cruel, but life on the streets will be your undoing.

THE WICKEDLY

by

Louis M. Warde

Pt: II

Apparition

         Victor J. Coyle was a fit young gentleman nearly twenty years in age, whose family had been heavily invested in the large businesses of the city for many generations, demonstrated regularly through a strangely positive disposition that such blindness could be a completely natural phenomena. Money was by no means a concern to the young man, and would be husband of a delightfully eloquent young lady answering to the name of Emilia. He and Emilia; though, they were the product of an arranged marriage, they were deeply in love. No other could spark the twinkle in their eyes. Truly he had little to leave him wanting. Their families had been busy for several weeks developing wedding plans, invitation lists and so on. All the while Victor and Emilia paraded about town with their friends at their side. Timothy, Victor's cohort, traveled with them everywhere. He often though seemed more like a chauffeur than cohort. To Victor and Emilia, it was as though their dream of life together was about to come true; alas, not all dreamers awaken happily from their slumber.

         Victor found out quickly of the darkness that men could conjure. Thrown to the streets like a stray dog, his inheritance stripped from him, and his marriage lost before it could even come to pass. At his estate, his things were finding new home as lawn décor. Emilia's family already having removed her from the situation, they refused for her to be any more a part of the scandal that now consumed Victor than she already was. He pleaded for them not to throw him to the streets, but his fathers investors held the future of their businesses and as such, they held the leverage on his family. It wasn't as though his father truly wanted him gone, but confronted with the threat of his entire bloodline becoming poor, it was a more 'affordable option' to disinherit his only son.

        “Father, Mother, please!” He pleaded. “Don't send me to the streets, I've no place to go. If you send me out like this I'll surely die!” He pounded on the door with his fist. He wasn't a muscular man, but in this moment he hammered on the door with all his might. Not but a few moments after he began did his father open the door, giving a hard stare into the eyes of his son.

        “You've put the whole family in danger on account of your disreputable conduct. I've no option son, but to cast you away.” His fathers voice was hard with anger and heartache.

         “But Father, these accusations are lies, I could never have done the things they've claimed!”

         “It is beyond my control Victor, but I wish for you to know me in better light.” He reached beside him to receive a small bag partially filled with coins from his wife, Victor's mother. “If I let you go unpunished, and stay in the inheritance, the investors will want to pull out. I'm sorry son.” He said, handing Victor the bag, coins jingling as they switched owners. Before Victor could find the words to argue in favor of his innocence, his father slithered out of the entrance and swiftly shut the door. He wasn't sure if it was for the sake of making the departure of his only son less painful, or if it was an attempt to conceal the fact that he was aiding a disreputable wretch in the eyes of both local media and populous.

        Victor replayed the day over and over as he wandered the streets of the city, uncertain of where to go. People he once called friends, brothers, and sisters now showered him with garbage and curses as he walked. I didn't do it, how can I make them believe me? He wondered. Time slipped away slowly, dragging on for what seemed to him like eternity. Each second made his feet feel heavier and his stomach emptier. He hadn't eaten since before the incident and it had now been nearly a full twenty-four hours since his expulsion from the family name. The sun's glow had lost most of the amber luminescence by this point and cast crimson rays that light into the sky like a sea of flames.

         Passing a bakery he caught the scent of a fresh batch of bred. He could smell the warmth of each loaf as he passed by and his stomach demanded a sample of at least one. It was fortunate that his father at least gave him some money. At least my father cares enough that he doesn't wish for me to starve. As he approached the counter, a large man both in height and width came out from the back, his white apron covered in batter and other cooking ingredients.

         “What fresh breads do you have this moment, sir?” Victor asked uncomfortably. Usually it would be the family servants who would do the shopping, he wasn't entirely sure what he was doing.

         “It's bread, take it or leave it.” Said the baker gruffly.

         “I'll take two, sir, if I may.”

         “Ya, that's five shilling” The baker said to him as he disappeared into the back to fetch the two loaves of bread. He emerged from the back with each loaf wrapped neatly in folded cloths.

         Victor reached into the bag and plucked a pound from the pile. Handing to the man he took his bread and set out again on his way. The baker was surprised to see his customer give him so much extra.

         “It's all yours, sir.” Said Victor as he walked off.

         With a full belly and a clear head, Victor made his way to several places with rooms for rent. Though he didn't have any work, he was confident he could find some sort of employment; however, confidence alone soon proved to the gentleman to be insufficient when finding means of shelter. He was faced with the dilemma of either living on the streets, or finding some sort of employment arrangement so he could then find a place to stay. Given his rather tender and sheltered upbringing, it wasn't at all possible for him to find tolerance or acceptance in the notion of a street life, but he had no experience with the world of the lower and middle class citizen, and as such, knew nothing of finding an occupation. What he did know though, was that the day had already waned too closely to night for him to begin such a search. For tonight at least, he would have to find a place to wait until day. He couldn't fathom getting any sleep in such situation.

