The Thief

My best short story, and my favorite. I even created a "cover" for it. Click the thumbnail fore full view

Silence. 

Silence was all that existed in the night.

Pure silence.

It was wonderful.

So thought the boy as he rounded the corner, the black of midnight becoming the cloak that he wove as he scampered down the streets, bent almost double, head down, darting this way and that to avoid being seen by the staring windows of the houses around him.  A year ago, he would have tripped on this cobblestone path on his night’s foraging… Stella would silently laugh before helping him back up.  But since Stella was gone now, he had to be quick-witted enough to survive on his own. 

And now, the night was his path, the moonlight his eyes as he shot quick as an arrow from a bowstring towards the grandest house, standing clustered to shabbier, duller houses, which only added to its luster.  He’d been here many times, and he knew how to get in and out quickly, getting only what he needed.  He stared up at it for just a moment; being the homeless rogue child on the streets, he always wondered at people who lived in comfort like this.  His family could have lived in a house like this… a family he had never known or could not remember.  He shook his head and vaulted over the low black fence, the gothic spikes on the top no problem for his nimble young hands.

He dropped down silently, landing on all fours like a cat, making barely a sound on the cool grass with dew that clung to the blades and touched his bare feet.  The grass really is greener over here, he thought to himself, making his way around the yard between the fence and the bushes that lined it, until he reached the servant’s door.  He looked around quickly, shaking dark hair from his green eyes, before flicking out his knife and inserting the blade in the lock.  In less than ten seconds of careful tinkering, the lock clicked and the door swung in.  The boy snapped his knife shut with a snick and tucked it carefully into the pocket of his cloak, checking to be sure it was secure and in reach in case he would need it again.  Then he turned to the hall.

He walked a few tentative steps, straining his ears to hear any stirring from the stories above, any soft footsteps, muffled by slippers, through the hall.  The house was still.  He let out the breath he had been holding and headed for the place where the food was stored, going over the mental map he had made from previous raids.  He was only there for food, he told himself, but he couldn’t resist letting his crook’s hands swipe a diamond ring and pearl necklaces from tables and counters… surely people as rich as these wouldn’t miss them!

He forced back memories that resurfaced from where he had tucked them away a year ago… he and Stella coming here… their first raid on the house… finding food… suddenly Stella gone, lost forever.  He clenched his fists, stopping until he had the emotions under control.  He didn’t want to blindly stumble on a piece of carpet, or run into one of the many display shelves where gems and paintings were shown.  He’d be caught for sure.  He turned, passed door after door, ignoring them all, before turning into the kitchens… and straight into the arms of Mr. Havens, owner of this grand house. 

The man blinked, his thick gray mustache quivering like cat’s whiskers.  His blue and white striped nightcap, matching the rest of his sleeping clothing, flopped in front of his face.  In other circumstances, it might have been funny as he raised the top of the hat from his eyes and squinted at the person in front of him, but the boy was frozen in terror, unable to move, as if hoping that Mr. Havens wouldn’t see him.  It was a worthless hope.  Mr. Havens blinked again, then bellowed.  “You, boy!  What do you think you’re doing in here?”  The boy could only shake his head quickly and take a step back.  Mr. Havens squinted his piggy eyes at the boy before bellowing, “You!  You’re that thief-child!  Lek!”

The boy, jolted back to his senses from the sound of his name, not spoken to him in over a year, reached for his concealed knife, raising it with trembling hands.  Mr. Havens, however, was already reaching for the rifle that lay against the wall, and Lek’s heart skipped a beat.  Mr. Havens raised the gun, face purple and red with rage.  “Dirty scoundrel!  You’ve been stealing from me for years now, haven’t you?”  Lek’s throat tightened, and he didn’t bother shaking his head this time.  The rifle went off, shattering a lamp behind him.  The boy nearly blacked out in his terror, but he had the sense to dive behind the fancy red couch. 

Rage flooded through him, stopping the shaking of his hands.  That was the gun that had taken Stella!  But at a second gunshot, the fear overrode the rage, and Lek sprang from the couch and made a beeline for the door.  He had dropped the knife in his haste, and covered his head with his arms as he ran closer and closer to freedom… but he wasn’t fast enough.  Mr. Haven’s hand caught the collar of his dirty jacket, choking him for a moment.  The cloth ripped, and the jewelry he had taken spilled and rolled on the ground like glittering stars.  The boy tried to run again, but Mr. Havens caught him around the chest, holding him tight.  “You’re mine, boy,” he sneered.  Lek struggled, but it was no use.  He was caught.

