A collection of short stories and journalistic commentaries depicting my simple life
and how I fit in with the modern day universe of our times


The dark figure ran fast at the rain soaked wall leaping at the last instant, his front foot bouncing off the wall helping him reach the required height to grab the top and pull himself up and over, landing without a sound in the dark, quiet garden. The lights from the small filthy windows were failing to reach the bushes of the overgrown untended garden.

The only sound to be heard was the rain pouring from a broken gutter. The heavy rainfall acting like a blanket on the world; any sound was swallowed by the deluge. The occasional flash of lightening was the only thing bringing the garden into focus for a split second at a time.  But a split second was all that the dark clothed man needed to find his way to the double glazed back door beneath the waterfall from the rain filled guttering.

Reaching into his combat jacket he pulled out a small leather pouch containing his lock picks. The lock on the door was a good one but he still had it open in less than two minutes. With a small grunt of satisfaction he silently pushed the door open a crack as he peered into the unlit kitchen.

Replacing his leather pouch, his gloved hand emerged from his jacket with a suppressed handgun. Quietly stepping into the kitchen his weapon raised and ready, searching the room and finding no danger he closed the back door and made his way into the hallway. Dark wallpaper made the narrow hallway appear like a tunnel, and the light of a TV coming from beneath the door eight feet away was the only sign of life in the dark and gloomy house.

Putting his ear to the door he heard the soft snore of a sleeping man from within, smiling to himself he pushed open the door and stepped into the living room. The TV was throwing shadows all across the room as he swung his weapon around searching for the sleeping target.

His smile suddenly slipped from his face as he found himself staring at the fully awake and fully armed man sitting in a worn armchair, his legs crossed casually at the ankle and his right arm pointing at the intruders face. He didn’t feel the bullet smash through his left eye into his brain or hear the blood splatter on the door frame behind him, all he felt was surprise at how easily he had been fooled.

With a short sigh the second man stood up from his old armchair, reached down and picked up a large canvass bag. Placing the gun in his jacket he stepped over the fallen man.

“Fuckin amateurs”. He said as he made his way out the front door and into the heavy thunderstorm.

Walking down the road a while he approached an old grey van and quietly opening the driver’s door he threw in his bag, not worrying about the bundles of cash falling onto the seat. Climbing into the van he finally gave a sigh of relief as he closed the door and turned the key in the ignition.

The explosion actually lifted the entire vehicle ten foot into the air. The sound shattered the windows of the homes close by, the fireball lighting up the entire street. In an instant the whole street was awake with light pouring out from open curtains as the people searched for the cause of the destruction.

The burnt body of the man now hung limply from a bent and still smoking lamppost, illuminated from below by the burning shrubbery of the newly destroyed garden.

Sounds of people coming out to investigate soon filled the air as they shouted across the street to each other making sure friends and neighbours were unharmed. As the first people began to emerge from their homes a single shadow detached itself from parked cars further down the street. The man walked slowly and calmly away from the fire and carnage and disappeared around the corner of the street. Lighting a cigarette he blew the smoke into the rain.

“Fucking amateurs”.  He growled as he walked into the night.

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Its my own fault really, its all about what I see in the world, and how it all translates for me.

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