         Hours passed and his wandering had drawn him from buildings to businesses. Several times he'd attempted to rest outside of shops or homes relatively close to his former residence knowing that such an area was mostly crime free, but those who saw him were quick to shew him away. Such a sight outside their business or abode was a scar on their public image. He was becoming rapidly aware of the world that existed outside of his own, far from his knowledge up to this point. Eventually his wandering drifted him farther and farther from the places he knew and into the darker side of town. Further still into the shadowy places where any hope of familiarity had been extinguished. Though his nerves shook him he did his best to remain calm and confident that everything would work out in the end. 

         Following a rather unkempt street lined with ragged and run down buildings, he'd managed to find himself a spot he thought might prove to be far enough outside of the industrial sections of town that he might find some sense of peace or safety. From a pile of unused bricks he constructed a small seat and table where he placed his bread, still wrapped in the cloth from the bakery. As he pulled the cloth from his coat, the bag of coins fell from the pocket inside. With a cacophony of tings and tangs, the coins spilled and bounced from the bag, the sounds sharp enough that Victor winced from each strike on the cobblestone path beneath him.

         Quickly, he scooped the coins up and returned them to the purple velvet sack whence they came . Stuffing the bag back into his coat he scanned the area nervously, but the continued silence soothed his worries. Time to eat and figure out a plan, He thought as he began to unwrap the partially eaten loaf of bread.

         “Smell that boys?” Came a voice from the darkness.

         “W-who's there?!” Victor jumped to his feet in his surprise, looking around to put a face to voice.

         “Just a few lonely rats hoping that a kind gentleman such as yourself might share what sweet smelling morsels he has.” Four men emerged from the darkness, starvation written in the eyes.

         “Well, I suppose that would be alright. I- I have an entire loaf of bread here that I'm not going to be able to eat until tomorrow. If you'd like, please feel free to take it.” Plucking the bag from his improvised table he held out his arm as far as it would stretch.

         “Well would ya look at that, what a fine example of good nature and compassion. But that wasn't the kind of sweet scent I was talking about. Stutts, get the bread.” Said the stranger, leaning against the wall of a building across the alley from Victor. “I believe you have a bag in your coat pocket there that has a nice little collection of crackers for us. How 'bout a deal since me and my boys have had a rough evening and I'm feeling a little tired. If you give us the bag, you can keep your life, but if you don't, well... we may just get a little grumpy.

         “But I need this money to eat and find a place to live.” Victor pleaded as a smaller stranger than the one before him took the bread from his hand and returned to the shadows.

         “Listen pal, I don't really feel like doin' this the hard way, so just hand over the damn bag and get lost.” Pushing himself from the wall, the stranger slowly began to approach Victor, as did two of his cohorts.

         Attempting to back away from them, Victor stumbled several times on the various obstacles at his feat. Sweat had begun to build on his brow. The young man was certainly no fighter in the first place; furthermore, even if he was a relatively skilled fighter, he still stood no hope of conquering the three foes before him. As reluctant as he was, his options for survival were gone, he would either sacrifice his hope of finding shelter, or die defending it.

         “Alright,” he said apprehensively, “but you swear that you'll let me go after I've given you the money?”

         “I am a man of my word kind sir, and you are clearly as smart as your clothes elude.” The strange leader bowed before him and waved with a hand for the gentleman to hand the bag to one of his comrades.

         As Victor retrieved the bag and warily reached to hand it to the thug, he and every other in the alley were startled at the sound of a rather powerful thud. Suddenly, one of the men in the group fell limply to the ground, blood seeping from a spot on the back of his head.

         “For Christ's sake! Tricks, I swear to God, you've done pissed me off now! First you take my food, now you take my money in the same day. I'm gonna get you, and when I do you better believe I'm gonna make you suffer!” As the stranger spun, clearly rattled and nervous, another of his group fell unconscious to the cobbles, blood seeping from his head as well. “Damn you, Tricks!” Growled the stranger. He was losing men fast, and was now faced with an enemy he could not see. His mind was resolved for him as a sound akin to a pair of blades grinding along each others edges came from the shadows next to his head. In such an instant, the grown man was far to scared to stay put. “C'mon, Stutts, we're gettin' the hell outta' here! And the two of them vanished into the night, managing only to steal a loaf of bread.

         Victor stood, certain that he was to be the next victim of the phantom that so easily took out two of the thugs without ever once being seen. He stood in petrified silence. Laughter echoed off the walls, no doubt from the apparition.

         “P-please! Whatever you need, take it, just please spare me!” Victor begged to the darkness. The laughter faded and only the silence of the night was left to accompany the gentleman. Several minutes passed this way, his apprehension easing slightly as he thought the ghost had decided to spare his life this night. Sighing a great release of tension, Victors legs suddenly felt to him like overcooked noodles. His legs giving out, he dropped to the ground.

         “You're lucky mister, those guys would have killed you the instant they got your money.” From the shadows stepped a little boy into the moonlit alleyway. A devious grin stretched across his face as his eyes glistened from the lunar luminescence.

If you liked this writing, please look for the next installment on Sunday, July 21st, 2013

Author's Note

This is only the second installment of the series which will continue for several more to come. If you haven't read part one, I would suggest doing so before proceeding, It'll make a little bit more sense that way.