 

The other events passed in a blur to the boy’s eyes.  He remembered parts: Mr. Havens carting him away from that terrible gun and dark room, to what Lek called “the jailers”; standing, aching from the bruising hands of the man; hearing Havens’ angry bellows that made him dizzy and wanting to cover his ears.  Then, bewildered still, he found himself shoved into a dirty, underground cell, bars closing him in on all sides, where he trembled like a captured animal doomed to die.  He’d huddled for over an hour, in a blank state of mind.  He’d never been caught before… a close call here and there, surely.  What would they do to him?  He found out as guards walked down the rows of cells.  “Death’s Row, for traitors and thieves,” the boy heard one of them drawl in an unpleasantly bored voice.  “They’ll be cleared out tomorrow to make way for more.”

The words jolted Lek out of his numb mind.  He had to get out!  I he stayed in these pressing bars any longer… he’d lose his mind!  He sprang from the hard stone cot he was curled on and flung himself at the bars, searching the pockets of his cloak.  He pulled out a small iron pick and rattled it at the lock, his hands sweating, making loud clanking noises.  The door swung open and he leaped out, desperately searching for an exit, but a rough hand grabbed him from behind, yanked the cloak from him, and shoved him back in the cell.  He was flung on the ground, dazed, as the bars closed behind him again.  “Idiot!” the boy heard the bored, drawling guard say to his companion.  “You didn’t check his pockets?”  The two guards kept bickering as they rounded the corner.  Lek, exhausted and broken-spirited, curled up on the hard cot.  What kind of town has a death sentence for children? He asked himself bitterly.  What kind of a town is this? was his last thought before he let his tired mind drift off to sleep.

 

It wasn’t a voice that awoke him.  It wasn’t the sunlight, either, or a bad dream.  What woke him was the feeling of a presence in the cell with him… like another person was there.  He flung himself over, sitting up and crouching against the wall, looking again like a cornered beast waiting for doom.  When he saw who it was, his eyes widened, and he rubbed them, wondering if he was still dreaming.

Standing there, with both hands clutching the bars of the cell, peering in at him with empty eyes, was someone he knew well.  Lek froze for a moment, his heart beating fast.  “St-Stella?” he asked weakly after a moment.  “Y-y-you’re dead.”  He had watched her die… he had felt her grow cold beside him.  Yet here she was.

Memories of Stella flooded his vision.  Lek’s first time stealing bread, when he had turned and tripped over his own feet, Stella’s alarm and her quick-thinking as she spirited both away from the angry shopkeeper.  Stella laughing about it afterwards, calling him clumsy.  Stella’s voice that cut through both fear and thunder when they were crouched under an overturned boat, the only shelter they had been able to find from the storm.  Stella pretending to crown him the master of all thieves, even though she was two years older.  Stella’s innocent smile as she hid a change purse behind her back, and Lek collapsing into giggles at the red-faced, irate, and confused victim of Stella’s nimble hands.  Stella had always been in his life until a year ago, when she was suddenly gone from the world, leaving Lek to fend for himself.

The one word to describe the girl was… gray.  She was wearing a white-gray gown, like a rich lady’s nightgown.  Her face was pale, and when he peered carefully at her, he realized he could see the wall behind her.  Ghost!  The word sprang to his mind, and he touched his eyelids and the hollow of his throat in the sign that warded off evil.  Stella’s cold gray eyes brimmed with sadness, and the boy froze, slowly lowering his hands.  “Y-y-you’re dead…” he repeated in a whisper.  Stella’s face pressed against the bars, and her mouth opened as if to speak, but no sound came out.  She closed her mouth again, and instead, he heard an echoing sound come through the air, as if he was in a canyon filled with a thick fog.  “You’ll not follow me.”  It was Stella’s voice, but the girl looking at him hadn’t moved her lips.  She dimmed a bit, as if the effort exhausted her, then she beckoned to him with an urgent hand.

Poor Lek nearly fainted in his terror, but he reached behind him for the wall and clawed his way up into a standing position, stumbling over to the bars.  Before he reached them, Stella pressed her hand to the lock and the door swung open silently.  Lek hesitated, but the girl beckoned again and turned, took two steps, and vanished.

It wasn’t vanishing in the sense of… poof, disappearing in a cloud of smoke.  It was as if she had stepped behind an invisible stage curtain, like there was some hole in the air.  Lek stopped dead in his tracks.  Not real… not real… he chanted in his head, but he knew that it was most definitely, certainly real. 

