Categories > Movies > Newsies > Goodbye
Chap 6: Goodbye
0 reviewsA Deadly fire strikes in the heart of Manhattan just before Christmas. Can Jack and the others save one of their own? (WARNING: character death)
0Unrated
The icy wind crept in chilling him to his core. He had used a bit of his money to purchase a long oilcloth duster, normally it kept out even the worst winter storms. But today, he couldn't seem to get warm. He hunched his shoulders just a bit and flipped the collar up to shield him from the chill. Winter sleet drizzling from the brim of his hat.
He hadn't really expected much of a turn out, the weather was rotten and that made most folks keep close to hearth and home, but newsies weren't most folks. and they had come to say good bye to a friend. Even their shabby, not warm enough clothing, no where near a match for the bitter January day, wasn't enough to keep them from the small cemetery.
Everyone was there in the small church yard cemetery. Kid Blink and Mush huddled with Race, who was fingering his rosary beads and praying softly in Latin, pausing every so often to start another prayer. Blink and Mush would join in, softly saying the words in English. "Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee....Blessed art thou among women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus."
He knew the words too, in English, Gaelic and Latin. He'd heard them many times through his life, more often when he was an alter boy while he lived at the orphanage, but even though he rarely set foot in a church now, and he sometimes wondered what he had done to make God forget him, he still knew the words. His voice was still, but he allowed the words to enter his mind,..../'Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death. Amen'/
Skittery, Specs, Bumlets, and the others, stood in small groups near the open grave and wooden coffin. Each saying prayers they had grown up with, or just stood silently sobbing with the weight of the day. No one cared that boys weren't s'posed to cry, or that they were tough street rats. They had lost part of their family, and they didn't care who knew it.
"Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed by thy Name. Thy kingdom come, thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven."
Dave and Les looked a little uncomfortable, they'd never been to a Catholic Church before, they stood near Race, but not completely part of the group, Les's cheeks were tear streaked, leaving his eyes and nose red. Only partly from the cold. Even Sarah had shown up. He hadn't expected that. She stood behind Les with one hand on his shoulder, the other holding a linen hanky to her face as she cried. He hadn't spoken to Sarah in months. He couldn't stomach looking at her, not after her betrayal. He turned his back to her, facing the grave.
Spot stepped forward and took a handful of soil from the frozen pile at his feet. Leaning over the grave, he dropped it. The chunks of dirt clattering on the wooden lid. He crossed himself and stepped back to his vantage point. "Ya awright Jack?"
The tall cowboy, scooped up a similar sized pile of earth. It was heavy in his hand. Everything was heavy to him now, his heart, his step. He swallowed hard, but the lump was still in his throat. He stepped forward to the edge of the grave. Closed his eyes, and said "Goodbye, Crutchy." Letting the soil slide through his fingers, to land, mixed with the other handfulls of dirt that were scattered across the casket. A lone tear snaked down his cheek.
"C'mon boy," Kloppman draped an arm gently over his shoulder. "Lets go home."
He hadn't really expected much of a turn out, the weather was rotten and that made most folks keep close to hearth and home, but newsies weren't most folks. and they had come to say good bye to a friend. Even their shabby, not warm enough clothing, no where near a match for the bitter January day, wasn't enough to keep them from the small cemetery.
Everyone was there in the small church yard cemetery. Kid Blink and Mush huddled with Race, who was fingering his rosary beads and praying softly in Latin, pausing every so often to start another prayer. Blink and Mush would join in, softly saying the words in English. "Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee....Blessed art thou among women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus."
He knew the words too, in English, Gaelic and Latin. He'd heard them many times through his life, more often when he was an alter boy while he lived at the orphanage, but even though he rarely set foot in a church now, and he sometimes wondered what he had done to make God forget him, he still knew the words. His voice was still, but he allowed the words to enter his mind,..../'Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death. Amen'/
Skittery, Specs, Bumlets, and the others, stood in small groups near the open grave and wooden coffin. Each saying prayers they had grown up with, or just stood silently sobbing with the weight of the day. No one cared that boys weren't s'posed to cry, or that they were tough street rats. They had lost part of their family, and they didn't care who knew it.
"Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed by thy Name. Thy kingdom come, thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven."
Dave and Les looked a little uncomfortable, they'd never been to a Catholic Church before, they stood near Race, but not completely part of the group, Les's cheeks were tear streaked, leaving his eyes and nose red. Only partly from the cold. Even Sarah had shown up. He hadn't expected that. She stood behind Les with one hand on his shoulder, the other holding a linen hanky to her face as she cried. He hadn't spoken to Sarah in months. He couldn't stomach looking at her, not after her betrayal. He turned his back to her, facing the grave.
Spot stepped forward and took a handful of soil from the frozen pile at his feet. Leaning over the grave, he dropped it. The chunks of dirt clattering on the wooden lid. He crossed himself and stepped back to his vantage point. "Ya awright Jack?"
The tall cowboy, scooped up a similar sized pile of earth. It was heavy in his hand. Everything was heavy to him now, his heart, his step. He swallowed hard, but the lump was still in his throat. He stepped forward to the edge of the grave. Closed his eyes, and said "Goodbye, Crutchy." Letting the soil slide through his fingers, to land, mixed with the other handfulls of dirt that were scattered across the casket. A lone tear snaked down his cheek.
"C'mon boy," Kloppman draped an arm gently over his shoulder. "Lets go home."
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