The Chronicles of Mr. Black
Today is the day. The sun is warming my face. From my open balcony I can see my garden. It is beautiful. My castle is huge. I can see over the many trees surrounding me. It really makes me feel secluded and cut off from the rest of the world. Not to mention it all sits on top of an island. My island.
I am Mr. Black. I am old now, but I have been through a lot in my life. I know what I want. I know what I like. I am a man of great power. I own everything on this island, and I have earned all of it. Everything from cobblestone walkway from the steps of my front door all the way down to the front gate.
I am a man of rules and order. I am awake and ready for the day and watching the sun rise in the distance. I can just barely see as the sun touches the water first. Almost as if it rises from the sea. And now it is above my trees and warming me and the suit that I wear. It is a black suit. Everything is black. The jacket, the pants, the shirt, the socks, the tie, and even my black fedora hat. My hat does have a dark red silk ribbon at the base circling it and folded ever so nicely.
I can smell the hollandaise sauce being whisked together with lemon and paprika. I can hear my black coffee being poured for me. I grab my cane off the banister of my balcony and enter back into my room. The Canadian bacon searing on the burner. I make my way to the stairs. Jingle jingle, the sound of bells. I am almost to the dining room door, three two...
"Mr. Black." A woman's voice calls. "Oh, you're already here." She is startled to see me coming through the door. " Breakfast is..."
"Yes, I can see that, thank you." I said. "That will be all Bell. You may leave me now."
Bell is my handmaiden. She is standing next to the dining room table and has just placed down my breakfast in front of my chair, at the head of the table. She isn't very tall; she only stands right up to my chin. Her hair is brown like the color sand from beach. It is tied back in a French braided ponytail. And her eyes are blue to match. Her skin is soft, but pail. And she wears her uniform as she is supposed to. It is a traditional maid outfit. It's a soft black maid dress with white lacy trim. The skirt come to about her knees with a low-cut top. In the front is a cute little black bowtie. And most importantly there are bells attached in the front. Two rows of bells that line the front of her torso. A total of seven and even number in each row.
Bell nods and leaves the room. Today is the day. I sit down at the table and begin to enjoy my breakfast. It's a long table. I still sit here at the head of the table. A lot of great and powerful people use to sit here on either side of this table and not to mention the one who used to sit at the opposite end.
Men and women handpicked by me sat hear. Each one was chosen to lead a task and to fill a roll in my organization. Together we owned almost a third of the world. What great days...
Snapping back to reality from reminiscing is Bell. She is standing in the doorway timidly. " Sir." She says to me from the door.
"Yes, what is it." I said, purposefully being dry and cold.
"We have a guest." She said.
Being on an island we don't get visitors. Someone would already have had knowledge of this place. Not to mention we've only been having one unwanted announce frequent here lately. Suddenly the door opens wider and a woman barges through shoving Bell out of the way. She pulls out the chair on my right and sits herself down.
"You can leave us. Thank you, Bell." I said to her.
Bell left and the door swung shut behind her. The woman sitting next to me is tall and fit, like an athlete. She is wearing a tight pant suit. It is a grey top and bottom with black pin stripes. The top jacket is low cut and buttons in the front, revealing a baby blue shirt underneath. Her blonde hair is pulled back real tight in a bun. It all gives her a real uptight look about her. I've known this girl since she was little. Her father sat at this table. At the very same chair she is sitting in now. I know why she is here.
"You know why I am here Black." She said in frustration.
"Refresh my memory again Becky." I taunt.
"Don't call me that!" She demands. " I'm not a little girl anymore. It's Rebecca. Listen I need my father's file. You know what I'm talking about. I'm here, now as a courtesy call. I know I'm not going to get what I want easily, but the new guys in charge of things will be coming by sometime tomorrow. And they're not going to ask nice. "
"I appreciate the heads-up Becky." I said.
"The only reason I'm coming a head of time to tell you is because of my father's memory. What the two of you have been through. The world is moving on without you and the world would benefit with my father's hard work in those files." Becky said.
"All due respect, but that was work he did for me. It could still do a lot of good if we had the old gang back." I said
"But you don’t, and everybody is dead. Besides old man you're not the one on top no more. Everyone is under his control now..."
"And now you’re his puppet." I interrupt. "So, what, you rat me out Becky. You tell him where I am and what I got. And now you feel guilty. I wonder how your father would have felt about this."
"It's called surviving. If you can't beat them join them." She lectured.
" I thought I taught you all better than that." I said.
"You have until tomorrow." She said as she got up from her chair.
"Bell." I called.
"Yes sir." Bell replied as she stumbled her way back into the dining room.
"It would seem our friendly little visit is at an end." I answered. "Please show Becky her way out."
"Yes sir Mr. Black." Bell said.
Bell left the way to the front door. Becky was following behind her when she stopped at the dining room door, halfway out and looked back at me and said, "Why is it you still continue to call that poor girl by that ridiculous nickname."
"Have a nice life Becky." I said. "For your own good don't come back here. Understand?"
"Tomorrow old man. Do the right thing. " She warns. With that she was gone.
Why do I call
her Bell? Because of the bells on her maid's uniform. I gave her that name a
long time ago. I found that girl. I brought her here. I taught her everything
she knows, how to eat, how to speak, how to dress, and much more. She is not
the only one. I have built and molded many people into better versions of
themselves. Thinking back to the very first person I Can recall helping would
have to be a man named Charlie.