|
|
Post by Administrator on Aug 30, 2008 21:50:31 GMT -5
With the impressive houses, the people that live around here have got to have some change for a pape!
|
|
|
|
Post by georgiesullivan on Feb 14, 2009 1:05:32 GMT -5
Georgie walked down the lane, just taking in the sunlight with a bounce in her step and joy in her heart. She walked along, lifting her face to the warm sun and feeling almost as if she could reach out and touch the soft rays. Her dress rustled softly in the breeze and made a soft swishing noise as she walked. She swung her handwoven basket her Mama had made for her. It held a sandwich her Mother had made for her in case she wasn't home in lunch, shopping money in a little pouch so she could run erands, and her sewing and embroidering in case she found a quiet place to sew. It also held Georgie's favorite novel and her journal. She loved to describe everything in new fascinating words. She hummed an old hymn, her gentle melody drifting in the breeze. What a lovely day.
|
|
|
|
Post by professor on Feb 14, 2009 13:27:47 GMT -5
Although all of his papers had been sold, Rainier was loath to return to the lodging house. For a long while now he had been the type of boy to keep to himself, for the most part, and he disliked having to be surrounded by people. New York was full of people, but for some reason Rainier didn't feel as surrounded when he was on the bustling streets. He had the feeling that this was because he knew on the streets, there was a way out of he chose to take it. He could go at any time. It was almost comforting.
It was a pleasant day, but it wasn't like Rainier to notice the weather. To him, every day was just about the same, rain or shine, summer or winter. He was about to turn a corner when he saw a girl, and he couldn't help but glance at her again. She looked so incredibly happy! What was the secret to that kind of happiness? Rainier had the feeling it wasn't what he'd been forced through in his life. He was about to look away when he felt obliged to speak to the girl, in case she thought he'd been staring. "Sorry, 'scuse me..." he said in his habitually quiet voice. "Where's--er--Silver Street?" He knew very well where Silver Street was; he knew Queens like the back of his hand. He needed something to say to her, though. Rainier was less than an excellent conversationalist, to say the least.
|
|
|
|
Post by georgiesullivan on Feb 15, 2009 2:13:26 GMT -5
"Sorry, 'scuse me..."
"Where's--er--Silver Street?"
Georgie stopped humming and she turned around at the voice of a boy. She flashed a bright smile at him as she listened to his question. Her brow quirked for only a second. He seemed to be very soft spoken, shy. She wondered if he lived in Queens or if he was from a different borough, or if he was new to the city.
"Silver street isn't far from here. Just make a left here at the end of the street and go straight, take a right and well, there's Silver Street!" Her cheeks were a rosy red and lighted her creamy white skin. Her blonde hair danced in the breeze. Her sky blue eyes were as bright as the sun. She gestured up at the clear blue skies and a smile still played on her lips.
"Beautiful day, isn't it?" She asked cheerfully, not wanting him to leave quite yet. He seemed like a nice boy, even if he was shy.
|
|
|
|
Post by professor on Feb 15, 2009 19:11:18 GMT -5
"Silver street isn't far from here. Just make a left here at the end of the street and go straight, take a right and well, there's Silver Street!"
He certainly knew that much. In fact, he knew a quicker way: he could cut through the alley that went behind the horologist's shop and the German bakery and come out between the music shop and the stationary store. Silver Street was right there. He had used the path several times, especially when it was raining, to get to shelter more quickly. Nonetheless, he had asked, to avoid the awkwardness of the girl's glance. He must pretend he hadn't known. "Left, then a right," he recapitulated, pretending to commit the directions to memory. "Thanks very much. You've been an excellent help."
Beautiful day, isn't it?"
He glanced up. "Hadn't really noticed," he said honestly, his voice returning to a soft, chagrined mumble. "I mean--I don't--notice those kinds of things. Sorry..."
|
|
|
|
Post by georgiesullivan on Feb 15, 2009 21:41:31 GMT -5
She chewed her lip and straightened her apron, not really expecting him to say much.
"Left, then a right,"
"Thanks very much. You've been an excellent help."
Her bright smile returned and she nodded. "You're very welcome."
"Hadn't really noticed, I mean--I don't--notice those kinds of things. Sorry..."
She listened to him and her smile faded a little. "Oh...well that's okay. Not many people do notice. I guess I just happen to notice..."
She managed another smile, feeling not really uncomfortable, just uncertain. She knew hard times, she just chose to face it with a smile and joy in her heart for the things she did have. She felt as if maybe he didn't like her cheerfulness, maybe it annoyed him. Some days when her father had a bad day he would come home. Georgie would go to greet him with a bright smile and a kiss on the cheek and would ask how his day had went. Her father would just give her a hollow look and turn away.
