Risen Short Story #8
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The night was perfect. The narrow crescent of the moon had disappeared a little while ago behind a blanket of clouds that had been pushed in by the sea breeze. Even the whitest and most glistening walls of houses by day in the sun were now dark. The night watchman had already gone by and would not set off again on his next rounds for quite a while.
From out of a corner lying in the shadow of night, a shadow broke away. Silently he scurried along the side of a house, and then turned into an alley. A red dot revealed a last drag on a fag, then the shady figure pulled himself upwards on a cordon, climbed onto the roof and disappeared into the nearby window of a neighbouring house.
Even breaths signalised that he did not have to fear the attention of the inhabitants. The crate with the belongings stood at the foot of the bed. People were so transparent... It would now become apparent if the combination of the lock, which he obtained from his informant, was correct. The lockpick quietly snapped in the lock. With a scratching sound, the lid sprung open.
The even sound of breathing fell silent. The thief remained motionless. (Bloody hell!( He thought to himself, holding his own breath.
However a loud snore allowed the tension to fall away from him. He slowly and carefully cleared out the chest, in search of the old, valuable amulet that his client had been out to get.
