Liquor cabinent

A Story by Ganglion-Pro

When I was a young boy there was this painting that hanged at a slant in my step-fathers study of an angel of god and the reaper himself standing over a little boy striking up a bargain? I can’t for the life of me remember the name of the artist but for some reason or the other this is the only painting in the whole of the house that actually intrigued me. My first opinion was that death strikes a deal with the servant of god to take the boy to damn him for eternity. The angel refuses and they are caught between a dilemma neither one of them have the time to protect or take the innocent boy so the angel proposes that they make a deal; spare the boy with the influence of both angel and death to either do good or evil and let him decide his fate.

The time I broke into my farther study to steal my step-father’s liquor from his private liquor cabinet. On top is where he would have rifles and two-barrel shotguns and then the rest of the room flooded with books with that one painting called “The Pact”, they were all neatly shelved except for the ones he had recently read which were flung on top of another next to his over sized darkened mahogany desk accompanied by a mountain of cigarette bud filled ashtray. I started Tip-toeing across the room within each step I could hear the moaning of each plank, I don’t know why I bothered even Tip-toeing just habit I guess. He would keep his key underneath the base of his miniaturized nude Greek statue of Venus; the goddess of love and desire shielding her feminine parts. Mostly because of my promiscuous sibling sneaking in on many occasions and stealing a bottle or two of the finest champagne to share amongst her batch of strays she would often bring home. Although she did always seem to have a knack to talk her way out of everything. If there was one person who could convince you of anything it would be the infamous Samantha Margret Dunmore. Aka siren Sam the girl who sung an enchanting song that rendered men oblivious. She has always hated that name.

As I acquired the key to the liquor cabinet. The mission was only half done. I don’t know why I did that; I would make believe that I was a solider on a mission sent to steal back a whisky bottle that behind the label contained government secrets. I wondered if I just made up these crazy scenarios to ease my conscious as well as making the stealing a little bit easier but I settled with the fact I’m just a mad man. I truly am. During my reconnaissance to steal back the secrets I could hear light footsteps coming closer and closing in on the mission. My heart thumping out of my chest, my stomach doing triple back flips somersaults. The footsteps grew louder and heavier my body felt stiff I could barely move. The solider in me cried ABANDON MISSION Snapping me back into reality. I quickly started tip-toeing put the key back under the statue and I shuffled my scared little a*s under the mahogany desk. It was all quiet for a second until I heard the faded brass doorknob turning and cocking the door open. This was it... I was done for….