Okay so I know it is not a big deal for y’all but I have just done my first personal fiction writing in well over a month. I refused to call it blocked, I called it many things but not block. I went back to what I know. So people I used to know, situations I used to either be a part of or were aware of are getting an airing and possibly I am still on target for nanowrimo. Oh I so hope so, lots of prayer, bucket loads of prayer and an equal quantity of “Get over yourself Suzie, you can write, you great goolar!”

And here it is:



Brian made the most of his glass eye, he’d stole a load of
them from some ophthalmic surgeon, just because he could. He was like that,
stealing was never about what he could get for the stuff it was the excitement
of not getting caught.

There was this one time we stole a grandfather clock from
the lobby of a shoe factory. We were running along a towpath when we heard the
cops so Brian said to ditch it in the canal. We could have been caught, it was
so funny.

When we got older and the thieving got more serious, Brian
still did it for kicks. If he needed cash for stuff he went on the rob in our
local nightclub. There’d be a few empty pockets but everyone was so drunk they
never knew.

Up the valley from us was a huge warehouse, we used to recce
while drinking vast quantities of vodka. It was my dream job, like winning the
lottery or something. The pinnacle of my thieving career. Brian didn’t care
about the money, just the fun.

We were nineteen when we teamed up with Pete and Roob, we worked
out that at twenty past ten the watchman settled down to watch a video and by
eleven he was zonko. I was so jittery Brian and I sluiced some H, it took the
edge off but it was nothing like a real high. I needed like meth as well those
days to get a hint of former glory of highs.

The job was going well till we got inside and the freaking
place was empty. Pete went beserk started slapping Brian around . Brian popped
his eye which freaked Pete and Roob. They went running the losers and the old
watchman got them. We went out the way we got in, laughing all the way cos we
nearly got caught.

Brian laughed whenever he thought of that night. Next year I
got cleaned up, I don’t know how and went to college and I got myself a proper
job with a wage and everything. I sometimes would see Brian, he moved out of
his flat and lived in the park and he got older looking and then I didn’t see
him no more.

One day this girl came by and had a box for me, said it was
from Brian. I sat looking at it for a long time. I knew he was gone, proper
gone, and this was his stuff for me. I laughed when I opened it, in the middle
was the mock lizard eye and around – all the eyes he stole from the doctor. I
raised a glass of Vimto to him. 


One comment

  1. Yeah, I read it already, Suzie. Crazy good writing. Crazy. I can see it all, especially all the running. It doesn’t matter if you write about peeps you knew: like you said, one of the first rules of writing is, write what you know. Just change it to "who" you know/knew. Will this be for the novel? I know you really will start it on 1 Nov. Go, girl!Your American reader/critic/friend,~CC

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