Risk it. Break it. Set it free.
Nay, not your spirit.
There once was a burglar.
You may think circumstances made him that way.
Isn’t that how you know it? A reason to justify everything as oh- alrightyy and then sympathise with a poor soul. You’re too good not to know compassion dearie.
Nay, I won’t give you that.
There wasn’t any helplessness about him. Only charm from what crystal eyes to hazy vision couldn’t miss. The mundane wasn’t his choice. The mediocre wasn’t his taste. It wasn’t in the extreme he found his calling. So you jump off a plane and make it to fine cut grass cos hey a bruise is bad for you.
Nay, a lull wouldn’t suffice.
Real macho, yeah? Exactly what it isn’t.
The rush is when you don’t know the end, or whether you will stick around when it arrives.
You make it or you don’t. No assurances. No ‘Don’t worry’s’. That’s for momma’s boys.
He had too much finesse for that.
The juggling of keys, the lurking shadows, the dim lit concentration, the nerve racking after each failed attempt like destiny wants to push you off into a hurricane, the comeback with resilience to yet another strike and finally the click of a lock conquered.
Nay, the click.
There were many good days and then there were few better days.
The good ones cut him slack as he got away with the heist. The better ones pulled him out of oblivion to the grind of a prison wall, that switched stakes from a game of skill to a game of intellect.
Nay, playing with people’s psyche made a wholesome feast.
Came one such better day and they threw him in a dingy cell. His neighbours there couldn’t be more pleased. The rainmaker was here and it would be a matter of time before he conjured a bird from his dilapidated hat and flew away with it. Quite the apple of everyone’s eye he was.
Nay, with vital connections.
The prison wardens on the other hand found it agonising more than gratifying to get hold of him, as rest assured his escape was imminent. What wasn’t, was the fate of their job once his gimmicks had seen the blush of daylight. Tightened to a stifling knot was the security around his cell with not an instant when he was left unattended save his trip to the restroom and even then one hand remained handcuffed to the door.
Rohit carried on for the next two days with a breezy smile like he was on vacation.
Nay, the taunts of prison mates at his first failure to elope, didn’t perturb him.
The next day just after dawn, the prison warden ran to the Superintendent to inform him of Rohit’s unresponsiveness.
So this was how he planned to play his cards, eh?
The doctor on being summoned reported a critically high temperature and implored immediate professional attention at a proper hospital.
Suspecting the doctor’s views the Superintendent himself touched the prisoner’s forehead and withdrew it quickly.
Nay, the rogue had a raging temperature alright.
An ambulance was hailed, and together with a driver and constable in the front seat with a police nurse to aid him, the vehicle sped off as an anxious Superintendent looked on.
No sooner had it cruised a little over five kilometres, the prisoner sat back to relax himself against the cool railing of the vehicle. He looked at the constable from the rear-view mirror and winked at him as he smiled at the driver.
His throat felt good with all the paste he had gobbled.
'Toothpaste eaten in large amounts raises the body temperature.' So he had heard.
Nay, now he knew for sure.
Oh the nurse.
Was she his accomplice too?
Course she was.
Or maybe she wasn’t.
Well he was charming enough to make her one.
Or maybe not.
Was she? Wasn’t she?
Yes, I want to tell you.
Nay, I can’t cos......
Indiblogger and Fiat Lenia