Posted by: Hummingbird James | October 8, 2010


I wrote this for my college’s Creative Writing class.


I stood in the alleyway. The wind blew my overcoat around, like it was paper. My grip tightened on my cricket bat. Soon, that fool would be here. Soon. I paced along the alleyway. It was dark. Perfect cover for the dealings. No one would come through here normally. It was just a matter of time until he met me.

That damn fool. He wastes his money on things like golden railings for his shower and a set of diamond-encrusted silverware. Who would even want diamonds in their knife? Sure, if the blade was diamond, I’d understand. Diamond cuts like no other. But putting it in the handle, where no one’s going to care?

Rain started pattering on the wall in front of him. The width of the alleyway meant that there was no chance of me getting wet. I tilted my trilby forward a little. I spun the bat in my hand. I kicked a pebble down the path. Good lord, he’s taking forever. What on earth could he be doing? I adjust my gloves.

This is getting ridiculous. It’s been an hour since we were meant to meet up. I rest the bat on the wall behind me and tighten my tie a little. I’d spent £400 on this suit. May seem hypocritical, but I had a series of pockets put inside the jacket so I could hide my various pistols and knives. My favourite was my .500 revolver. A little unnessecary, but the look on someone’s face when they stare down the barrel of such a huge gun is priceless.

I pace down the alleyway.

I hear footsteps from behind. I cautiously turn my head. It could be just some random bloke who just happened to walk down this particular alleyway. I smell the cigar smoke. He loved those cigars. Imported straight from Switzerland. They smell terrible. I suspect he buys them just because they’re £150 a case.

“Good evening,  Alex.” I mutter.
“Good evening, Dave!” Alex bellowed, with a grin, his fat face wiggling as he spoke.
“Do you have to be so loud? We’re on a job!” I hiss.
“Don’t be such a spoilsport.”
“Look, we have to get going. Those kneecaps don’t break themselves.” I motion for him to follow. Alex bring up his crowbar and slams it into his palm. Killing people is the only place he skimps on money for.

We head out of the alleyway.


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