I just waken up from a deep sleep after a day of getting fitted and tailored for a special wedding. Anyways, I have some new stuff I want to show you. Frist is a new piece of art that I have made recently:
Second is the newest chapter of “Gypsy Adventures & Romance”:
Chapter 7: Picturesque
Florence, 3:49 pm
Its late afternoon. I had gotten an early start at 5 am. I’ve taken a bus across France, did some hitchhiking, then took another bus, and am now in the city of Florence. The buildings here are so modest and the people are very kind. Currently, I’m in a café. I’ve decided to take a break to eat, since I haven’t had any breakfast yet, saved for the tea and crumpets that Belle gave me this morning.
She was so sweet; she brought me my dinner last night and saw me off this morning, I can’t image a small child to wake up that early, but I suppose she really cared for me. I felt compelled to be absolutely polite every time I was around her, I swear she has this aura of courteousness that forbidden me to even think about being rude. Her eyes were truly precious. Her parents must be so proud. Enough daydreaming, once I finish my meal I will continue my mission.
By the time he was finished with his entry, the waitress was already at his table. The young brunette carried a silver tray in one hand and placed his order on the table with the other. He thanked the waitress, speaking in the best Italian he could. Atop the table was a small cup of coffee companied by a piece of cinnamon toast that was placed on a small, blue plate. He took hold of the cup, pushed it against his lips, and took a sip.
He sat at one of the small round tables outside of the red-bricked café. The smell of freshly brewed coffee and baked confectionaries were radiating from the kitchen and flowing out of the café’s many windows. The late morning sun bathed the him and the shop in a soft light while bluebirds sung in the distance. The city streets were busy with people on their daily routine. The whole street, along with the people, the shop and the buildings next to it, was like a sense from a photograph, peaceful and serene.
The table shook abruptly, alarming Knight. A teenage boy, about sixteen years old, wearing a cotton red shirt, torn gray pants, and a cap that was facing backwards, sat in the chair opposite to Knight, after spinning it around so he could sit in it backwards. His skin was an ashy gray while his short hair was a bright red. His brown eyes stared through Knight, then, in a croaky voice, he said: “Having a nice day, are we?”
Before Knight could response another boy of the same age and wearing the same clothes of the other boy appeared beside him. This boy was of a bronzed color, with a bald head, and a lone earring on his right ear. Then a young, brunette, rosy-cheeked girl wearing the exact same clothes as the boys appeared behind Knight.
Immediately, like a hard rock of dread settling in his stomach, Knight knew the intentions of these teens were not innocent. “I beg your pardon, but I think you have the wrong man.” He said to the gray boy. He started to move away from the table, only to be stopped by the girl, who was firmly holding him in his chair with her hands.
“Leaving so soon?” Asked the girl. “That’s a little rude.”
An arm belonging to the croaky voiced boy reached across the table and quickly seized Knight’s journal. He began to read the latest entry. “You like little girls, mister?” He asked. “Your little diary talks about a girl. A ‘small child’ with ‘precious eyes’.” He scowled as he quoted from the journal. “What was her name, mister? ‘Belle’? Was that her name?”
Knight was about to took snatch the journal from the boy, when the other boy grabbed his wrist. He eyed the sleeve of Knight’s suit. “That’s some suit, mister. Looks expensive.” He began to smile as his gaze turned to Knight’s face. “Did your rich daddy buy for you?” He asked.
“You obviously got a lot of money.” Said the red-haired boy. “A lot of money that you don’t deserve, you…sick creep.”
He quickly pulled his wrist out of the grip of the bald boy with bronzed skin. He inhaled deeply, soothing the anger collecting inside of him. “Firstly children,” He began calming. “I haven’t seen my biological father since I was an infant.”
“Aw boo hoo.” Mocked the brunette girl. “We’re still going to mug you.”
“Secondly, you were reading that entry out of context.” The red-haired boy’s eye widened. He knew Knight was referring to him and that made him angry. Before the boy would response, Knight spoke. “Thirdly, you shouldn’t rob random people-” The trio of teenagers exploded with laughter while Knight’s left hand went to the reach inside his coat. Sewed inside the right side of the carbon-colored coat, was a pocket made to holster a flintlock pistol.
The laughter quickly died down and was replaced by silence accompanied by three pairs of eyes staring at Knight’s hand. It held the polished, glossy metal that was the handle of the pistol. “Like I was saying,” Knight began. “You shouldn’t rob random people because you’ll never know when you’ll become the target.”
The rosy-cheeked girl and the bald boy took quickly stepped away from Knight while the croaky voiced boy leapt out of his seat, nearly tripping over himself in the process. Knight, remaining calm, stood up from his seat, looked at the red-haired, croaky voiced boy, and said: “I would like my journal back now, if you don’t mind.”
The boy vigorously threw the journal toward Knight, who caught it effortlessly with one hand. The trio shouted phrases like “This isn’t over!” and “We got you back!” at Knight as they ran farther away from the café. When they finally disappeared into an alleyway, Knight placed the pistol back in its holster and stuffed the journal into his jacket. It was then that he noticed that the other patrons were now covering under their tables. Knight, slightly confused, gestured for the other patrons to come up from under their tables, which they did.
Suddenly, the same brunette waitress that served Knight the coffee and toast came running out of the café. “Signor!” She cried. “Signor, are you unharmed?!” She stopped in front of Knight, fear etched into her face. “I phoned the police the moment those three showed up! They didn’t harm you in any way, did they? I’m sorry; I was too scared to come out.”
Knight shook his head. “Don’t worry, I am alright. Tell me, who were those kids, and why were your customers hiding just now?”
The waitress drew in a breath, as her left elbow came to rest in the palm of right hand. Her left hand was clutched into a fist that was pressed up against her chest. “They’re the members of a local gang.” She revealed. “I’m not sure of the name of the gang, but I do know that they like to wear red and that they like to harass the citizens of Florence for whatever reason they can find.” Her eyebrows knitted and her mouth turned into a frown.
“Do they always rudely insult people while they’re robbing them?” Asked Knight.
“I don’t know, signor.” Answered the waitress. “Their intentions are unclear.”
She continued, “If you ask me they’re just after money, especially those three. I have seen those three around here before; they are nuisances! They scare away potential customers and it’s bad for business!”
“Sounds troubling indeed.” Said Knight. He was about to ask more questions when the sounds of the sirens were heard racing toward the café. Within minutes the Florence police surrounded the area and were questioning the patrons of the café, including Knight and the brunette waitress. Since the waitress was quick to tell the officers everything that had happened, Knight didn’t have to explain much, saved for how he was able to scare off the trio. He told the officers about his pistol and the authorizations they allowed him to carry it on his person.
As soon as he was freed from questioning, Knight headed for the closest phone booth. Luckily for him, the booth became soundproofed the moment he closed the door. He spun the wheel of the rotary dial phone and waited. Then, someone picked up on the other end. “This is Knight.” He said into the phone. “Yes. I believe I got a lead on our thief.”
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