The Window Of Corruption

A Fresh Start

One Year Earlier

Crash! Crash! Crash!

I shuddered as the water collided with the boat, the impact making me grab the metal pole on the side for support. The ship was shattering the surface of the sea, the hulking vessel producing vast amounts of smoke and soot. I had to take short, quick breaths so I wouldn't inhale any particles of soot.

A journey that what had seemed like an eternity had almost come to an end. The surroundings of the ship had become very familiar over the past few days and I almost thought of it as home. I steadily ventured towards the front of the ship, I stumbled a couple of times due to the instability of the floor and the fierce wind that persuaded my movement. In addition, water continued to splash onto the deck, making it extra perilous. After what seemed like an arduous trek I arrived at the front of the ship and peered ahead.

My vision was obstructed by the harsh winds and torrential rain that for some reason seemed to be in an all out war with me. Added to this was the thick fog that negated any objects being recognized past a few metres in front of me. Nevertheless, I could still make out the silhouette of a few dozen skyscrapers littering the sky. Their lights illuminating the city, this was it, this was New York City.

As the ship finally approached the city, the luminous glow lit up the hollow surroundings around the boat as it pulled into the harbour. You could hear the bustling workers muttering away and smell the stench of fuel and smog polluting the atmosphere. Even so, the aroma was quite ... refreshing; it was a welcome change to the smell of sea water.

"Tobiasz! Hurry up!" A voice yelled, almost a whisper among the commotion of the harbour, yet the voice was unmistakable. It was my Grandmother Marianna; her voice was shortly followed by the all too familiar clunk of her walking stick as it hit the ship floor. I quickly returned to the main deck of the ship to find my grandparents stumbling up the stairs with their hands full of luggage. I relinquished them of their luggage and pointed to the left to signal our way off the ship.

"I'll be happy to stand on solid ground again" My Grandfather Borys chuckled while rotating 360 degrees to take in his new surroundings after being submerged in the cabins for the past six days.

"Come on let's get off this boat" I said, half asking and half demanding, I had become sick of this boat and towards the end of the journey it felt like a prison. As we approached the docking bridge I heard a distinct thud behind me, in fact I felt it more than heard the thud. I twisted around to see my grandmother struggling to push herself up off of the metal floor of the ship. I immediately drop the luggage to aid her.

"One too many of those and I won't be here much longer" She joked yet I could tell she had some seriousness in her voice.

My Grandma Marianna was eighty years old and had definitely been worn down over the years. She was a small woman, only about five feet tall yet when she was angry she seemed to be a lot taller. She was a fierce woman and strong willed and you did not want to get on the wrong side of her. Once upon a time she had owned a very successful bakery which she governed for almost twenty five years before it was burnt to the ground by an arsonist. I was only eleven at the time yet I remember vividly the bakery blazing in an inferno of flames and my Grandmothers face, looking utterly devastated.

Me and my grandad tried to convince her to open up a new bakery, with the insurance money we could have made it even better than the old one. However my grandma was insistent that there was only one "Marianna's piekarnia" and that one had been lost to the flames. When she was seventy one years old she slipped and fell down the stairs of our house. She had broken her hip and that is the reason she requires the walking stick to be mobile.

On the other hand my Grandfather was in excellent shape for an eighty year old. Although time and stress had worn him down too, he had so far not encountered any serious injury in his old age and was a very healthy and fit man. He was very optimistic and always managed to make a bad situation seem good. He pretty much always wore the same attire of a flat cap, brown trousers and an array of different patterned shirts to compliment his glasses and eternal moustache.

After about a five minute wait to leave the ship we eventually stepped foot onto solid land and were officially in New York City at last. I had rented a small two bedroom apartment in Brooklyn for six months. It was extremely cheap from what I researched on the currency exchange rate and knew that the pictures on the website were too good to be true. I'm not an optimist like my granddad, but I'm not a pessimist either. I'm a realist and expected what was likely to happen was that the apartment would be disgusting and barely worth the money I paid for it.

In the distance I swear I heard the echoed sound of a gun being fired, we all paused for a moment before hearing the sound again, this time closer. Before we could do anything else a young man appeared from one of the buildings started sprinting across the road, terrified nearly being hit by the oncoming traffic. No more than 5 seconds later another man came into sight with an evil, determined look on his face; he had his eyes on this young man and ignored everything else. After being a bit spooked we decided to forget the whole situation, as much as I'd liked to have helped we had only just got here and keeping my grandparents safe was the first priority.

The three of us had finally abandoned the streets of Koszalin in Poland to live in 'The Land of Opportunity'. My grandad kept going on about 'The American Dream' on the journey here and how we were going to 'make it big in America', however I was more sceptical. But either way, it was a fresh start.