Day #61

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 :)