"Um, Oh, I'm Georgie by the way. Georgie Sullivan."
|
|
|
|
Post by professor on Feb 15, 2009 23:54:18 GMT -5
"Oh...well that's okay. Not many people do notice. I guess I just happen to notice..."
Rainier shook his head. Her sunny disposition, what had made him notice her in the first place, was beginning to fade. He hoped he hadn't put her out, and he also knew that he had. He spoke quickly, but still in a quiet, timid voice. "It's good to notice," he said, still trying to speak as laconically as he could. He tried not to use so many words. People would get bored with him that way. "Maybe I should notice more."
"Um, Oh, I'm Georgie by the way. Georgie Sullivan."
"Pleasure," Rainier mumbled. "I'm--my name is James. But please call me Rainier. S'what people 'round here have always called me." He disliked it when people called him by his real name, or anything else but Rainier. He had tried desperately to rid himself of his old life with his father, and didn't want to bring back the memories. It was better to focus on his new life, and with that came his new name. He paused for a long moment, studying Georgie Sullivan with a neutral gaze.
"You don't sell newspapers, do you?" he guessed, wondering if he was right. Rainier's quietness and timidity seemed to be the price to pay for a gift he had: he could tell a lot about a person just by looking at them. He could use visual clues to tell him what a person was like, or what they were not like; or what they did, or didn't do.
|
|
|
|
Post by georgiesullivan on Feb 16, 2009 0:05:05 GMT -5
"It's good to notice, "Maybe I should notice more."
She nodded, a bit of her joyful smile returning. Maybe he wasn't annoyed.
"I'm--my name is James. But please call me Rainier. S'what people 'round here have always called me."
"Rainier? Like the beer? or because you're gloomy like the rain?...not that its a bad thing, I d-didn't mean...you look a little young to be drinking." Her eyebrows rose and she waited expectedly for his answer. She noticed him studying her and managed a smile, her cheeks still rosy.
"You don't sell newspapers, do you?"
"No, I don't. Not that I don't work though. I do lots of things to help out my family with the funds. I cook, and help my Mother with the sewing. She's a seamstress. And I...I well, it's interesting really, even a little strange, but I shine shoes."
|
|
|
|
Post by reeves on Apr 5, 2009 18:58:11 GMT -5
*New Day* (For Father Mulcahy?) Reeves walked swiftly down the street, his packages tucked securely between his arm. It was morning and the city was awake, but it was more of a lazy morning. Reeves hadn't gone home last night, he had gotten into a fight with his older brother. He didn't care if they were worried about him, he was too angry still. It had been very late in the afternoon, the sun was practically going and Reeves had been about a good half hour late for supper. He had a good reason for it too. He was walking all over the city, trying to find a second job he could do to fill the empty hours of his now hopelessly short delivery shift. He had entered the small family apartment and immediately, his older sister rushed to him, asking him where he had been, and why he was so late. Reeves was too tired and frustrated to respond, he had just given a shrug. Darry had joined the conversation then, telling him he better give his sister an answer and give her one fast as she had been worrying about him. He said it was unfair and ungrateful of Reeves to always come home so late and then act like it was no big deal. "Those streets are dangerous! You're only fifteen years old! We have enough to worry about then you coming home late every night. It's unfair to your sister and its unfair to us who have to hold supper for you. You've been acting real funny lately kiddo, and we want out with it, " Darry had finished, his voice stern and harsh. Reeves had ignored his gaze, a uncaring frown on his face as he listened to his brother lecture. He didn't want to answer their questions, all he wanted was to eat supper and go to bed. It had been a long day. "Aw come on Darry. The kid was probably just working or something, he always loses track of time you know that. It was probably just an accident, " Seventeen year old Danny came to Reeves' defense. "I'm sick of him doing this! He comes home late and don't say one word to us in between! If he wants to live here, it would be nice if he could acknowlege us once in awhile instead of keeping everything to himself! You stop being on his side all the time!" "Don't yell at him," Reeves shot at Darry, it was a full fledge family arguement. Darry shoved Reeves harshly to the ground and Reeves couldn't take it anymore, he bolted out the door back into the evening city air again. "Seth! I didn't mean to!" Darry called after him, but Reeves was too angry to respond or forgive. No, he kept walking and walking, until he found himself in Queens, instead of Manhattan. He had found himself a vacant lot to sleep in, and in the morning he went to work at the department store as usual. Reeves shook his head as he remembered the incident last night, a tired yet angry frown on his face. He tried to shove those thoughts into the back of his mind. He had packages to deliver. (Uhh...haha, don't mind the longness, I guess I was in the writing mood  ) |
|
|
|
Post by Father Mulcahy on Apr 6, 2009 10:48:44 GMT -5
Father Mulcahy strolled along the sidewalk, a linen satchel full of apples over one shoulder as he'd just come from the grocer. Good, red apples were a tough commodity here, and when he'd showed up just as the grocer was stocking a fresh shipment, he'd stocked up. Goodness knows he loved a fresh apple, "forbidden" fruit or not.
