“Another conflict between spouses that I have to calm down. The third one I go to this week. You’d say I’m a social worker for family conflicts. And this weather ...”, Officer Gangsley complained to himself, because he had no one else to complain to.
Even though he could stay at the warm headquarters with his cigars, he decided to leave with the other two without saying anything. When he took the oath to protect anyone in need, he didn’t set the condition to be there only when he liked it, or when it was clear and warm outside. No, the condition was: whenever needed.
And anyone would agree with him - who could live thinking that he could rescue someone in a difficult situation, but he decided not to do it? Any situation, even trivial at first, could eventually degenerate remarkably, so Mr. Gangsley decided to do everything in his power to save that misunderstanding between spouses.
Not only once had he saved a man's life, arrived in time where his presence was necessary. And on top of that, these two - he pointed to the two officers – can’t find their way when the sky is clear, map in their hand, not to mention this kind of weather, thought the experienced Scotland Yard officer, Gangsley Taylor.
Suddenly, Officer Jones began to express anger and his thoughts moved lips surrounded by beard and moustache, in the rhythm of cold drops fallen from the clouds, colour of darkness.
“I don’t get the point of these people who, although they hardly manage to support their families, always find money to buy liquor that takes their minds. Then they can't help blowing off steam on each other. I feel like ...”
But he stopped. He looked confused left and right, then questioningly raised his narrow shoulders, as he did almost every time they went on a mission, trying to tell the others they were a little lost.
Officer Gangsley, with his calm nature, never discouraged, restored hope to the other two:
“We turn right at the first crossroads. We’re close. My senses don’t deceive me.”
Mr. Gangsley's senses were based in fact on the information he got from Mrs. Stone, who carefully told him that to get to the house where the two spouses argued, it was necessary to take a turning to the right in Sun Street, at the junction of Sun Street and Constellation Street. When they reached the end of the former street they definitely found Moon Street. And they could soon arrive to the house in question.
“So you’ll be quickly here,” said Mrs. Stone. And she also told them to hurry.
The discussion and indications from police station callers like talkative Mrs. Stone’s encouraged Mr. Gangsley Taylor to boast with fine smell and sight like a feline’s.
But even so bragger at times, Officer Gangsley always managed to show the two disoriented guys the way. He was sometimes surprised himself about his ability.
Who knows, maybe I really have some qualities of a feline, he giggled whenever everything went well.
After all today, if these skills really existed, they were deeply lost somewhere in Mr. Gangsley's persona. They didn’t help him too much, because he didn’t notice that curious apparition whom they overcame running and who was now at about fifteen feet away from them.
And that dubious shadow that seemed to be man, came now unobserved behind them, taking advantage of the dullness when no one could notice him.
Even if something urged Gangsley Taylor to stop from time to time to look back, as he still felt there was a presence behind them, he quickly came to his senses and continued his journey without doing that. He had no time for nonsense thinking they’re chased by ghosts or other baffling, evil creatures.
So he stopped only once to see if there was a man following them, because it couldn’t be something else. Withal, as he couldn’t see anything but only remained behind the others, he gave up doing that.
There’s no point, Gangsley, you fool. Surely your mind is playing tricks on you because of the weather ... What kind of human has the courage to venture outside in this weather and try to mess with some law enforcement officers from Scotland Yard? Who are also armed above all ..., the officer reproached himself for the crap crossing his mind at that time.
However, if he noticed around the still lit streetlights that shadow moving gingerly not to be seen behind them, perhaps he’d change the opinion deeply imprinted in his mind. He’d think again if he really saw that morbid face.
As for the views, they might change both in his mind and in others’, taking into account the events that would follow that rainy spring night.
That dead silence was finally interrupted by Officer Jones:
“Here we are. Moon Street. You’re a true phenomenon, Gangsley”, he squeezed out a smile that seemed to say we are saved, buddies.
After glancing at Officer Taylor, as if he hoped to discover miraculously, his peculiar ability, to lead them to the right destination every time, the officer continued:
“There must be number 3. The lights are on.”