“Come…” was Stella’s voice again, and Lek saw a shimmer, as if a mist had appeared, glowing faintly in the dark hallway.  All of his instincts told him to turn and flee in the opposite direction… flee even back into his cell and lock it tight… but he forced his unwilling legs to take one step after another, following Stella as she rounded the corner.  I’ve always trusted her, he reminded himself.  I’ve always trusted her.  I can still trust her now.  He turned after her and blinked, seeing she was nowhere to be seen.  He looked down, seeing that the tunnel had brought him to the edge of the sea-faring town, where a dock and a small wooden rowboat bobbled gently in the waves.  He looked up to see the faint pink and orange glow of the sunrise.  The boat… the boat could take him away from here!  

He walked to the dock and reached out with a hand, touching the boat, just to make sure it was real.  Satisfied, he cut the rope tying it to the dock, swung in, and took up the oars, rowing awkwardly away from the little cove, gaining speed and confidence as time passed.  He would find a place that could be a home again; he would stay away from this miserable town forever.

He turned one last time to look back, and for a moment he was sure that Stella was standing on the edge of the dock, arm stretched above her head, waving farewell.  Then he blinked and she was gone, only the shimmer of the rising sun on the dock.  She’s always taken care of me, he thought, tears welling up as raw grief rose in him; grief that he thought he had stilled months ago.  Even in death, Stella was still looking after him.  He turned forward again, seeing a distant stretch of land to the east.  He couldn’t help but laugh, surprised of the sound coming from his throat.  It had been so long that he thought he had lost the meaning of the sound.  He braced the oars and rowed steadily onward, towards the sun rising over land and water alike, while Stella’s ghost watched from the dock, one arm still raised.  As the light from the rising sun fell on her, she started to fade.  Small shimmers of light, like flakes of pure gold, rose up into the sky from the girl as she grew fainter.  With a last hollow sigh, the dock was empty but for a cut rope, fluttering in the morning breeze, as the far-off shape that was the boy turned around a point, leaving the sea as empty as it had been before.

Author's Note

I've changed this a lot since I first wrote it, and I'm still not completely satisfied. Any critique helps!

Reviews

[13.9]

I have to say, I think you have a nicely-written story, I like your storyline and your characters, and I'm pretty impressed by your ability to create an entire story in so few words. (Although I could see this as belonging to a larger story or being expanded.)

As far as critique goes, you give a lot of description, which I appreciate, but I think some of it is a bit disorienting and could do with a little rephrasing. On one hand, some of your details really do contribute well to your story, like when Lek comments that the grass is greener. Not only does it offer a visual, but it also says something about his life. On the other hand, I feel like you're giving lot of details, but they're a bit overdramatic, irrelevant, or I just can't picture them very well.

For example, where Lek runs into Mr. Havens, you say he's just entering a kitchen, but then Mr. Havens grabs a rifle lying against the wall and Lek ducks behind a fancy, red couch. Why is there a rifle lying against the kitchen wall, and why would said kitchen have a fancy, red couch? I understand the actions going on, but I can't really figure out the setting. At the same time, you describe Mr. Havens to bellow, then sneer as he speaks, his face as turning "purple and red with rage," and the jewelry to have "rolled on the ground like glittering stars," all of which I feel is almost too cartoon-like (overdramatic).

There's also a lot of backstory going on at the same time as the events here, and it's a bit... distracting, maybe? I think it's a little confusing to get a clear image of Lek's situation since there's no point where you can explain the background information without interrupting the flow of the current story. I'm still not really sure what the backstory is, actually, i.e., the family Lek came from or the world/time period he lives in.

Beyond that, I spotted a few comma (or other punctuation) errors/typos, but those are rarely a major concern.

As far as the characters go, I like the fact that you managed to create a set of solid, constant characters, and it's easy to empathize with Lek. If I had to pick on something, here, I'd say that I'm not very certain about the relationships between characters. It's fairly minor, but I'm not sure how Mr. Havens knew Lek, or at least, I'm not sure how Mr. Havens knew Lek's name. Speaking of, I'm not sure why Stella is always referred to as "Stella," but Lek is primarily called "the boy" despite clearly having a name. If the reason is that he hadn't heard it in a year, then why was he intermittently referred to as "Lek" in the narrative at all?

I realize I'm probably not explaining myself as well as I could, so if you message me, I can elaborate on/clarify any of the above. I can even do my best at a line-by-line if you like. (I have more spare time than I probably should. ^^)

Other than that, though, I particularly liked your intro; I really do think you started strong. Overall, I like the story you've created, and I can definitely see it going places. I wouldn't be adverse to see it being expanded at all, but it's also perfectly fine at its current length. I hope I'm not nitpicking too much or being offensive; I generally try not to be, and I sincerely apologize if I am. Again, I liked it as a whole. ^^ Good write.