Tuesday, 5 November 2013

If anyone wants to continue with this pleas do so...
 

Untitled

 

By the time Jimmy the jam found the house it was getting dark. Lights were flickering on up and down the street and as he‘d hoped his patience was rewarded; the house remained in darkness. He did a further quick recky; there were no cars in the driveway and the curtains were half drawn and still. To be sure, he threw gravel at the upper windows; the last thing he wanted was to disturb some snoozing night-shift worker.  He waited; no lights came on, the curtains remained still, no twitching.

The door was open; unlocked - eureka! It was practically an invitation. Old George had been right; there were rich pickings in an area like this; though not quite posh, it had pretentions of wealth. Thank god for the careless middle-classes.

With barely a backward glance, Jimmy pushed the door open and entered. Once inside he stood stock still while his senses adjusted. His ears and eyes strained: he was tuning in on background noises; the muffled sounds of street traffic, a car door, and somewhere kids shouting . . . but nothing from the house itself. So far so good.

Gradually he discerned objects in the dim interior. It was like dozens of other hallways he’d seen: a wooden coat stand lurched in the corner, with a well-worn jacket dangling from a hanger. The jacket caught his attention; it looked oddly familiar. He must have seen a similar jacket before . . . but he couldn’t think where. There were some shoes and boots on a rack, and besides that, a little wooden table with a lamp on it – and also what looked like a large leather wallet; with notes sticking out of it!

Jimmy reacted like Pavlov’s dogs; stimulus, response. With no conscious awareness of movement or thought, Jimmy had the wallet in his hands. He was probably salivating too as he saw a wad of notes. He started to count the money but his concentration was disturbed by a dull repetitious sound somewhere in the background . . . an alarm! . . . Somewhere . . . in the house!  

Jimmy kept cool; alarms were par for the course, as old George used to say. Stay calm and make your exit. Don’t panic! It could be hours before anyone responded to the alarm – or it could be minutes!

Jimmy turned on his heels, clutching the leather wallet. It was then that he noticed the button switch on the table. Who has a switch on a table? The wallet must have been resting on it! It must have pressed the switch down until Jimmy picked it up – releasing the switch!

Now Jimmy panicked. This was not par for the course. This was bad, very bad, thought Jimmy as he rushed to the door and grabbed the metal handle.

A massive electric jolt surged through Jimmy. He convulsed, unable to release his hand and then he passed out.   

When Jimmy came back to consciousness he lay perfectly still, eyes closed, and listened. The silence was unnerving. The sounds of the street were gone. Was the room sound proof? Maybe he’d lost his hearing? No, there was something . . . very faint, a sighing sound?

“It’s no use Jimmy, I know you are awake…” The voice was oddly familiar.

“Don’t you remember me?” Jimmy opened his eyes.

“You!” recognition chilled his rapidly beating heart.

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