Be sure to read all the posts before this one!!
I woke up bright and early the next morning. I got up from my blanket covered table that I used as I bed. As I turned on my light, I squinted and fumbled for my hoodie, my dog tags hit against my bare chest. I pulled my black hoodie over my shoulders and put my phone in my pocket. A briefcase lay underneath the table, and I fetched it feeling its weight. I was rather fit for a guy who barely ate because I worked out with Kyle. He didn’t really work out as much as me, but he did occasionally. I need to because if I got mugged, I could easily put that person—uh—down, if you know what I mean.
Anyway, I put the briefcase on the table and looked what was inside. Pulling my hood over my head, I placed a knife in my pocket for good measure. It’s a necessity.I thought trying to soothe what was left of my conscience. I grasped my helmet with both my hands and put it over my hood. My leather gloves lay next to where my helmet was, and I put them on as well. I turned off the light and got my keys. I sneaked up the stairs and slipped my feet into my shoes. Marc came down the stairs, his eyes wide open.
“Uncle Dougal, why are you leaving?” Marc whispered looking at my outfit and briefcase.
“I have some business to attend to.” I muttered. “Now, if you excuse me, I don’t want to be late.”
Marc nodded understanding. I opened the door and closed it behind me. The breeze was fairly cold for September, but it was Canada. If it were in Hawaii, it would probably much warmer. Before I moved to Canada to live with Kyle Braun, I had lived in Hawaii. It was nice there, and I often thought of good old home. But that chapter of my life was well over. The “good life” was over.
I put the briefcase on the back of my motorcycle as I climbed on. My motorcycle roared as I turned it on. A neighbour, picking up his paper from his porch, shook his head as he looked at me from across the street. I pulled out of the driveway and down the street. The leaves crunched underneath the wheels as I whizzed past houses. Finally, I entered the parking lot of a nearby park. Yes, a park. It was easy to get to, and people would mind their own business. Just two random dudes having a friendly chat a picnic table.
**BEFORE READING THIS BE SURE TO READ MY POST ON 09/05/18!
My gaze fell upon the man in front of me as I peered through my underneath hood. His smooth, slightly-tanned hand ran over a rather large briefcase, that I had just slid over to him, in front of him. His black eyes looked directly at my hooded face still unknown to him. His lips tightened in either fear or disapproval, I did not know. He glanced over his shoulder then turned back to me.
“The pay?” he growled.
“How much do you think it’s worth?” I muttered back.
“I haven’t seen it.” the man said picking the latch.
“Not now. You pay first, then you can open it.” I said sternly. “You ask for the pay? Give me three hundred bucks. It’s worth it.”
“Look here, I’m not—” the man retorted.
“Three hundred dollars or it comes with me. What’s your choice?” I leaned forward.
“Two hundred.” the man bargained.
I grasped the handled, pulled the briefcase away from him and stood up.
The man scowled in defeat and threw three hundred dollars on the table. I counted the money and checked them for flaws.
“Now, can I open the briefcase?” the man glared at me.
“You may, and I promise you, there will be no regrets. Even if there were, you will never see me again.” I said pushing the briefcase in front of him again.
His hand fiddled with the latch, and finally, not taking his eyes off of me, the man opened the briefcase. He looked at what it held and closed it. His eyes were fixed on me as he grunted in approval. He locked it and got up with the briefcase in his hand. Nervously, he glanced at me, and unable to bear the dark hole in my hood where my head was supposed to be, he stumbled away and into his car.
I am thirteen-years-old and write fictional stories and post a chapter at least once a month. I also enjoy making websites.