It's old, it's clichéd, your grandmother's heard of it, but it's still fun! (Note that I've compressed all the entries into a single post to make it easier to read. Big, manly blue is me; pretty, sensitive pink is her).
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It was with a great sense of foreboding that I crept up the gated fence guarding the perimeter of the manor grounds. Anxiety, tinged with excitement, gave me a burst of adrenaline as I heaved both myself and my black, burlap sack over the obstacle, landing with a soft thud on the grass. Most of the manor house windows stood dark and unlit, although a few sporadic panes bore a soft, yellow illumination.
I crept up to the side of the house, weary of any unforeseen challenges that lay in wait for me; burglar alarms, motion sensors, even a wayward resident out on a midnight stroll (these country folk could be quite weird y’know). Pulling an old but faithful crowbar out of my sack, I proceeded to jimmy the window open, halting a few times to allow the uncharacteristic screeches to dissipate into the night.
Hoisting my body over the sill, I pulled my legs over and fell onto the cold, hard surface of the fittingly elegant rug which, from what I could see, covered the greater part of the mahogany floorboards. The room, initially pitch black, began to come into focus as my eyes slowly adjusted to the lighting.
It was precisely how I remembered it, many a passionate nights were held in this room, and others too. But this room was special, here was were the promises were made, where the commitment grew, and where all my darkest thoughts were listened eagerly by my lover. But I had been betrayed; by the very one I loved. I knew of the affair, but I spent too long in denial, I tried everything to win her back. There was not much I could do, she betrayed me, and a divorce was imminent. But there was just a little question about the valuables, So ignorantly I had signed the prenuptial agreement, so casually had I allowed her into my life, no more.
The room was dark, lit only by the silent moon outside. He knew my movements, scorning as I stole trinkets and vases, If only I had brought a bigger bag! As I reached out for the golden snow globe, a sign of my untainted adoration, a gift from a recent trip to Venezuela, from one lover to another, I heard a shuffle. The guards were out, and the sound came from upstairs, I breathed deeply and slithered towards the shadows. As I crouched underneath the stairs, the creaking steps above me paved the way for whoever was coming down them. He paused halfway, lingering on the step just above me and groaned. Then he continued down the stairway and shuffled off out of earshot.
Not taking any chances, I headed up the stairs and towards my old study. Aside from malevolence and petty theft, I was also after a book of mine that I had held a lot of sentimental value for. I spent a lot of lonely nights in that study; nights when my wife would be away...on business of course, always on business. Business at the best hotels with the finest food at the most exotic locales. It made me also sick to reminisce it.
I turned the handle to the study, but it wouldn’t budge an inch. It seemed my ex-wife had taken it upon herself to lock it at night now, something she had never done when we were together. With an exasperated sigh, I moved along down the hallway, past the rows of identical doors with their shiny brass knobs cedar frames. I halted outside my former bedroom, a place where so many memories occurred, both good and bad. I placed my hand on the doorknob and hesitantly considered my next move. I decided against the intrusion, and walked slyly towards the stairs, only to hear the faint sound of approaching footsteps. I panicked, I dashed into the nearest room and hid behind the door, holding it ajar.
The cold tiles told me it was the bathroom, I felt around for the sink, then wall, tracing my finger around blindly until finding the bathtub. I lifted my foot into the bathtub just as the door swung open. Darkness. I used the opportunity to hide behind the drawn veil that separated the bathtub from view, and prayed to the Goddess of Fortune for my safety. The shadow then swung the light switch, and all was lit. Thankful to my wife’s shyness towards manual labour, the single bulb that shone in the bathroom was dimly lit. The man then lifted up the toilet seat, and began to relieve himself. I stood waiting silently in the tub, with the painful echo of my acquaintances personal business ringing in my ears. It angered me to think not long ago this was my territory, and now my place had been usurped by this undeserving stranger. A few more agonising seconds ticked by, followed by a loud cough, a brief flush and footsteps promptly leading out of the door, blanketing the room in darkness once more. I allowed myself the luxury of waiting another 30 seconds before moving; partly to make sure that he had drifted off back to his bedchamber, but mainly because I needed to quell my heart which was beating away furiously in my chest.
Once I was sure he was gone, I clambered out of the bathtub, slowly pushed the door open and ventured back into the hallway. I’d almost forgotten that I was here to steal things, and what a better thing to steal than money? We’d kept a safe under a bed in one of the spare bedrooms (who would think to check there?), one two doors down from where I was standing now.
Smiling at the amount of money we’d stockpiled over the years, I inched along the skirting board towards the door. Approaching it was a tricky endeavour, what with my eyes constantly flickering from left to the right, ears constantly straining for any minute noise. Click. It was unlocked, just as I expected, it held a single black purse-string like cloth, underneath which should be the stockpile of cash and a gold bar. “Gold is worth a lot these days!” I thought to myself full of silent glee. I reached out for the cloth, the silky bag was heavy. No time to check what was inside I placed it delicately into my SWAG bag and tiptoed towards the window. A jump from here would be dangerous I thought, leading to imminent death, although that wouldn’t be the worst thing with the way my life is right now, but I can’t be caught with stolen goods for legal reasons, It would be better if I came out the same way I entered. So with that epiphany I slid downstairs, blending well into the shadows, and found the smashed window. Getting out was trickier than getting in, with the window so high I had to strain to get my body through. I really should have lain off the doughnuts; I cringed to myself as a sharp blade pierced my ankle. I vowed to not eat a super-sized meal at McDonalds the next I visited it, praying that decision would allow fate to help me out of this mess. Wincing with pain, I slung myself over the window and flinched as my wounded ankle struck the ground. Luckily, the cut didn’t seem to be too deep, but the glass had left a wide, 2-inch gash which stung greatly and would almost certainly leave a scar. After inspecting it, I drew a cloth from my pocket and wrapped it around my ankle as a makeshift bandage – I hoped it’d hold until I could get home.
It was as I struggled to keep the whimpering confined to the inside of my mouth that I noticed how eerily silent it was. The night had bathed me in an aura of tranquillity; pitch black and dead quiet. I felt the cool touch of calmness wash over me, and at once I felt confident and resolved. My wound would hinder me but it wouldn’t kill me, and what doesn’t kill you only makes you stronger....right?
Slinging my burlap sack over my shoulder, I limped back around the side of the house. I was on the verge of making my hasty escape when I spotted something glinting on the grass near the edge of the lawn. Tentatively, I cast my
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cool stuff, u guys have actually done well :)
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