another creative writing asignment (had to write a story using a picture that i recieved)

The Fortune

By Tyler Ingram

I don’t know who I
am in this world. I know what you must be thinking, something like you will find out what you want to do with
your life. But that is not what I mean. For a year I have been moving from
place to place trying to leave behind who I was. I could not stand who I was,
but I think I fear most is who I might become. My story is not like that of Dr.
Jekyll and his changing into the monster known as Hyde. Nor is my story like
some outlandish Bourn story of cat and mouse. I once had a life. It was not
what many would call ideal, but then again it wasn’t too bad compared to the
standards of the homeless. I had a boyfriend, an apartment in front of the Basilica di Santa Maria del Fiore, and what I thought was
happiness.

            The happiness I had in Florence was something
that could have lasted if it were not stolen from me. I was in line to claim a
vast fortune that was left to me in a will of some man that I never knew. The
letter that was sent to me per his dying wish; it struck me as odd and I never
paid it another thought. At the time I was grateful that I was to receive a
fortune of such a size.

maria fillipo,

You may nOt know who I am, bUt please trust Me
when i tell yoU that we are cloSe. iT is not my intent to let you fall into any
haRm while within the empire’s territory. i have protected yoU for as loNg as i
can, but I AM AFRAID THAT will be no more. You are a woman with twO bags, and
yoU carry them alone. do not forget Who you are. Other wIse it wiLl happen to
you as weLl. i rememBer how much you usEd to love your mother’s blueberry pie
when you were little. now i must leave to fetch my wife a Knife, otherwise I
wiLL havE no supper tonight. take care of those whom you hate and fear for the
ones you love near the Duomo.

                                                                           your
saint,

                                                                                       antoni
marxi

            At
first I thought it was some kind of a joke. Well, that was until my apartment
exploded as I neared the building one day. Someone set a bomb to go off… I
guessed it might have been someone I knew or someone spying on me because
everyone I knew was under the assumption that I had no plans but to stay home
with my boyfriend. We had a fight early that morning and I left the apartment
through my secret passage so that I did not have to talk to anyone. I had built
the cover to it myself, and its entrance laid under my kitchen table. Since my
apartment was on the ground floor, the passage led to a tunnel once used to
escort gold to the Gold
Bridge long ago.

            At
the moment the building blew up, I realized how little the lives of others
around me mattered to who-ever wanted me dead. I quickly ran away like the
people on the sidewalk near me and headed to the nearest bank. I wanted to
withdraw everything I owned and delete my account; I wanted to leave no trace
behind once I fled. I assumed that these people would stop at nothing to kill
me.

            I
then went to the closest store and bought two bags, one red and one gray to
carry my new cloths along with color hair dye and scissors, to help change my
appearance. After which I headed to the other side of town to a pawn shop to
pick up a pistol and some rounds.

            “I’m
sorry, ma’am, but I can not give you the gun today. There is a two to three day
waiting period to check your identity,” the manager said.

            “But
I need this to protect me!” I cried hysterically, “There are men trying to kill
me!”

            “Even
if that is true, I’m not going to break the law that easily. I do not want to
go to jail again.”

            “….I
will give you twice the euro for it now.”

            “Deal.”

“Oh, and here’s
100 more if you never talk about this or me ever.”

“I’m sorry, what
gun and who are you?”

“Exactly.
Good-bye.” I said and left the pawnshop quickly. As I left rain began to fall
and so I put on one of the trench coats I bought earlier, pulling the collar up
to try and hide my face. Just then, behind me I heard a man yelling down the
street. I turned and saw that a man was running towards me. I grabbed my bags
and ran as fast as I could; running down allies and making random turns trying
to shake him from my trail. I glanced over my shoulder and then found that two
men now chasing me, looked ahead and saw that two more were trying to cut me
off. I stopped running. There was no point. I was surrounded, and there was
nothing I could do.

They stood there
for a few moments as I put down the two bags. My mind was racing, where had I
put my new pistol? Was it in one of the bags? I then remembered that it was so
small that I put it the back of my pants. I began to slowly kneel down, slowly
moving my hands behind my head. The men seemed to relax a little as they saw
that I was giving up. This is my only
chance I thought to myself. I quickly grabbed the pistol and spun on my
right knee and shot four times, hitting each man. I reholstered the pistol,
grabbed my bags and ran.

The only way to find
out who was after me and the money was to find out who sent me that letter. I
soon found a phonebook and looked up the listing for a Antoni Marxi, and found
four: one in Rome, Venice,
Assisi, and Tuscany. I wrote down the addresses on the
back of a piece of paper and I began to walk towards the edge of town. I would
now have to avoid main roads and popular spots in every town… and people.

It took me about
five years of tracking these men across Italy. It seemed that these men did
not like to stay in one spot for too long. Finding them all was for all but
naught, as it turned out that the person that wrote that letter was using a
penname. I guessed that he was trying to hint me on to find him since he used
the word “saint” in the letter. I carried on trying to leave behind all traces
of my existence, yet people kept trying to kill me. The last hitman that I
killed said “bona fortuna, bitch”
which was Latin and my new clue as to who was after me…but that couldn’t be…it
doesn’t make sense…the Vatican?
Maybe there I will be able to find an answer or an end to this madness I now
call life.