Livy Lynn

Golden leaves sparkled and danced in the gentle breeze, waving sweetly to the bustling city below. The ancient maple trees had lived through many changes. Hundreds of years passed since these European saplings first sprouted from the dirt. They had observed the transformation of dirt paths to cobblestone streets. Horse-drawn carriages were replaced with humming motor vehicles, and women in long lacy gowns now sported skinny-jeans and cell phones. Charming lamp-posts, yummy bakeries, and loud paperboys were the only thing on Main Street that hadn’t changed. If the trees could talk, they would tell you the tales. The tales of a noble Kingdom with the regal name of Tarsurella. 
 
The maples would open their wise mouths, and declare the stories of centuries past. But the trees had been subjected to silence, completely dependent on the mercy of men, disposable in their hands. The trees could not control whether they would be chopped down, or defended and preserved, yet they knew that the very pulse and purpose of nature itself, was to change. For without change, new life could not spring forth.  
 
The warm fall air was mixed with a dash of coolness, reminding the Tarsurellian citizens that winter would soon be knocking at their door. But the busy brains below were much too consumed with their hectic schedules and monstrous “todo” lists, to pause and ponder such truths. 
 
A slightly frazzled young man, nervous about being late for his first day of work, rushed down the sidewalk. A tender leaf fell right in front of his face, but his thoughts were elsewhere. Dressed in a midnight-black suit and classy olive-tone tie, his mother had cried happy tears as he prepared for his new employment that morning. “Oh, Hanson!” she sniffled. “My little boy is all grown up!”    
 
The eighteen-year-old fidgeted in front of the mirror, completely uncomfortable in the wake of his mother’s waterworks. He thought the uppity suit made him look like a stiff penguin. Nevertheless, it was the required work attire. Feeling awkward with his current image, Hanson slipped on a black leather jacket and pair of sunglasses, hoping to appear a little bit more casual on his stroll to work.  
 
“My dear boy, I hope you know how proud I am of you.” She gazed at him with ardent admiration, and tousled his messy black hair.  
 
Hesitant to show affection, yet tenderhearted toward his mother’s emotions, Hanson hugged his mother before leaving. “I love you,” he spoke to the misty-eyed woman, “and I never could have done this without you.” 
 
“Extra, Extra, Read All About It!” a loud voice cried, grabbing Hanson’s stray thoughts and pulling them back into the current moment. He glanced at the perky paper-boy who wore a pair of eighteenth-century knickers and suspenders. It was a familiar sight for Main Street. The historical downtown district of Tarsurella was filled with young employees dressed as characters from the past, a charming little element that gave tourists great enjoyment. “T-Minus Three Weeks and Counting!” The loud voice continued, “Prince Addison’s Royal Coronation is on the Horizon! Read all about how The Palace is preparing for the event of a lifetime!”

 

Hanson continued walking. In the past, he might’ve stopped to make a joke and tease the little nerd who got weaseled into such an embarrassing job. But not today. He bypassed his favorite doughnut shop and a necessary lifeblood – coffee – determined to arrive at the bus stop on time. If he missed this bus, he was doomed. Showing up late for his first day of work could be detrimental. 
 
As a native Tarsurellian, the city streets were forever mapped out in Hanson’s memory. He knew what areas to avoid during prime tourist season. The double-decker bus, which unloaded only a few blocks away from The Palace, would be full this morning. If there were any school groups loading up for a field trip, Main Street would be crammed. Hanson decided to take a back street instead. He turned into an alleyway.  
 
The backside of Tarsurella’s beautiful buildings weren’t so pretty. Graffiti-splattered walls and smelly lanes were hidden from the eyes of the general public. Hanson was well aware of the fact that many homeless people roamed this particular drag. Some citizens were plagued with an irrational phobia, as if the homeless community carried a freak desire to harm everyone, but Hanson never knew that to be true. There was a time in life where he and his mother were almost homeless. And who was there to help them through that rough patch in life? Some of the very same people on these ugly backstreets. 
 