Gangsley gazed at the indicator at the crossroads right next to him, barely clinging to a screw, about to fall at any moment. Indeed, the sign said Moon Street.
“I told you,” the sneaky weasel said.
He looked at the house that was different from the others. A nice, well-kept house. Moreover, it had two lamps in the small, crowded courtyard, gracefully arranged. Even number 3 that was now in a reversed position, who knows why, forming the letter m, looked in good shape, as if someone recently clasped it to the little gate at the entrance. Very clean, as if it were new, but still predicted something sad, since it was overturned.
It was impossible not to notice, at least on a sunny day, that the rest of the houses in the area were plastered so badly that even the bricks could be seen. If by chance you had a look at some of them, you’d wonder how come the light beyond them didn't get through the holes in the walls so old and damaged they were.
All the same, something was strange to even the most rational people on Earth, like Officer Gangsley Taylor when he looked at that house. It seemed to him that in front of the house there was a wolf. No ... I don't think I can see well. First that apparition ... and now. It can't be possible ... it’s a huge dog for sure, so old that he can't move anymore. That's why he seems to be seated, looking at the lighted windows, with closed curtains, apparently trying to make out what is going on behind them - the officer thought. Damn weather, it makes you go crazy, Taylor. Snap back…! he kept arguing with himself.
Meanwhile, something didn’t allow him to properly snap back. And that something was the image probably common any other day, not that rainy and cold night.
Near that dog there was a frightened cat cramped in a small crack in the old, mouldy wall, at less than three steps away from him. The cat looked at him with fear as if she thought her end was there. Still, the hound didn't even care about her, which was strange.
Instead of doing what any canine representative of the species would do - actually crazy enough to sit outside at that time - try to warm up his body running after that cat or at least bark and howl at her to keep alive the never ending game between dogs and cats, this strange big guy sat quietly, spying the house at number 3 on Moon Street. As if the fate of humanity depended on that.
Howbeit the strangest thing was that the dog seemed to be hiding from someone. Probably from the people inside, because when the curtain was touched letting sparks of light from inside out, the wolf-dog pulled away into a murky corner so he couldn’t be seen. After a few moments, he returned to the same place where he was a few moments ago.An event, somehow interesting for Gangsley, in which if he let himself trapped, he’d surely go insane. Fortunately, everything ended when the three officers got close to the animal less than twenty steps, and he, feeling spotted, briefly looked at the officers and went away as if his reaction were normal.Impossible to be a wolf, because there can’t be wolves there, not even on the outskirts of London. And in no case so gentle. But ... if I were to think better ... his behaviour was unusual, even for a dog, Officer Taylor kept getting lost in his thoughts anxiously.Nonetheless, he calmed down and interrupted
Officer Wheatstone, however, looked at the stylish guy, inquiring.“Excuse me ... did you say something Mr. Dragoesti?”“No”, he said sharply.So Officer Wheatstone went on:“There’s never been a similar case in London before. You can imagine, all newspapers will write about ...”Anyhow, Mr. Vlad didn’t listen to the police officer. He got close to the nightstand the policeman hit, next to which several things were spread.He picked up a notebook that looked like a diary with golden cover, but there wasn’t anything written there. Vlad opened it and saw only blank pages as white as freshly milked moo juice. He dropped it back on the floor, because it was useless to him.He then picked up a photo frame that was facedown. The glass protecting the photo was broken because of that young officer’s awkwardness ... and because of the Commander who yelled at him, of course.The
As he went out of the building he noticed that the rain stopped. Outside, near that neat building, there were some police officers busy with evidence loading into their carriages.He walked away from those officers and looked around as if he searched for someone. He couldn’t see anyone, but he heard a voice:“Here I am, my count ...”Vlad Dragoesti turned his head and even behind him, he saw the person he looked for and who popped up out of the blue. His face was covered, probably to protect it against the cold. But he still seeme to have something to hide.“Come on! We are leaving,” said Mr. Vlad as he made a sign with the staff to the carriage in which he came.The carriage moved closer. The two got in and sat on the bench in the posh carriage, drawn by two horses that were equally high-class and stunning.The man with covered face asked:“Master, how about the child? He might mess with us a
