It Takes a Thief
The thief moved slowly through the long stone hallway, not making a sound. He virtually clung to the grey walls, just another shadow in the dark. He paused for a moment, stretching every inch of his six foot frame, eyes and ears straining in the blackness. There it was again, the sound of sandaled feet echoing through the hall. Dropping down and touching the floor, he felt vibrations reverberating through the stone. And they were coming closer! He swore softly, and looked around quickly. Spotting a door, he hurriedly said a prayer to whatever god was willing to listen, and he stepped through it. He noted that he was in a large, empty candlelit room, but that was all he looked at for a moment. Breathing a sigh of relief, he wiped his brow and pushed back his shoulder length black hair, revealing a large, pointed ear.
"You're getting to old for this Thronn," he whispered in the silence. Two hundred years. He was two hundred years old. That was really nothing but a pinch of salt in the life of an elf, but the constant pressures of his profession was starting to wear on him. Being a thief added a lot of stress to one's life. This job especially. Usually, he came out ahead, but not this time. His mouth quirked up in a cynical grin at the though of the mere two hundred gold that he was getting for this job. Raiding the castle of Lord Paraxel was not his idea of sane, not even his idea of insanity. But, he had needed the money at the time. He shook his head angrily and looked up. A lapse like that could easily cost him.
Finally, his head clear, he scanned the room. It was bigger than he had originally thought and, he smiled, it was the very room he was looking for: the armory. Cabinets were in numerous places along the floor, and numerous weapons were hanging along the walls. Reaching into his belt pouch, he drew out a scroll that his employer had given him. He'd been told that when he was finished reading it, the weapon that glowed would be the one to take. He looked at the scroll with revulsion. He never had liked magic very much, even though he'd always had a way with it.
Suddenly, with a flick of his wrist, a dagger appeared in his right hand.
She had to get her sister out of these dreaded woods right away. Then the soft whistle of the bird came from above her head. The bird led her to find her sister; it had to lead her home now. The bird whistled even louder now. Agnes knew what she needed to do. “Follow me!” Agnes yelled to Mary. The two girls followed a narrow path when suddenly Agnes recognized they were on their way home. Agnes sighed in relief. Suddenly, Agnes heard a deafening scream come from her sister 's mouth. Mary’s tiny feet dug into the ground as a heavy man was forcefully dragged her away; it was the kidnapper. The kidnapper must have weighed close to 250 pounds. He had a jet black ski mask over his face with a black sweatshirt, pants, and shoes. His body appeared disproportionate as his legs were stubby and his torso was lengthy. Agnes’ mind was racing. She needed to save her sister, but how? Agnes looked around frantically when suddenly she saw the bird perched on a pointy, coarse, medium sized rock. Agnes heaved the rock and delivered a strong hit to the kidnapper’s head. The kidnapper glanced up at Agnes, but then his black beady eyes started to spin as he fell to the ground. Mary broke free of his grasp as he now laid on the ground unconscious. The girls made eye contact and then in a split second they began sprinting down the narrow path. The whistling bird soared above them as the girls ran close behind it. Then they came to a clearing where they saw a spacious
The narrator then led the three men all around the house. No evidence of foul play were found. Later, the narrator chatted with the three men. Furthermore, the narrator believed that he heard the old man’s heart beating beneath the floor boards where he hid him after the crime. He felt that the old man’s heart beat grew louder and louder. He asked “why would they not be gone?” He thought he sound proofed the floor well. After questioning the heart beat sound, while still trying to have a conversation with the men, he swung his chair and opened the floor board where the old man’s body laid, but then the sound grew even louder. After praising God, he finally admitted to the crime scene and the shriek that the neighbor
Where am I? he thought to himself. Looking around the room, he wondered, What happened last night? The steady breathing of the hounds caught his attention. He walked towards the window and looked out into the courtyard. Peering out, he saw the great hounds in a deep snooze. His eyes grazed across the courtyard but stopped when they came across a mess of bones. Nearby, the grey cement was stained red.
