I
made it back to feedback group Writers Connect for the first time
in nearly a year. For a warm-up exercise, we wanted to write in second
person. We used the recent Hatton Garden robbery
as a prompt. We didn't research the details- we just set the timer
going and wrote, hence my deviance from accuracy and slightly abrupt
ending.
Once
you feel the engine cut out you pick up the drill, smashing it
through the brickwork, the movement vibrating your bones and drowning
out the hammering of your pulse. You make six quick holes, then John
slams the sledgehammer through the wall. The alarm sounds. Three
minutes. You crawl through the dust and rubble and onto the carpet,
John running ahead of you to the cabinets. Another swing smashes the
glass and you throw the sack to him. You scoop up the diamonds and
dump them into the sack, and it reminds you of your stint in the post room. Similar, yet not so.
Michael
shouts from the truck. “Two minutes.”
The
sack is now full and the shelves are empty, and you make a point of
fighting your urges to scramble back to the vehicle's waiting side
door. You walk professionally, hands feeling cold, stifling panic,
placing the sack onto the floor of the truck, sparse treasure, worth
more than the warehouse truck's usual stock even when full to the
brim.
You
climb in and John yanks on the shutters, plunging you into darkness
once again, and you scramble, arms out in front, to the wall at the
back of the driver's cabinet.
The
engine coughs to life and you feel the lurch of movement, and with
your back to the wall you slump into your hoard.
Where's
your glove?
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