It was a starry, bright sky, unexpected to see in central London. We all know there are billions of stars on the stellar sky ... but that night they seemed to be at least twice as many. There was almost no need for street lamps or moonlight. The moon looked like a big carriage lazing in the sky trying to throw her weight around the little stars.It was so nice outside, even though it was so cold, that anyone lying on the roof of the orphanage “Angel’s hand”, did not regret that light show in the sky.“It's wonderful ...” the silence was broken by a crystalline voice of a little girl. It was Elizabeth Catherine Edwards, who was to celebrate the fine and wonderful age of nine.Yet, her face could not be seen, because it was completely covered just like a Bedouin’s in the desert, covered in thick, old blankets from head to toe because of the biting cold outside.“Yes ... and you didn't want to come up here. It'
It was the shadow of the person who followed the two girls as they were lying on the roof of the orphanage lost in their thoughts of the constellations.A shadow projected by a body covered with a black cape, under which only the ends of a dress could be seen and under the hood of which a large, snub nose, full of warts stuck out.The person hiding under that cape so that no one could discover who she was started to move down that narrow corridor. Two people next to each other could hardly be able to go through.That person stopped softly at every door, listening to check if there was any noise from the rooms where the children slept.She lingered some more time by the door of the bedroom where Elizabeth and Dorothy slept. As she did not hear anything, she opened the door very slowly, as it used to make strange noises when opened and stuck her odious and monstrous nose into the room, as if she sniffed around.The truth is that eyes couldn’t h
“If it were poisonous, something should happen to me so far as she keeps beating me pretty often ...”Elizabeth laughed when she saw her friend’s fearful look.“Clark told me this. I found it interesting and I wanted to share it with you. You almost believed me,” the girl smiled working hard to sweep the floor.“That’s not true.”The girls giggled together, enjoying each other as if they were not two orphaned children, but two happy sisters.“Miss Blackwood is coming!” yelled a small boy, as thin as a stick.Suddenly, the corridors of the orphanage were filled with children, who would become like little worker bees when the queen bee came to visit.Some of the children wiped the floor with some damp cloth where Dorothy and Elizabeth just swept the area. Other children made their beds again – they do it several times a day to prevent being reprimanded for not doing anyth
Some girls, about thirteen years old, gathered in a bedroom by one bed, although time to sleep was announced by Miss Blackwood’s yells and screams more than fifteen minutes ago.The children gathered around Elizabeth's bed. The bed where she would sleep for the first time without Dorothy, her best friend.The blonde girl, unable to sleep, kept herself busy with a thing she used to do most of the time when she felt restless.She organized some stuff in that bed. There was a narrow, pinched pot on the bed, its upper part being covered with a canvas that had some small figures cut into it. The bottom of that old and parched pot was completely missing, and on one side it had a bigger crack. At the bottom the pot had a piece of a blurred and broken mirror, with the mirror facing the upper part. There were some more pieces of mirror on the windowsill and on a small almost damaged nightstand. The one on the cold sill faced the dusty window, and the one on the nig
It's been more than two weeks since Dorothy Miller left the orphanage, but it seemed to Elizabeth that a human lifespan passed since then. She still did not get used to the thought that she would never see again the one who was always with her. That’s why, she seemed to see her every day sitting at the table where they usually ate, waiting for her in their room, or going down the stairs ... Not once did she run after her, grabbed her by hand, took her in her arms and held her tight and ... and only then did she see that it wasn't Dorothy Miller, but another girl. Every time it was like this ... Could it be anything harder than losing the last person who really cared about you? The only family you ever had ... when you were meant to not have no family ... … “Hello,” an elegantly dressed gentleman, wearing a long black coat to his knees over an expensive suit, with lacquered leather shoes, as only a lord could wear greeted respectfully. Th