A SHORT NARRATIVE BY HAALAH
It was night, just like any other. But it seemed different in a way… Now, I’m about to confess, but don’t think I’m a criminal, in fact, I’m a witness.
It wasn’t like this was the first time. Every other time the master and the mistress were home, home to stop it. However, tonight was special – the master and mistress were out, at the theatre watching some play or other. So tonight, was the perfect time to strike. Or so ‘they’ thought. I know your wondering who ‘they’ are – but listen, children, it’s a cold, dark world out there. And I’m talking about thieves. Thieves. They wore black masks and they hid in the shadows, like the beasts of the night. They didn’t burst in – they strode in calmly, with their wits about them, the image of fine, young gentlemen.
The parlour maid noticed them – being squeamish, I turned away not wanting to know what ghastly deed they would bestow upon the impoverish feeble parlour maid, that unwittingly crossed their path. I suppose they put a hand over her mouth and stuffed her in the cupboard as a broom bargained for at the price of a ha’penny. I could hear her muffled cries echoing against the walls of the family manor.
I knew I wouldn’t be caught from my place of hiding.
The thieving delinquents stole the wealth of the family that caused them to thrive and prosper. And as soon as they entered were, they whisked away and swallowed by the moonlit night.
Upon the arrival of the master and mistress, the head of the police department was sent for at once, soon after the finding of the parlour maid and the fact that once again there was an attempt of thievery. I don’t know what to tell you now. They were caught, charges were pressed, and the master and mistress were thriving once again, and the scenario was soon forgotten. Forgotten by everyone but me.
Don’t ask me why I didn’t ‘fess earlier, the answer is quite simple. No one talks to me; you’d be ridiculed by the town and people would think you were balmy talking to me…
An old grandfather clock…