Hanson anxiously glanced at his watch, he only had nine minutes to - 
 
“Umph!” All at once, without warning, someone plowed into Hanson like a steam-roller. The body smashed into him, pushing him off balance, and knocked him into a stone wall. The unsuspecting attack forced the wind out of him. Hanson gasped for air, trying to realize what just happened. 

​

A strong, burly man had pinned Hanson up against the wall, smooshing him there with his over-weight body. Hanson lifted his knee and smashed it into the offender. That caused the man to fall, stumbling several feet backwards. Hanson quickly readied himself in a fight stance. The previous blow had caught him off guard, but this time the foolish attacker wouldn’t stand a chance, now that Hanson was prepared to fight. Hanson’s fists pulsed with adrenaline, ready to defend himself, just like he had been trained to do.  
 
The large attacker didn’t waste any time and quickly made the first punch. Hanson dodged it, and returned the favor with one in his stomach. The attacker groaned, suddenly in pain from the unwelcome impact. Hanson leaped on the opportunity of weakness, and attempted to pin the man to the ground. But as he dove on top of him, another enemy rose from the shadows and blindsided Hanson. The next few seconds were like a wrestling match, as Hanson kicked and punched and dodged and rolled on the ground, attempting to defeat his foes. But it was two against one, and Hanson found himself pinned to the cement, struggling like a mouse in a trap. 
 
“That’s enough!” a voice echoed through the alleyway. Hanson fought to lift his head from the ground, desperate to see who was approaching. But a large hand pinned his head to the pavement, holding him victim by his hair. Hanson winced, ashamed to accept defeat.  
 
“Now, now, we don’t want to completely batter the boy before his first day of work.”  
 
Hanson froze. His entire body tightened up with rage and disgust. He recognized the voice.  
 
“Let the boy have some dignity,” the voice continued, “Stand him up on his feet.” The two attackers obeyed, and yanked Hanson up to a standing position. His dark tan face was scrunched up in anger, as he met the eyes of this despised man. 
 
“I never thought I’d live to see the day…” the man spoke in a belittling tone, “My own flesh and blood, working for the Royal Security Team at The Palace. And everyone said they thought you were going to end up like your old man.” He laughed mockingly.  
 
Hanson’s breathing quickened, as his estranged father’s face drew closer. Hanson hadn’t seen the man in close to six years. But he still hated him just as much as the day he left. “Why are you here?” Hanson growled, un-nerved by the fact that he had showed up in town again. Hanson wanted to sound fearless, but the hidden truth was that memories of this man still gave him nightmares.  
 
“Oh, come now,” the older-looking version of himself replied, “You don’t sound very happy to see your old man! I wanted to congratulate you on your job! It’s not every day that a kid your age is offered such an honored position. I know middle-aged men who would kill to be you. Forty-yearold guys back at the academy are struggling to land jobs like that. And look at you! Just barely eighteen, and already offered a position working for the Royal Family.” He whistled in amazement. 
 
“Just a tip–” Hanson spat bitterly, “next time you want to congratulate somebody, try balloons and a gift card. It might go over better than attacking them with two hitmen in an alleyway.”  
 
His dad chuckled, “I’ll keep that in mind.” He placed his hand on Hanson’s shoulder. “Now listen, I know that you and I haven’t had the best relationship over the years…” 
 
Hanson was seething. The hand on his shoulder reminded him of everything he wanted so desperately to forget.  
 
“But at the end of day I’m your dad, like it or not. You inherited my genetics. You have my same charming smile and deep brown eyes your mother fell for. Just like me, you were born to fight. You have all this frustrated, bottled up anger, afraid that you’re never gonna be enough in this life. Let me tell you something, you’re cut from the same cloth I am. After I ditched this town, I started working hard, going after what I wanted, and I made a life for myself. I don’t work for anybody. I do what I want, whenever I want, and I always come out ahead. No bosses, no contracts, no paperwork, and no frilly ties.” He paused and flicked Hanson’s tie. “Now today, you’re gonna go to work, take orders from your commander, work the long hours that he assigns you, and eventually feel restless and unfulfilled. Sure, you’ll be excited for a week or two. Heck, maybe even a month. But soon all the nostalgia is gonna wear off, and you’ll ache for adventure. You’ll want to be free, like I am. So I’m willing to make you an offer. Truth is, I need help with the family business, and you’re the only guy I’d trust with the job.” 
 
