Dealings of Secrets

It had always been this way; People would stare as I walk by with this clown master of mine. You see I am a part of what you call "underground smuggling." Things were different when I was young. I had a family. But then... there was the Cold war; and everything that I held dear to me was taken from me. I was left an orphan on the streets of St. Petersburg. Wandering, I searched for shelter and some possible food. All the people who saw me, quickly glanced at me with a head shake of disapproval. You would think that people would have been more understanding, since people were dying by the thousand.

It was a harsh winter, and I was struggling to find anything. Having no food, no shelter, I stumbled in what was left of my shoes, through the snow. I wrapped myself tighter in the fur coat, I luckily found while wandering the streets. The wind picked up, the snow falling harder and more constant. I felt like I was going to die. I was on the verge of passing out when Pavel saved me. In a long coat, and suit, he took me to his home. The circus. He raised me, and took me in when nobody else would. He is my savior. And to return the favor, I am his assistant. Despite the fact, that I would rather not be involved in this “business,” I am grateful to have someone to call my family; even though he’s always in the clown costume. But what are you to do when you are a man being hunted and your smuggling illegal substances?

These men we have recently begun dealing with, are suspicious to me. They keep staring and they tend to whisper to each other when they think Pavel is not looking. Whisper, whisper, whisper. These monsters stare at me with lustful eyes. I scoot closer to Pavel, clinging onto his sleeve from behind, in an unnoticeable manner. He understand my fear, and looks to me, cigarette in his mouth, before continuing his talk of business. As the men keep conversing, I see something in the distance on the building, straight across from this Oceanside restaurant. Squinting, I see him. It’s an assassin, and I’m probably sure he is a part of the same group these two hooligan idiots are in that are talking to Pavel. Discreetly, I tap his shoulder three times. He knows the signal. Pavel rushes to stand, grabbing me, beginning to duck for cover, and then I hear a BANG.

Painting by Edward Hopper