My eyes follow the jet black hands on my watch that creep more and more nigh five past six. As the big hands of the clock pass the minutes go by that guarantee relief from agony. The more that time expires, the flowers begin to wither like the hope in my heart that Hester with arriving at the cathedral due to the notice is given by the letter. The wind howls and slams into the cathedral doors giving me false hope that the women of my dreams will be walking through the door. Bending at the waist, and praying to god Hester will come to greet me I feel a breeze hit the back of my neck and reawaken from my concentration in God. As I rise from the pew, I see small women walk through the doors with a black clock and a candle whose burning wax drips down the sides, casting light that guides the way to me. Thine figure in the black cloak hands me a letter and runs away without my response.
...o scream, the pain to great to hold back any longer. The scream was mute, a silent calling into the world of pain, a mute scream of nothingness called out into a world without sound, only deft ears could hear and none were around. A gnawing thirst started, begging him to drink and drown out the parched feeling in him. He glanced up at his mirror self so high above. Why was he laying on the ceiling? What was the world upside down. Everything no longer made sense. How many days did he lay dead? Dying? Was he dead? A glace at the wall clock told him nothing, the numbers danced. With great mental effort he pushed his cold tired body up. He felt so numb, so distant and disconnected. The clock said 8 minutes had passed, 8 minutes from when he first danced with the razor. Tick TOCK Tick..ock... Nothing, forever more. He finally found OBLIVION. and more importantly, Peace.
Untouched and unhindered, he continued on a path, not yet discovered, towards the unknowing Prince Prospero. Although he had a slow pace, he made an unexplainable distance in a small amount of time. Some masqueraded man from the retreating group grew enraged and curious of this mysterious man. He ran up to the figure and placed a hand on his mask with the intent to tear it off of the ghostly man. The moment he laid his hand upon the mask, he screamed in agony and pain. Then, unable to pull his hand or the mask free, his fate was sealed. His scream withered away along with his final breath, as he turned old and crumpled onto the lustrous floor in a pile of black ash. Silence and absolute stillness filled the room before a wine glass, half full of a red drink, descended from the whitley g...
I saw her walk over to the dressing table. I watched her appear in the circular glass of the mirror looking at me now at the end of a back and forth of mathematical light. I watched her keep on looking at me with her great hot-coal eyes: looking at me while she opened the little box covered with pink mother of pearl. I saw her powder her nose. When she finished, she closed the box, stood up again, and walked over to the lamp once more, saying: "I'm afraid that someone is dreaming about this room and revealing my secrets." And over the flame she held the same long and tremulous hand that she had been warming before sitting down at the mirror. And she said: "You don't feel the cold." And I said to her: "Sometimes." And she said to me: "You must feel it now." And then I understood why I couldn't have been alone in the seat. It was the cold that had been giving me the certainty of my solitude. "Now I feel it," I said. "And it's strange because the night is quiet. Maybe the sheet fell off." She didn't answer. Again she began to move toward the mirror and I turned again in the chair, keeping my back to her.
Suddenly he was awoken by a yell, he shot up out of bed in a cold sweat, he climbed out of bed threw on his armor and walked out of the tent. He looked around and noticed that every one was on guard, “whats going on?” he asked in a timed manor.
