Here is the "Oliver Twist" pastiche story that I have just completed!
http://www.amazon.com/Quigsnip-Untold-Charles-Dickens-Oliver/dp/150063476X/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1409418750&sr=1-1&keywords=quigsnip
Here is an excerpt, BTW:
“You stole the
money, Oliver! That you did! The money's here, Oliver!” Quigsnip held forth the familiar silk sack containing the
inheritance money. “It's all here, Oliver! I checked! Oh, what a
kind, brave, selfless, lad you are! Such a pity not one farthing will
be spent on account of the children!”
“N-no!” cried Oliver, his thin,
soprano voice nearly breaking with anguish, “You're lying!” But
in his despairing heart, Oliver knew his monstrous captor spoke the
truth.
“Am I?” roared Quigsnip,
his voice filling with fury. “Just wait, boy, until the London
Times runs the article! 'Oliver Twist Guilty of Robbing
Shaftesbury's Charity!'” He snatched a letter from his pocket and
held it out for Oliver to see. “And here is irrefutable proof of
your guilt, and your personal indictment Dr. Losberne, right on this
letter in your own handwriting! Not even your contemptible family can
spare you now! Now, not even your dear Rose and Mr. Brownlow will
believe you!”
“NOOOOOOOOO!” wailed
Oliver, in anguished misery. The boy fell on his knees, head
downcast.
The men jeered at him.
Limbkins, though he would not liked
to have admitted it, was terribly unsettled at the moment, more so
now by the boy's harrowing cry.
Noah swaggered over to where Oliver
slumped. “'Ow do ya like it now, Nolly?” the older lad sneered.
“'Ow's that fer breaking my nose back at Sowerberry's?”
To Claypole's astonishment, the
smaller boy sprang to life. Oliver sprang from his position like a
stroke of lightening and drove his small, hard fist into Claypole's
nose with savage force.
Noah reeled back, screaming and
clutching his face.“My nose! 'Ee broke my bloody nose! Oliver broke
it again!”
Oliver stood before his towering
captors, tears of rage leaking down his cheeks, his small hands
closed into fists.
“What are you dolts waiting for?”
Quigsnip ordered. “Get him!”
Oliver stood his ground, but there
was nothing such a small, slim boy could do against the burly adults.
They seized the frail lad and dragged him to the edge of a pier.
“Now--”ordered the monstrous
Quigsnip. “Bind him.”
The men bound Oliver's arms behind
his back with heavy ropes. Two of them carried concrete blocks over
to where they had Oliver bound.
“Do his feet,” Quigsnip ordered.
They lashed the heavy weights to
Oliver's thin legs.
As the boy stood in a stupor of
despair, arms and legs bound on the edge of the pier, Quigsnip
ordered his gang to step back.
Oliver was past caring. If what
Quigsnip said was the truth, he didn’t care if he died.
Quigsnip stepped forward, an
oily grin on his face. “And so I bid you a final farewell, young
Oliver Twist. At last you've paid the price for the money I've lost,
and for what your family did to me, the richest crime-lord in London!
You'll serve as a prime of example of why no one ever crosses
Zebedias Quigsnip and lives to boast of it! Know that that doctor
friend of yours will pay along with you! Despair, young Oliver—and
die!
With that, Quigsnip slashed out savagely with one leg. His booted foot smashed into the
boy's middle with tremendous force. The wind knocked out of him,
Oliver was propelled backward by the force. The bound boy flew of the
pier. The polluted water surged over his head.
In seconds, Oliver was swallowed by
the Thames.
No comments:
Post a Comment