*Magnify*
SPONSORED LINKS
Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1218113-The-luck-of-the-devil
Rated: 18+ · Other · Detective · #1218113
Leading up to his arrest... the very last few moments of a criminal before his arrest.
Friday nights were "All-in" nights, right down in the basement of this man's house, next to the garage. What happens is that they put in a certain amount of money (mainly all of their account savings), throw the dice and then get the money, if one is lucky. Usually the excitement can build up for a long time before it bursts into feverent hyperness, yells and bold gestures as the dice made its decision. One of them, a tall, old man of skinny stature, is directly invovled with the game. He took in deep breaths as he saw the dice fall to the floor, once again.

"Come on, come on, come on," he whispered as the dice made it's announcement. Eight. The winners howled in victory as they grabbed their share of the loot. The old man scowled as he picked up the rest of his dough for the night.

"I'm leaving now, boys... tonight is not my night," he said when he heard a loud thump at the door from upstairs. The FBI. His heart thudded as the loud voice thumped at the door, rather loudly.

"Open up, Mr Shane Sharter, we know you're in there!" one of the men yelled as the others quickly stopped thier game halfway, and began to pack up for the night. Meanwhile, the old man named Mr Sharter, ran outside the garage. he knew that there was a back door somewhere...

"Open up the door!" The door crashed like thunder, and the officiers, FBI officiers, swarmed the whole place as Mr Sharter ran into the forest that lay in front of him. He kept running, the bills flew out of his hands easily like water. As he ran, the FBI agents, hidden in the dark like dark spirits, chased after him as though they were out to get him.

Mr Sharter breathed hard as he continued deeper and deeper into the woods, like the path of his own subconciousness. He didn't know how he turned himself into this path as a criminal, but... the proof was in the pudding. He kept running until something heavy fell onto his body. Mr Sharter felt his body slammed towards the ground, his heart thumping louder and louder...

*&*&*

"We have him, sir."

The two FBI agents, their target secure, reported this to their superior as the other voice spoke back.

"Oh, good. You know why this has to be done, eh?" the voice asked as they nodded in unison. They knew why.

"Of course, sir."
© Copyright 2007 Renegade_Angel (renegade_angel at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
Writing.Com, its affiliates and syndicates have been granted non-exclusive rights to display this work.
Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1218113-The-luck-of-the-devil