High Stealing

This is a submission to Chuck Wendig’s Flash Fiction Challenge: Ten Random Sentences. The object was to use one of the sentences provided, write a story under 1000 words, and post it. I managed to squeeze two of the sentences in there. Enjoy.

High Stealing

There are different types of junkies, and my drug comes from doing something than taking something. The planning phase is where it starts. Lining up all the waypoints, the dominoes of how a plan should go, then letting the whole thing fall one piece at a time following the path you set. A well-made plan is only a fragment of the puzzle when it comes to getting that adrenaline rush. A glittering gem is not enough. It’s the actual doing of the deed, the actual heist in action that triggers the endorphin explosion. That’s why I do this. It’s not about money or the jewels, it’s about the rush.

I inhale, I exhale, and I repeat. I calm my nerves. I enter a trance. I slow myself down as I stare at the building across the way, the holder of my most precious treasure. I go over the process in my head. I walk through the darkness to the back of the building. I bypass the alarm. I pick the lock. I enter the building. I wait. I breathe. I move onto the next part of my mission.

If you’re lucky everything goes right, and if you’re lucky something goes wrong making the thrill even more gratifying. I can see the diamonds in my mind resting inside the safe, calling my name. I use my skills in opening the heavy door, and take them out of their designated categories, and place them in my fanny pack. Yes, I have a fanny pack. I have to pack light, but I need a place to put things. Now I leave, but I do in a manner to alert the authorities.

Miles between me and the completed job, I bring the diamonds to the man who will pay me.

“How’d it go,” he asks.

“Just fine,” I reply.

“I need to hurry,” he says. “The alarm company has already called, and the police are expecting me to be there.”

“Not my problem,” I say, the rush wearing off.

“Well, here’s your money,” said the man. “It was good doing business with you.”

“A pleasure,” I say.

“I’ll be in touch when the insurance money comes in,” says the man.

“I know. Because if you don’t, I’ll still get my cut,” I say while looking around the inside of his house.”

In my life, the best high I could ever attain was accomplished while doing something I wasn’t supposed to do. You can call it defying authority, breaking the law, or do what I do and call it a good time. Rock music approaches at high velocity. Once the job is over, the song gone, there is nothing but silence. That’s why you have to keep going, keep looking for the next score. That’s why there is no such thing as “enough.”

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