Hey there! This is my new toy hedgehog. Bought for me while I was in Cornwall by my mum. When I was younger, my family and I would go to museums or castles or historical informative places (didn't know how to phrase it or another synonym), because I was small and pretty hyper active, I would spend alot of time in the gift shop, always convincing my parents that I didn't have a cuddly ____ (Any stuffed animal or thing). To the point that I vividly remember saying that I didn't have a cuddly snake and hey presto, a snake. I built up a huge collection, a collection that pretty much took up a whole loft space. In a National trust shop in Cornwall, my mum joked with me about how they had a cuddly hedgehog after I had said how cute it looked. Without realising, she went off and bought it, she gave it to me today and it'll live on my shelf at university. So begins Harold the Hedgehog's adventure. Thanks mum.
Also, today I finished off a creative writing assignment (the one which mentions Ella Fitzgerald and gangsters). I don't think it's anything amazing but I thought you might be interested:
The piece (unformatted)
Smooth jazz rang out
of the music hall, Ella Fitzgerald's voice was dancing in twine with
a saxophone, hitting and twisting around the perfect notes for this
charity ball. Your roughcut narrator stood outside, excluded from
this event which invited only the highest of the high class. My good
friends Jimmy, Angelo and Tony stood around our 1928 Cadilac Town
Sedan (resprayed black with clean plates). Tony, leaning on the car
with a cigarette in his mouth was combing his salt and pepper hair,
slicked back to be hidden underneath his fedora. Jimmy sat on the
bonnet, nodding his head to 'Moonlight in Vermont', glancing his eyes
up to the clock on the side of the great building in front of us.
Angelo, the youngest of our group, shook with every car that passed
us. 'Time to go?' Jimmy said, as if not able to hold out any longer.
'Not yet,' I
replied. Ten on the dot was the time given and I wasn't going to let
Jimmy Needles mess it up. Not again.
***
Carl
stood in front of me, across the mahogany table. I sat against the
back of my chair, willing my soul to escape my body, so that at least
part of me could run, back out into the Chicago morning, I could
stroll along the Navy pier or just run, until my lungs burned and my
souls bled. I'd run so far but I doubt I would escape the Carlisi
family for long. Joe didn't.
'You
messed up kid. I gave you one job and you blew it. Six men dead and a
dispute with the don himself, you're screwed now.'
'I
fucked up Carl, I know. I'll-'
Three
men stepped into the room, one shorter and fatter than the others,
adding to the smell of whisky and smoke already present. Sitting down
in silence, the don dismissed Carl with a hand gesture. We sat in
silence for what seemed like hours, days maybe, but can only have
been a handful of seconds. Don Colosimo spoke calmly and surprisingly
quietly.
'The
job did not go as I had anticipated I understand?'
'No Mr
Colosimo.' I replied, holding back my excuses and only extending
limited words.
'Would
you like a drink?'
'No
thanks,' he knew I was to nervous to move let alone drink.
'Six of
my best boys died for you, for the mistakes made by you,' he paused
to take his hat off, exposing his thinning hair and greying skin.
'My
friends here,' nudging his hands towards the men standing either side
of him, 'think that I should kill you. End the trouble you give me.'
I shook with fear, thinking back to the words that my mother had said
before I got into all of this mess, 'stay out of trouble Eric, no
more trouble, I mean it.'
I
pulled my hand off the table and hid it under the table.
'Instead,
I want to give you one more chance. Prove yourself that this was just
a fatal mistake.'
'Yes Mr
Colosimo,' I tried desperately to hide my smile but it betrayed me.
'If you
mess this up, I will kill you. I will kill your mother, your sister
and anyone you care about.'
Composing
himself, he continued
'It's a
big job so you will need guys you can trust, shooters and your wits
about you. I'll have Carl explain the situation and I'll see you
after it's done.'
With
that, Don Colosimo was up and out of the door with his two
protectors, after a minute or two Carl re-entered and handed me an
envelope, unsealed. The words on his lips didn't need saying 'don't
fuck this one up kid.'
