Gold-Lust

Thief Chapter 4

 

I set out to work. I walked the streets nonchalantly, looking at all the houses on my way to my big job. There was no reason to steal from these “average houses”; The reward was low, the homeowners needed those things for themselves and it just wasn’t as fun. I only steal from luxury.

 I spent the entire day walking, far past the city. Finally, I stood before the Authumbell house, an elegant oak wood 2-story mansion with sentry guards protecting the yard like Secret Service. Even the grass looked more expensive on that side of the fence. A tall gate, protected acres of land decorated with hedges, a walkway of stone, and even a marble fountain in front of the house. I spent the rest of the day walking along the entire property fence, from a safe distance, of course. Finally, after I decided the best way in, I took a nap in the woods nearby. I was too tired to do it tonight, after walking all day long.

 

 

Next night, I was all ready, and more prepared than last time. I had a large dagger at my side in case things got really messy, a whole bag of bobby pins for picking locks, a screwdriver for opening the window, and a small hammer for knocking anyone who got in my way. I waited impatiently with my fob-watch. 10:00. Should be late enough. Time to start.

There was a guard with a flashlight, waving it all over the fence. I climbed over it as quickly as I could to avoid being spotted, and jumped to the ground, laying there for a second.  I crawled to the corner of the fence. I looked around. The guards were doing their normal routine I watched yesterday to the letter. Perfect. I crept along the fence quietly, towards the house. I stopped often to watch the guards, make sure they didn’t look my way. There was a large wall of hedges adjoining the walkway to the house. I sprinted to it and rolled underneath before the guards could spot me. I sat there for a while, turning my head to watch the guards, while trying to make the minimum sound possible. I crawled slowly, taking frequent stops, to the point it became beyond tedious. Finally, I got maybe 200 feet from the house. There were guards posted on both sides of the front door, same as the last time I tried getting in here. I’m a little disappointed, I thought, I was hoping they got better when they caught me inside last time. Now’s for the fun part. I rolled out of the hedge, and ran quietly to a window on the far side, praying to God the cover of night would hide me. I stepped up to the frame of the windowsill. Grabbing the frame, I hauled myself up. Dang it. There’s no way I’m climbing to that next window from here. Pulling out my dagger, I looked for a good spot, and stabbed it into the wall as hard as I could. I hate trusting my bodyweight on a tool, especially after the jobs I experimented with downtown. I took a deep breath and grabbed the entrenched knife and pulled myself up, barely just enough to get my hands on the next window. I hauled myself up, now using the hilt of my submerged blade as a footrest.  I looked inside. Spare bedroom, nobody there. I pried open the window with my screwdriver and prudently opened it. I crawled in and looked around. I’ll have to get my knife back later. A small blanket for a child. Laura could use that. I shoved it into my bag. Is this a closet. Nope, a bathroom. Nothing else of interest here. I cracked the door and listened. Jazz music was playing, but no other noises were to be heard. I opened the door and looked around.

               The second floor was built along a slim hall, with rustic guard rails made of fine wood. There was a huge expanse below full of… Oh no.

People. Upper class patrons were talking and dancing and drinking lots of alcohol. They were having a party. People were going up and down the stairs, and effectively blocking me from every room.

WHY?! I closed the door and hid behind it, trying to figure out what to do. I opened the door one more time. I would have to blend in. I looked down. My shirt and pants looked like someone stitched it out of torn-up towels, I was covered in dirt and I didn’t know the slightest thing about being any other way. I looked around desperately. I went into the bathroom and locked myself in. I looked in the mirror. I didn’t do it that much, so it shocked me to see what my face looked like. I ran the sink and washed my face with hot water. I tried to rub the dirt off my clothes. This is never going to work. I hid my backpack in the bathtub, left the bathroom and looked out into the hallway one more time. Alright, these people are mostly drunk, I should be okay. I walked as casually as I could into the hall, keeping a distance so nobody would smell my dirty stench. I walked into the nearest room. Another bedroom. Some records lie on the floor, and there was a necklace on a dresser. I walked towards it.

“what do you think you’re doing?!”

a

I nearly jumped into the ceiling. I turned around.

“The parties this way!” she slurred, wide-eyed and giggling. She was so drunk that she couldn’t tell I wasn’t supposed to be here. I grabbed the necklace as subtly as I could and followed her to the party.