In combinations of words and shouts, I heard an indistinct cry “Robbery! Someone robbed me.” Out of total curiosity, I followed the path to the shop that got robbed. Pieces of shattered glass were spread unequally on the floor, jewels that were supposed to be stacked properly vanished. In an instant, the black figure sprinted over me, with a large crowd of visitors chasing him. The sound of heavy steps and fierce yells were groups of elephant crossing the river. Frightened, I cried with all my strength. “Help me! Save me!” There was no reply. In an impulse, I ran to the nearest pillar for cover, on the verge of tears. Out of nowhere, the black figure caught my collar and lifted me up. I was scared to death, no words, no tears could come out. A pointed, cold thing was on my neck. “Back up, all of you!” the man wearing black said. There was a complete silence in the mall as the black man shuffled backwards, toward the exit. The crowd followed him slowly, trying to create as less motion as possible. My heart was pounding fast, it felt like an undetonated bomb that may explode at any instant. Sweats were pouring out from my body, like a huge waterfall. Still, I was motionless and did not dare to speak anything. After he got the exit, the crowd was still nervous. Muted mutterings and small gestures lingered between the people in the crowd. Out of everyone
“Djinns are very mischievous and tricky, my liege. A maiden like Reem can’t be entrusted with one”. The shaman’s words made her father nervous. She could see it in his eyes. He was worried about her, about the city, and about their legacy. The elder shaman dressed in rugged green cloth, a pointy yellow-green hat, and held an oak-tree scepter like any other wizard Reem had seen before. This particular old man was unfamiliar. Perhaps he came from a distant village after hearing the news, and perhaps that is what troubled her lord father the most. Enemies now know that his daughter possesses a dangerous weapon. A djinn that will fulfill all her desires and dreams if she manages to articulate her wishes in three separate commands,
At last I arrived, unmolested except for the rain, at the hefty decaying doors of the church. I pushed the door and it obediently opened, then I slid inside closing it surreptitiously behind me. No point in alerting others to my presence. As I turned my shoulder, my gaze was held by the magnificence of the architecture. It never fails to move me. My eyes begin by looking at the ceiling, and then they roam from side to side and finally along the walls drinking in the beauty of the stained glass windows which glowed in the candle light, finally coming to rest on the altar. I slipped into the nearest pew with the intention of saying a few prayers when I noticed him. His eyes were fixated upon me. I stared at the floor, but it was too late, because I was already aware that he wasn’t one of the priests, his clothes were all wrong and his face! It seemed lifeless. I felt so heavy. My eyes didn’t want to obey me. Neither did my legs. Too late I realised the danger! Mesmerised, I fell asleep.
Alistair awoke suddenly. He looked around. Nothing. He could have sworn that he heard something. He must have dreamt it. Alistair was just about to drift back to sleep when he heard it again. It was a slight rustling. Alistair rose from the cold mat serving as his bed. He had to discover what that was. He pulled on his dirty, patchwork cloak and rushed through the creaky door. Torbin, his master, wouldn’t even notice his absence.
If he looked deep inside himself, he might have found memories of his youth, where he first met the apple of the Tree of Knowledge. All that time ago, when he was an adolescent in a big city, and how he strayed from his friends just long enough to be forced into an alley. If he focused, he might have recalled that there had been snow on the ground, and that it had sparkled like the still illuminated, yet charred coals of the meteor that now paralyzed him. He might have seen the tuque on the offender’s bald head, or the generally unpleasant lo...
Enrique was all the time listening. Someone was trying the two doors. Keeping himself out of sight, Enrique carefully looked around the house. There was no one but a Negro walking along the sidewalk. When the dark came, the Negro was still there. Suddenly, a siren on the radio from the next house gave him a false alarm. Soon afterwards, two stones fell on the tiling floor of the porch one after the other. Enrique went downstairs to the back door.
I looked up at the black sky. I hadn't intended to be out this late. The sun had set, and the empty road ahead had no streetlights. I knew I was in for a dark journey home. I had decided that by traveling through the forest would be the quickest way home. Minutes passed, yet it seemed like hours and days. The farther I traveled into the forest, the darker it seemed to get. I was very had to even take a breath due to the stifling air. The only sound familiar to me was the quickening beat of my own heart, which felt as though it was about to come through my chest. I began to whistled to take my mind off the eerie noises I was hearing. In this kind of darkness I was in, it was hard for me to believe that I could be seeing these long finger shaped shadows that stretched out to me. I had this gut feeling as though something was following me, but I assured myself that I was the only one in the forest. At least I had hoped that I was.