In fact, I'd love one right now, he thought to himself, and began rooting through the bag for one to munch while he walked. Focused on the apple bag as he turned the corner, he didn't notice a boy coming from the opposite direction. They clipped each other in passing, Mulcahy's shoulder unseating a bundle of packages from the boy's grip, dropping them to the pavement.
"Oh, goodness gracious," Mulcahy sighed, forgetting the apples and stooping to gather the fallen parcels. "Forgive me, please, I should've been paying more attention. I'm terribly sorry!"
|
|
|
|
Post by reeves on Apr 6, 2009 15:38:16 GMT -5
"Forgive me, please, I should've been paying more attention. I'm terribly sorry!"
Reeves shrugged, accepting the packages from the man, not angry about it, though still frowned slightly.
"It's okay, I drop them sometimes anyways, at least now I got an excuse. It ain't like its gonna change my tips with the snobs anyways.." Reeves mumbled the last part slightly, he couldn't help but say that, he just was tired an thinking about last night didn't help any. He sighed and nodded to the man, managing a small weary smile, not wanting to appear to me some tempered street boy with no manners. He straightened the packages in his arms, and pushed his gray cap up higher on his head, it tipped to the side slightly, his somewhat messy hair peeking out.
|
|
|
|
Post by Father Mulcahy on Apr 7, 2009 15:58:45 GMT -5
Mulcahy smiled and nodded a farewell, turning to continue on his way back to the church, but hesitated, his fatherly nature refusing to let him leave.
"If... if you don't mind me saying so," he started cautiously, "that's a mighty weary smile for someone so young, son. Something on your mind? I could accompany you on your rounds if you'd like to talk about it." He smiled conspiratorially and fingered his tabbed collar. "It is sort of my job to be vented upon."
|
|
|
|
Post by reeves on Apr 7, 2009 17:59:32 GMT -5
"If... if you don't mind me saying so, that's a mighty weary smile for someone so young, son. Something on your mind? I could accompany you on your rounds if you'd like to talk about it. It is sort of my job to be vented upon."
One word struck out in Reeves mind hard, son. He hadn't been called that since his parents fateful accident so many years ago... He shook his head of that thought slightly and focused on what the man was saying. He noticed the man's collar for the first time. The man had a kind smile and his offer was sincere. Reeves shifted and eyed him slightly.
"fine, if you'd like to. No heat storms today, and no cold either, nice weather. I bet it gets pretty stuffy in that old church. I guess company wouldn't be so bad anyways.." Reeves shrugged.
|
|
|
|
Post by Father Mulcahy on Apr 8, 2009 20:41:23 GMT -5
I bet it gets pretty stuffy in that old church. I guess company wouldn't be so bad anyways.."
Mulcahy chuckled. "Oh, you could say that a thousand times over and it'd never once be a lie. Stained glass murals are beautiful works of art, of course, but they lack significantly in practicality. Let in all the sunlight and warmth, but no breeze at all. Between the windows, the lanterns, the stove and the censers, it's enough to choke a man."
He walked a few paces in silence, then started up again. "I was a delivery boy when I was about your age. In Philadelphia. Mostly ladies' hats and dresses. Worked for three years. Doesn't pay much--sure an' I don't have to tell you that--but you get to meet a lot of people. One of my regulars was an opera singer, and she sang everything. Oh, she sang her cantatas and concertos, of course, but she also sang her hellos and goodbyes and her have a nice days." He laughed at the memory of the buxom woman with sausage curls and a rolling contralto voice. "A little strange, but she tipped well for speedy delivery. Thanks to her generosity, I managed to scrape together enough to buy myself a shiny new bicycle in my second year, to make my rounds go quicker."
|
|
|
|
Post by reeves on Apr 8, 2009 22:07:29 GMT -5
Reeves listened to the priest reminince of his days as a delivery boy as well, slightly interested. That was an odd thing to think about, but he realized it made sense. It's not like guys were born as priests, he shook his head at his own stupidness and cracked a small smirk.
"Oh, well, my customers ain't like that, most of them ain't anyway. Most just say two words to me: Street Rat and then if I'm lucky they shut the door firmly, but don't slam it in my face, but a select few are okay I guess," as he said these words he flushed slightly thinking about Catherine.
"As for bycicles? I can barely walk without bumping into somebody on the crowded streets, so I don't think I could let alone bycical," He smirked slightly again, his eyes threatening to twinkle but holding back slightly.
|
|
)
