The Forever Gift

My shoes are perfect, a gift from my love, it gleams with shades of taupe and pulls with French kid buttons. Lemuel Baxter & Co out did themselves with this piece. My heels tap against the pavement. A shame the streets are so grimy as they will damage my gorgeous new shoes. I cannot stop staring, I wonder if people see me as shy, for surely, I am not but rather just in awe.

I look up and the streets are clear, not a sole in sight which is strange for Boston as the streets would be a buzz with drunken fella's falling out the pub doors and ladies flirting around the gentlemen callers in hopes of getting a penny or two so they can buy more silk for their dresses as they compete for favor in the brothel.

There are shadows in the street nearby, a huddle it seems, staring blankly at something. The usual I'm sure, a drunken fella who has stumbled and hit his head.

A gentleman whips his head around as he hears the clacking of my new shoes, he must know they new as he seems to be of wealth himself, with his wispy moustache and black top hat. He does not smile at me and whips his head towards the ''something'' on which my curiosity now slithers towards intrigue.

I stand at the back of the crowd, pushing myself onto my tippy toes, yet I still cannot see. I bend my way down, my dress scraping against the tar and my poor new shoes seeming to get tar burn as I crawl amongst the crowd to catch a glimpse of what has brought the town to a standstill.

The horror, the shock...

It's a child, looking to be nothing more than 13 years of age, pale with hints of blue and purple on those soft and delicate cheeks. The decaying has started to set in, the child must have passed away last night...not passed away it seems but, beaten for that is discoloration I see on the child's arms, bent bones and the apparent glimpse of dry tears as it appears the child was in agony.

"Move away, move away". John Moore shoves through, the sheriff of this town but everyone knows you do not get a haircut quite like his on a cop's salary. He has his two sidekicks beside him, we call them tag one and tag two because no one really knows their names just that they follow along like lost sheep frightened by the Moore wolf.

"Astonishing", Mr Moore appears to say under his breath. The coroner, a simpleton with spectacles that could study your soul, sets up and begins to examine the child's body. Time of death seems to be around 12 hours ago, reason it seems is a broken rib which appears to have pierced a lung. Family to be reported...blah blah blah...I just stare at the child, so innocent and so beautiful, such a shame to see this, and the spectacle, such a disgrace as if it's for pleasure and entertainment.

I kick my heel of my right shoe and twist myself around, away from these shadows and back into the abyss of dust and filth. I stop at Hawley's to purchase a beautiful silk blue ribbon. I walk back along the road, the ribbon twisting in my fingers, soft and smooth with the edges so finely sewn the seams do not break.

Click, click my new shoes go, smacking into the tar and I think oh so beautiful and wonderful these shoes are, my love out did himself.

***

My hair is down, so silky when I brush it. Its evening and my love is fast asleep, he is so stunning of a man, his hair so well-groomed and opulent. I begin to tuck under the covers, but I hear a whimper, and my eyes wonder towards the sound.

My precious child, the back of my hand strokes her cheek, wiping the wetness away, oh so smooth your cheeks are and how delicate those features. The beautiful new silk ribbon holding up those brunette locks.

Why do you shed those tears,

You are beautiful,

Oh, how much I adore you

You will be my wonder and my forever gift.

I slowly remove my hand from between those bars and my eyes glisten as I watch my forever gift stare back at me. I smile and I close my eyes.

Oh, so beautiful and wonderful she is, my love out did himself.