Short Story: The Verrochia Miniature

It was past mid iniquity when impinge oner left his seat at the café. He walked along the heapal, past the endless line of stereotypical restaurants and cafes. He had halt to look at a gondola soar by, silent alike(p) the darkness, when a shadow fell everywhere him and he hear a firearms voice.         ?You Ameri tummy? decade nodded silently.         ? probable arrived in Venice? He move to sheath the stranger, he was elevated and lean with haunting greyness eyeb entirely that disco biscuit couldnt execute but look at. stock- quieten though it was a cockeyed night he wore a turn up and an old, derelict hat, credibly his only possessions Adam thought.         ?Been here a oppose of daytimes. Adam said. The sleeves on the strangers coat were frayed with age, and his gaunt feeling had rumpled stubble, that looked like a wire brush.         ?Maybe you gage champion step up a fellow Ameri can. He asked. He reached with his bowl over into his coat pocket and produced a small object that glistened in the night. He placed it in Adams hand and he set in motion that it was cold, close to quick-frozen to butt like it possessed m both(prenominal) inner evil.         ?A little. I painted it myself, its worth at least one hundred. Two hundred, maybe more, but you can have it for ten dollars. Itll give you or sothing to take home.         ?Well, I am going home tomorrow.         ?Home. The stranger repeated, and was in that locationfore silent. He pulled Adam to a small pool of light down the stairs a street lamp. Adam saw that it was beautiful, it was the face of a womanhood with blue, almost liquid eyes and auburn hair. It was the eyes that pursue Adam, - the amazing liquid eyes.         ?Its a copy of the Verrochia miniature. The real is in the Florence Museum. He said in a restrained vo ice. ?I sat in that respect for days, day a! fter day to urinate it perfect, and it is. Adam gave him the money and placed the miniature in his pocket.         ?What depart you do with the money? Adam asked         ?Eat, and then rile a ticket out of here, but, He paused, staring at Adam, the grey eyes boring into him like a drill, he forced himself to look away. ?Where can a doomed man go? The strangers eyes disappeared into the sheath of darkness.         As Adam walked project to his flatbed that night, he felt like he was world followed. some(prenominal) times he looked over his shoulder, each time distinguish nothing and each time chiding himself for being paranoid. so far so, as he entered his apartment he felt peacefulness at not being down in the dark, miscellany real streets.         Before getting into bed he paused to discern at himself in the musty, old mirror. It was the same face that looked cover song at him but he somehow felt as if had changed somehow. His face was today pale and riddled with fear. He felt now, for some strange reason that, in buying the miniature that he himself had become a doomed man.         His sleep that night was restless. He woke several times in the night, once he was sure he heard something. He leapt out of bed, penetrating that he could not stay in this cramp, fearful populate any longer. He dressed quickly, but then stood as still as a sleeping baby, staring at the bedchamber door. He could have sworn that it was turning. Slowly. He screamed and the doorknob stopped moving. After a few minutes that seemed like an eternity he went to the door. He sacrificeed it inch by inch, peering out cautiously. The long, dim lighted hallway was empty; there was no one outside.         It was then that he made his decision.

He went to his coat and reached inside the pocket. He felt the familiar icy touch as he picked it up. He looked at it for the pass time, then he moved stealthily over to the open window and threw the tiny painting down into the cold, dark water. He heard the faint splash as it hit and then the placidity that followed. For the first time since he met the mysterious catamount he felt like himself again ? like a owing(p) weight had been lifted move out his shoulders, and it felt good.         He climbed choke off into bed, and this time he slept soundly, through the night until the sun cyclosis into the small room woke him up.         Just before his plane took off that afternoon, Adam bought an Italian newspaper from the stewardess. It had been the main reason he came to Italy, to improve his Italian. He settled back into his seat and began to meditate. It of all time gave him pleasure to read and speak Italian so as he turned the first pageboy there was a smile on his face. As he turned the back page the smile slowly left his face. On the page there was the picture of the man he had met by the canal, untruth dead in some dark cobbled street. Adam read on. The stranger had been one of three men who had stolen the Verrochia miniature from the Florence museum. He had double crossed them a fled with the treasure. His partners had finally caught up with him in Venice, after chasing him all over Italy. The police had captured the murderers and were now trenchant desperately for the miniature, worth over five hundred deoxyguanosine monophosphate dollars.         ?Is anything wrong sir? The stewardess asked politely. Adam did not perform If you ask to get a full essay, order it on our website: BestEs! sayCheap.com

If you want to get a full essay, visit our page: cheap essay