Monday 8 June 2015

The Escape

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Clive climbed out of the window and slowly made his way along the ledge. He hated heights and didn’t want to look down. Despite only being on the first floor, he knew just inches to his left there was still a sizeable drop to the ground, a fall that wouldn’t kill him but would snap a few bones. If Clive hated heights, he hated pain more, so he made sure each step was delicate and deliberately placed. The fact he hated pain was the reason he was here. 4 minutes before he was in bed holding Ester close to him, but then her phone had buzzed and she’d told him to get dressed and get out of the window. Daryl was at the shop on the corner and would be home in four minutes. If Daryl caught Clive even in the vicinity of his house, Daryl would guess what he’d been up to and beat seven kind of the proverbial out of him. So like he did three weeks ago, he climbed out of the window, and now was tiptoeing along the ledge and then would jump down into the back garden to escape.
Mrs Taylor was bringing the washing in looking at the sky, the washing was still a little damp but the forecasters had said rain would come and the clouds were building;  better to bring it in now and get it in the airing cupboard than waiting and having to get it in in the downpour. She looked around to see if the neighbours were doing the same thing and saw a man on the ledge of the house behind hers.
‘What is the country coming to?’ She asked herself and left the washing to go and phone the police hoping the rain wouldn’t come while she was on the phone.
Mr Edwards also saw the cat burglar trying to get into the Croft’s house but he didn’t believe in the police; he was more a vigilante type. He grabbed his nine iron and went round to Daryl’s. He found Daryl on the doorstep fumbling to find his key, a pint of milk in his hand and a briefcase between his legs.
‘Da, there’s a man trying to break in.’ Robert said.
‘What?’ Daryl replied, not as a question, but as a I don’t believe it.
The door swung open and the two men ran through to the kitchen and out the back door.
‘Oi!’ Daryl said, he hadn’t recognised Clive yet but he soon would. Clive was startled, he slipped and fell managing to grab the ledge as he did. Now his legs daggled into the garden while his fingertips stung with pain holding onto the ledge for his life. A loud clap of thunder tested his nerve further. He clung on, trying to pull himself up. He could see out of the corner of his eye a large man with a golf club lining up his knees.
‘Clive!’ Daryl said. Clive waited for a few seconds, waiting for the penny to drop. Like an arcade cascade game the pennies fell in a clatter.
‘You bastard, give me that,’ He snatched the golf club from his neighbour.
Daryl decided he was safer to try to jump down into the garden and try to make a run for it rather than dangle there link a pinata donkey.
Rain dripped on his face, he took a deep breath and let go, landing on the grass, his ankle bent and a surge of pain went up his leg.
‘What’s going on?’ Ester said from the back door, trying to look surprised.
‘Get back inside, I’ll deal with you later.’ Daryl yelled and took a purposeful step towards the prone man on his lawn.
‘You bastard, I thought you were my friend.’ Daryl said. His golf swing was good and true, he connected with Clive’s hip. Clive yelped in pain, at least his ankle wasn’t hurting anymore. 

‘Daryl stop!’ Ester screamed but Daryl was in no mood to listen to his wife.
Daryl dropped the club and grabbed his old mate. He pulled him up and started to choke him.
‘Sorry,’ Clive said while gasping for air thinking that at least his hip wasn’t hurting anymore.
“What’s going on here then?’ The two policemen had rung the doorbell but when no one answered they came through the open door. They’d had reports of a break in after all and the front door was wide open. They weren’t expecting to see a scuffle in the back garden but nothing surprised them these days.
‘Put the man down.’ The second copper said.
Daryl did the maths in his head and dropped the bastard like a rag doll. Clive collapsed on to the ground his right hip and left ankle giving way under him. He gasped in pain, Clive didn’t like pain. Thunder clamped loudly, causing everyone to jump, and one person to scream, the ensemble looked around at the source of the yell. Clive lay even more prostrate, smoke coming from his hair, but at least his ankle, hip and neck weren't hurting anymore. 

1 comment:

  1. Petra Goláňová12 June 2015 at 22:35

    I like these lines: Clive lay even more prostrate, smoke coming from his hair, but at least his ankle, hip and neck weren't hurting anymore.

    ReplyDelete