Promachus' Journal

A Letter to Ben

Dear Ben

I'm sorry about all the trouble and stuff that is coming, Ben. I just wanna say that first.

You probably heard by now that I run away. I don't know what they tole you, but they probably didn't tell you everything. I got adopted and stuff, and for a while, they was really nice people.

Only, they didn't stay that way.

They said that they were from some Family. Only not like our family, but like a crime family. Like wiseguys, I think, like on TV. Remember that movie that Dad really liked, the one with Scarface? Kinda like that.

They adopted me, and they started asking all kinds of questions about you. They waited a long time, and when they gave me mail (like from the adoption people, or from my old friends at school), it was always opened already. They was looking for you. So, I memorized your address, and tore out those pages from my notebooks and burned them.

Then, they started getting mean. They got madder and madder. Finally, I heard some of those wiseguys talking about stuff, after I gone to bed. They said that they were gonna take me some place, and hurt me, so I would tell them.

So, I runned. I just opened the window, and climbed down onto the garage roof and I runned. I found a really cool buncha other kids around, and they helped me to survive and stuff. They taught me how to get food and to find places to eat and stuff.

A bunch of wiseguys have been looking for me, and some of these guys I'm with say that it gets too cold to stay in New York in winter time. They say that lots of kids on the streets die, or get picked up by bad people, or just disappear. So, we're gonna go to Florida, where it's warm. They also say that lots of kids who've seen the Blue Lady go there, too.

We're on a train right now, while I'm writing this.

I love you, Ben. I'll keep sending my letters to this address, okay?

Jacob