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?