***
The
bell in the clock tower was pealing and with a glance, I saw that it
was 10 on the dot. Tony was pulling the shooters from the bag on the
back seat of our wagon, passing them round, a shotgun or Thompson
each and a Colt. Jimmy saw that I was in deep thought and looked as
worried as ever, his forehead wrinkled, our eyes met and just as his
mouth opened, Tony thrust a Thompson into his hand. I nodded and lead
us quickly away from the road, lit up by streetlights, looking
beautiful on this December morning. We entered through a side door in
the building. By this time the jazz music was muffled as we pushed
our way into a corridor that ran down the side of the great hall. We
pulled our makeshift masks onto our faces, mine was just a pair of
stockings, stolen from a sweetheart, used to distort facial features,
making it harder to identify us criminal types. Just as a trumpet
solo flew up above the music, my merry men and I flew through the
door and spilled out into the great hall, causing panic and distress
in all of these rich types. I held my pistol into the air and shot,
all the while, Jimmy, Tony and Angelo shouting to stay down on the
floor, saying that we didn't want anyone to be hurt. I am unsure if
this was actually a lie because it was my life on the line, I was
going to do anything and everything that I could in order to find
Giovanni Vitale. One of the men at the far table got up and tried to
run for an exit that Angelo was yet to cover, as a result, Tony shot
him in the back, shreiks were thrown out by all guests, this was
useful as it subdued the other hostages from doing anything stupid.
Something which I then warned them about doing. Once all were
subdued, I made my way up the staircase and searched each room for my
target. It took me three empty rooms until I found him, sat at a
table with his sturdy looking bodyguards. I shot each of them in turn
before they could even stand up. While looking at Giovanni, I spoke
the words I felt were right,
'Da Don
Colosimo. Riposare in pace.'
His
eyes grew wide and he stuttered, 'you've got it all-.' Your narrator
shot, three desperate bullets.
After
leaving the mess upstairs, I found that the boys were taking what
valuables they could from the hostages, which seemed to be quite a
tidy profit. Money, diamonds and other such jewels.
'It's
done boys, let's go.'
As we
made our way towards the door a volley of shots came in through the
windows, smashing into Jimmy and Tony, throwing them breathless on to
the floor. I peered up from where myself and Angelo had taken some
cover and saw that it was the police, the door we were attempting to
leave out of was in clear sight of a police line and as a result we
were trapped, but we had to make an escape. A window perhaps?
Anything to get out of this place.
We ran
to the back of the hall, behind the stage and there, lo and behold
was a stage door. Angelo was in front of me, he flung himself through
the door, only to fall 5 feet unexpectedly onto the floor. By the
sounds of things he had broken a leg and damaged his other. Crying
out for his mother, father and the holy ghost, I tried to pick him up
with no avail. This boy was not going to move anywhere. The alleyway
then lit up, torchlight. Not just one torch, 3 or 4, maybe more. I
shot into the piercing light but it was clear, try to drag this
injured boy away and be caught together, or run and sacrifice him for
my own freedom. I ran, I'm ashamed but at the time there was no
question. I was free but what a mess I had made. I ran all the way
home, double locked my door, pulled the stockings off of my head and
lay on my floor, noticing a spec of blood on my collar, staring at it
until I must have passed out.
Angelo
intruded my dreams, visions of him being beaten in prison were
interrupted by a knock at the door, a harsh banging which seemed to
shake the wood from the hinges. It was Carl, dragging me, wordless
into the early morning, into his car. The sun was dragging itself
over the horizon as we drove, wordless. Only Carl knew what was
happening at that moment.
'You
messed up the big job Eric'
'No, I
killed Giovanni, it's over right, I'm straight with Colosimo?'
'Oh, my
boy. Bunny boy, that wasn't Giovanni Vitali that you killed.
'Who
was it?' I asked
'That
was Don Capone. Scarface. We aren't going back.'
Until tomorrow
Will :)
