*Magnify*
SPONSORED LINKS
Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1447299-Crimes
Printer Friendly Page Tell A Friend
No ratings.
by Emjay
Rated: GC · Short Story · Crime/Gangster · #1447299
Written freshman year (2006). Based on the Blood Brothers song of the same title.
The late afternoon sun cast beams of orange light across the deserted city landscape. On its outskirts stood two silhouettes. Maria and I. We breathed in the delicious aroma of destruction, savoring it. The skyscrapers, no longer standing arrogant and proud, were in ruins. A few of them had trails of smoke rising from charred embers. Occasionally a flame would spring from the embers and flicker dangerously. We took another deep breath and gazed into each others’ eyes, thinking the exact same thing: Who knew that a city could be destroyed so easily?
         “I can’t believe we actually did it.” Maria breathed softly. She stared at the burning city with the same mixture of pride and fear that I was feeling too.
         “I know.” I replied, also gazing at our masterpiece. “We’re arsonists. We’re criminals. We’re about to be filthy fucking rich.”
         Maria giggled in that girlish way of hers, and we sank into a magnificent kiss. A beautiful woman and a fortune all to ourselves. After we go acquire it, of course.
         “Let’s go.” I said, pulling away. “We still have to find the Mayor’s mansion. Obviously it’s burned to the ground, but if his safe is as fireproof as the rumors say it is…”
         “If.” Interrupted Maria, her fear showing a little bit more. “If not…?”
         “It is.” I said reassuringly. “There’s no if in the matter.”
         She said nothing and I was glad. I was partially reassuring myself as well. If the Mayor’s safe really wasn’t fireproof, then we had burnt down an entire city for nothing. We had killed a thousand people for nothing.
         We walked into the abandoned city slowly, careful not to tread on a fiery slab of wood, or walk under a beam about to fall. It was quite a sight, really. If I had a camera, I’d have taken a couple photos. Not many people get to take a stroll through the remnants of a burning city. Not many people at all. I smirked to myself, my pride taking over my fear and guilt. Ever since I was a child, I always wanted to be special and different. And powerful. And rich. Real fuckin’ rich!
         “There it is!” I exclaimed loudly, pointing straight ahead. The mansion was unrecognizable. It was once a tremendous palace made of beautifully crafted wood, many floors tall. Now it was reduced to a pile of rubble…with something metallic and shiny sticking out of it!
         “And there it is.” Stated Maria calmly, almost entranced. She was staring fixedly at the safe peeking out of the ruin, with a tiny grin that grew wider with every step we took nearer to it.
         It was a large safe, with a simple combination lock, like the ones we dealt with just a few short years ago in high school. Fuck the lock. I pulled a hammer out of my pants pocket and bashed it against the safe as hard as I could. It worked. The door creaked open and we peered inside. There was a gigantic stack of beautiful dollar bills, some fancy jewelry, and a few lovely paintings I’d never seen before, but looked to be worth a large sum of cash.
         Maria and I shared another passionate kiss, to celebrate our success and our own bravery and cunning means of striking it rich. We took all the goods from the safe and said goodbye and good riddance to what was left of the city. We were off to bigger and better things. Mansions of our own. Mansions with our own modern art, and butlers and cleaning ladies. Mansions with swimming pools filled with caviar, and brand new sports cars with diamond-laden interiors. Enough money to buy our way out of trouble with anyone who might accuse us of arson. Enough money to buy everything.
         We took one last glance at the fiery city, and drove off in an ugly Ford Escort. No more of that, once we get to Tijuana, or wherever we decide to start our lives over again. As the blaring stereo blasted a gritty guitar solo, I raised a final middle finger to the city we both had hated in childhood. A middle finger to the city and all who used to reside within it. Fuck the city. Fuck the school systems, and the fire department, and the police station, and the library, and all their fast food joints. Fuck the people who never gave half a shit about the ones around them. Hahahaha. We were on our way to a life they could never even imagine. We were so much better than them. Hahahahaha…..
© Copyright 2008 Emjay (emjay41 at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
Writing.Com, its affiliates and syndicates have been granted non-exclusive rights to display this work.
Log in to Leave Feedback
Username:
Password: <Show>
Not a Member?
Signup right now, for free!
All accounts include:
*Bullet* FREE Email @Writing.Com!
*Bullet* FREE Portfolio Services!
Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1447299-Crimes