“You’re wrong,” Hanson hissed, “I am nothing like you. And I never will be. So get your grubby hands off of me, take your two morons, and get out of this town.” 

 

His dad pretended to be offended, and continued in his teasing tone, “Aw man, how can you talk to your old man like that? I’ll admit, I’m disappointed to hear that you don’t want me here; I was planning on dropping by the house and giving your mom a visit–” 
 
All at once, Hanson broke free from the men and their iron grips, and attempted to tackle his dad. “Stay away from her!” Hanson threatened with a shout. The large men quickly regained control of the situation and Hanson was again trapped and helpless.  
 
“Or what?” His father chuckled. “You’ll send the Secret Service after me?”  
 
Hanson wished with all his might that he could smack this crooked man in the face. He would never forgive him for their violent past. As a teary-eyed ten-year-old he vowed that nobody would ever hurt his mother again. And with every fiber of his being, Hanson intended to keep that promise. “You don’t know who you’re messing with.” He replied with distain, “The past is over. Mom and I are not on your puppet strings anymore. If you touch her, I will destroy you.”  
 
“Oh, you wanna make threats, do you?” Dad’s tone intensified, “Two can play that game.” He quickly dug into his pocket and slipped out a small micro-chip. “I tried to make my offer as nicely as possible, but if you want to be nasty, I can go there. Here’s the deal. You have access to something I want. And I’ll do whatever it takes to get it. We can either do this the easy way, or the hard way. So I’d recommend you listen closely and get to work. Tarsurella has the most elite security system in the world. Virtually impenetrable. Created by an underground brainiac who excels in the wizardry of computer programing, the processing code for this program is worth twenty-five-million dollars. Twentyfive mill! Get me the code on this chip, and I’ll see to it that you’re set for life. I’m willing to give you a percentage of the profits, since, after all, you are my own son.” He smiled wickedly, “Just think of it. No bosses, no orders and no alarm clocks. It’s freedom, my boy. Get the code and you’ll never have to work another day in your life.”      
 
“Yeah sure,” Hanson laughed bitterly, “Twenty-five-million dollars and life in prison. I’m not gonna break the law and do your dirty little crimes for you.” 
 
“You may want to rethink your position,” he spoke as he slipped his hand into Hanson’s pocket and took out his cellphone. Hanson tensed up, concerned with what he might do. He took the back off his phone, and placed the microchip inside. Then he returned it to its home in his pocket, “Because in case I wasn’t clear enough, this isn’t a request, or a multiple choice quiz testing your morality. You’ve got three weeks. If I don’t have this chip back, with the code, by the night of Prince Addison’s Coronation, it’s all over for you.” 
 
“I’m not afraid of you.” Hanson boldly proclaimed, “You can use all the bluffs and blackmail you want, but it doesn’t mean anything to me. I would rather die than stoop to your snaky level, rolling around in the pile of putrid trash that you are.” 
 
Hanson’s dad placed an angry hand around his neck, offering just enough pressure to invoke fear. Hanson struggled to breathe. Mr. Fletcher lowered his voice to a terrifying whisper, spitting right in his face, “If you fail this mission, your mother will pay the price. I’ll rip her apart, piece by piece, and I’ll see to it that you are fully alive to endure every hellish moment of it.” With one final blow, he threw his son up against the brick wall, and watched him slide down to the ground.  
 
He commanded his evil cohorts to leave. “Our work here is done,” he glared at his son who gasped for air, struggling to stand up once more. “You’ve got three weeks. Don’t disappoint me.”