Chapter 1: TIME



Love came to him as a surprise, and changed his life. It moved him, touched him to the extent it made him wish for a new life, a life where he had a clean character, a life in which he had small worries like every average person, but no life threats, no murders, no bloodshed. His past had been dark, he never realized how awful he had been, how much time he had wasted; the chances to live a happy life, he had missed them. Al Capone thought he was made to hate, to spread hate but when love came knocking at his door, he had a whole new journey unfolding itself. He never knew love could be this beautiful; he never realized that love was the ultimate peace he had dreamt of attaining while living his life as a mob boss. Until she came, with her came true love. With true love he felt and started to see other reasons for finding life to be as beautiful as ever.

Love comes to all of us. It is everyone’s destiny. The toughest of people who think love is not for them are mistaken. Love is an emotion that each of us was born with. It is an emotion that every one of us experiences at some point in our lives. Getting to live with your love is a different topic, but we all experience it. Every one of us will find it knocking at our door. It is on us if we want to hold its hand and let it come into our lives to do the beautiful and magical things it does, to change every bit of us. Love can change, it can teach, it can heal and cure. It can fix the worst of scars, it can heal the worst of pains, it can make everything better piece by piece, and so it did in Al Capone’s life too. You may find it very late in life, maybe when it’s too late but you will find it, and you will feel how soft and feeble it will make you.

Chapter 1: TIME

It was a cold, moonless night. The sky appeared to be as lifeless as it could be; dark and low. The air so chilled, it hurt to breathe. There were no hints of any warmth left, not in the air around neither deep inside his heart. The night had nothing new for him; it was exactly as it had been for as long as he could remember. The silence in the air was of no comparison to the silence that screamed from all that belonged to him, his eyes, his bloodshot eyes, and his wrecked heart. The heart he was aware of being so darkened by the malevolence that had penetrated every drop of blood he owned.

Laying in the room of his plush suite he had a dialogue with himself after a long time, after years. “You cannot hide the heinous crimes you’ve committed, all those innocent lives you took, you cannot run away from their screams,” Al Capone’s inner voice whispered to him. “I am not ashamed of what I did, and I could not care any less about the people I’ve hurt and the lives I’ve ruined.” He whispered back to the inner voice that still lived inside of him, and once again like always shut it down to complete silence. 25 years that is the dark side of life he had been a servant to. Pain and agony were the only emotions he had made an acquaintance with; for those around and for himself. Life is not easy for an immigrant, that’s how it is generally, but like all the exceptions in his life, Capone did not let this become a hurdle in his way to success. He was a man in his mid-twenties who had done everything to rise the ranks, and he intended to do the same in the future. He believed he was brought in the world to worship himself, to serve himself, to give himself all that life could give even if it meant doing cheap and small jobs, all he wanted and aimed for was an easy buck. If you would get the chance to look at him someday, you could tell by the look of his eyes, the kind of work he was involved in. They were like a dime novel, gangster’s eyes. Ice-grey and Ice-cold, you would feel the menace they held inside of them. Al had taken the path which fascinated most and with time he had made his place in the world, he thought was best to live in. It took him years and years to get to where he was today, not only did it take time but also thousands of beliefs he taught himself about life. From his childhood being in the trance of his street gang, which was the reason to the self-murder of the child inside him to become the mob boss in the States, he was a man of his beliefs, never losing grip on his words. He was a father to those like him, people who would do the horrific things to get their hands-on money. People of his nature looked up to him and why wouldn’t they, with theattitude of a man of rules, he was a big handsome man. His dressing was one of a kind; his shirts were white with a classic long point collar and some tie space, his expensive overcoats told everyone he was the man. People feared to speak in front of him; nobody dared to raise their voice in his presence. His presence was like a strict warning, enough to make things work the way he wanted them to. He would not tolerate anything out of its order, if yelling, screaming made sure everyone worked on their appointed duties; he would make sure his workers got it every day.

Al Capone had the kind of personality that no one could be indifferent about him; everyone had the opinion for him, his work, his behavior, and these opinions did not match. It was like he coexisted into two bodies at the same time; that is how it seemed like when you listened to what different people had to say about him. It did take him years to build his reputation, but it gained him respect and honor within the circle of immigrants who were just like him.Some saw him in the light of utmost respect to the extent that they wanted to become like him; they saw him as a community leader. But most saw him as the person who had the eyes that could turn you into stone, despised him. He would sell illegal beer, whine to people who needed it; people who thought life was to be equated with a shot every time they took a breath. A hero to some, but a threat to most. Those who worked for him could see living another day, those who refused to function by his will, their life was taken away from them, without guilt, without the realization of any sin.

Al had no place for love in his life, neither the heart that is made to love and feel it had any such emotions stored inside, it was a deserted valley, cold and abandoned. One could only hear the heart pumping blood because that it had to, other than that it had nothing to do with life itself. Love could make one weak that is how he saw it; a trap he had no want and will to fall into, he detested the idea of falling victim to any such emotions. The only one thing that Al Capone was truly afraid of was, it was love and to feel anything. His deserted heart had adapted to the deserted life he had chosen for himself. It had no longing for anyone’s affection, care or attention. Love was never the answer to anything. This was one of those many beliefs he had grown himself up with; his beliefs had been his lullaby ever since he was old enough to process thoughts and communicate them to himself. He believed living life in the wait for a right time; a right path was mere foolishness; he believed in the righteousness of the wrong. Anything that could get him on his road to “success” was the best and in no way would he compromise on it. Waiting for the right way, waiting for things to come to him with destiny, was contradicting to his morals. He believed in writing his destiny from the pen of power, authority, and domination. Also, he believed that there is no one in this world who had the power to change anything about him, he loved himself, he obeyed himself, and he was sure that only he could dominate people and force them to change, but no one else had the right nor the dare to do it to him.

One would not want to mess with the mob boss; he was a figure to be looked at from far, not to be touched, to be feared. Love feared him, or maybe it had never happened, maybe he had never gotten it for himself, and so he never returned it back. He lived his life in the castle he had built for himself, the fame he had made in years, butit was nothing more than a castle and a life of silence which had the power to kill anyone other than him.

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