David Hanrahan

The Forest

THE FOREST PROLOGUE The night was dark and the rain was falling lightly on the street, forming small puddles in the cracks of the street. Still, through it all Mitchell could see the moon peeking out from behind the clouds, a good omen he thought. He’d known the old man going on 25 years, the last nine of which he spent as the Don’s “right hand” handling all the dirty work that Don Elliot was too busy for, and for nine years he was overworked and underappreciated. No longer. He had a plan in place, his three most trustworthy friends alongside him, tonight the Don would fall and a new one would take his place. Mitchell finished his cigarette and threw it on the ground, he could see his reflection in one of the puddles. The years had not been kind to him. He looked much older than his forty-four years. His eyes bloodshot and tired, his beard now more gray than brown, and a scar under his right eye. One of the many sacrifices he had made over the years to a man who was more than happy to exploit his hard work. He didn’t look like the type of man who could lead a group of hardened criminals. He was a stocky man who preferred to dress casually. He wore his favorite brown raincoat to go with his brown dress pants, and brown loafers. A simple outfit for a seemingly simple man, but this simple man had a plan. As he reflected on the years and thought ahead to the work he still had to do, he saw his closest ally, Vincent, crossing the street to meet him. Vincent was a tall, thin man with short, clean-cut hair. No matter the situation, Vincent always seemed to have a smile on his face, his perfect teeth shining through in every situation. At times, Mitchell found that smile comforting, and at other times, terrifying. Vincent, as usual, dressed his best. He looked sharp with his black raincoat over his perfectly tailored suit with a dark red tie.