“You’re a little young to be here, aren’t you?” She mumbled

I didn’t reply, obviously.

“Don’t be shy. Come on!” She dragged me by the arm. I pulled away from her, but she was so intoxicated, she didn’t even seem to notice. It seems obvious now that the whole upper-class sophistication thing is just a myth. Some other people noticed me, too. In fact, she was beginning to make a scene out of me. Remarks like “What is he doing here?” and, “How did he get in?” floated around, with no concern that I could obviously hear their rude observations. I finally got her to let go and slipped away into the crowd, which wasn’t easy on its own. I could still make this work, I thought, I just need to find a room away from these crowds. I paced into the nearest restroom, and thought out my plan. I racked my brain for some memory of the house from my last attempt. It was a lot quieter that time, no party or alcoholics running around. I slipped through the back door, which I couldn’t do this time because they blocked it off. I went into… the attic! But how… It was a long time ago since I tried this house. I opened the door to the bathroom and walked nervously to the upstairs rooms. I tried the two bedrooms I was in, looking for a cubby to get in. Nothing. I went into the next room in the hall. Another bedroom. I looked around nervously. I didn’t find an attic, but I did find some clothes. I shut the door and wrestled them on. They were a little big, but they would do. I would still need to keep my distance.

This will never work.

I thought about how this ended last time-a brawl with a man twice as big as me, until he got his gun, and almost ended my crimes permanently.

I walked outside, trying to hide my uneasiness. I kept looking around, for some glorious area where there where there were more valuable objects than houseguests. And behold! There it was, the attic, the attic of the richest man and biggest collector of fancy junk in the entire county. I went upstairs. It was beautiful, and not just from a thief’s perspective, either. Elegant paintings hung on painted walls and frames, surrounded by sculptures of everything from the Devil to the Virgin Mary. It wasn’t just an attic; it was a museum.  There was just one problem: It was all huge. Too big to sneak back and put it in my backpack, and too big to fit in there anyhow. I buried my face in my palms in frustration. Maybe another day? I thought weakly…

I walked around, looking for something small enough to conceal but cool enough to take. What is this! A colorful arrangement of glass sculptures, somehow interlaced with jewels or gold, each done delicately and skillfully, and small enough to hold in my hand. That was strangely convenient.

Then something a little less convenient happened. I heard an all-too familiar click-click from behind me. A kid way younger than me was pointing a shotgun at me. At least it wasn’t the man I met last time; this one decided to ask questions before just up-and-killing-me.

“What are you doing here!”

Once again, I obviously did not respond. But I did come up with a plan.

“I asked you what you were doing!”

Well this is almost awkward, I thought. I grinned at that thought, because I definitely wasn’t afraid of the runt in front of me.

“What’s-What’s so funny! You came into my house and stole my things! You think that’s funny? Am I laughing! I’m gonna call the police on you! I’m gonna-Im gonna...”

I pretended to yawn. He’s the lecture type. I smirked arrogantly and pretended to completely ignore him. This only made him twice as mad.

“You’re an intruder in my house! I’ll just shoot you!!”

That sounded better. I broke one of the glass objects, as if to say “Do it.” I think he got the message, because he started to unload his rifle at me. BOOM!!! I dropped to the floor and crawled behind the stone sculptures for cover, and pulled out my trusty hammer and threw it. It wasn’t exactly the most elegant throw I’ve ever made, but it did hit him somewhere. I rushed forward as he fell forward in agony and kicked him in the teeth. I felt a little guilty for a second. Oh well. I ran out of the attic in maniacal ecstasy.

Now that the rifle went off, the crowd of drunken partygoers downstairs were in a panic, and in that panic I grabbed my bag, put the few sculptures I could keep in it, ran downstairs, joined the bustling crowd of screaming people, and even stole their record player running out as I hid myself in the mob of terrified socialites leaving the property. I blended in as best as I could in the crowds from the guards, some of which probably remembered me. I then hightailed it back to town scot-free in joy in what was probably the most satisfying run I’ve ever made. Made some money, stole some things, and even ruined a party for snobs. And I didn’t get shot! The only thing I lost was a knife, and that could be replaced. I’ll have to do that again sometime.

Author's Note

Any Reviews would be appreciated