High Times
The crowd gathered children, adults, friends and strangers, this was just wrong, they were all waiting for my life to end. All those months ago, all that had happened, and now this…
Watching my parents deteriorate, saddened me seeing them get worse each day I wondered when my time would come. Eventually I had had enough; I had to thieve to get medicine this, was their only chance against the sweating sickness. I wasn’t yet a full shilling but I was at least in some form of health to go out on the streets and thieve.
I searched for my victim under the veil of dusk. Excitement warmed me as I approached the tavern but something told me that this wasn’t going to go to plan. I lurked outside the tavern and before I had time to think a large black figure emerged stumbling towards me. This was it. I had to strike. The blunt blade went into his stomach as he dropped to the ground. What had I done? My heart pounded. I knelt down to the ground into the puddle of red thick blood and I searched to lighten his load. Every sound made me look over my shoulder; I was desperate to make my first heist. Rummaging through the pockets, his eyes opened and I was unexpectedly pulled to the ground by my victim into the claret. I fought with my arms to loosen his grip but before I could get away I slipped into the blood and my knee came down crashing into his red bloody face, his carotid pulse stalled. His eyes rolled up and he was still.
Exhausted I leant against the wall of the alley way, breathless, I thought hard about what I had done. Images played through my mind. I was filled with guilt. Just a few streets away was…
Into the darkness I eventually made it back to ‘my side’ of the city. Half of me wanted to go back to the dreaded scene to see if he was dead of alive. But I knew there was nothing I could do, death constantly plagued me. I had become obsessed, the more I did this the more blood thirsty I became and this made me want to over and over. I wasn’t focused on the family or riches or wealth, my mind was stuck on the killing and it could not be removed.
Once again I set off to the same tavern where I committed my first crime. I couldn’t decide weather this was a risk or not but it was the best place for the best victims, (drunkards always stumbled out the tavern). My victim stood out from the rest, I blended into the shadows and gently placed my arm around them and cunningly rummaged for anything I could come across. Reaching into his breast pouch I managed to reach a golden sun dial, the thrill. This was now my hobby, my addiction. It got easier and easier but soon I got too comfortable.
And before long the parish officers had caught up with my doings. I knew my punishment and I knew the risks.
By Daisy Oakley