Hey everyone, how are you?
I’ve been working on a short story for my creative writing course, and I thought I’d share with you what I’ve written so far for the assignment that I am currently doing, it is called ‘Lines in the Streets.’ I am almost half way through the story and it has to be around a certain number of words. If the word limit was longer I would go into more detail. Here is what I’ve written so far:
Along the dark streets of the square mile, I lay in a battered urine soaked sleeping bag. Trying to sleep with one eye open, cold and hungry for a cigarette, a smoke, of anything. A dirty cap is next to my head, containing only a couple of copper coins, showing the charity of the financial district of London.
The temperature was starting to drop, and I shiver both from the cold and the shakings of an addict. My ripped jeans, now fashionable amongst those with money, pretending that they have none; are encrusted with dirt. A hoodie so soiled that the original colour is now a mystery, are the main things that I wear each day. These streets man, they use to be my streets. I would strut across to the various courts and win cases, with a baggie of a gram of coke hidden in my boxers. Now all that is a distant memory.
People were walking past, coming from a nearby pub, so I call out:
“Any change please, do you have a cigarette?” Some city boy chucked a packet of smokes at me, whist his friends started kicking my legs, chucking change; aiming for my head. The money was nothing to them, I was nothing to them, I was nothing to anyone. The city boys had chucked me a packet of twenty cigarettes, but no bloody lighter.
Gathering up the change into my cap, it had come to a couple of pounds. It may get me a cheap coffee and a lighter. It won’t get me any cocaine though. I’m still craving it even though my addiction has got to the point where one line could kill me. I do not care though, the need for a hit is too strong. I no longer cared about the risk of death. There was always the option of robbing a pharmacy, even if it meant potentially getting court; it would still be good. A bed, hot meal and a roof over my head for the night, maybe even longer. If I went to prison, then I could get all the drugs I needed there. I decided that either way the plan could not go wrong.
I scrambled together my change and limited possessions and headed down to the late-night shop. As I walked towards the shop I had an unlit cigarette in my mouth, as I asked people for a light just as they crossed the road away from me. One gentleman in a black suit and briefcase stopped and handed me his lighter. I lit and inhaled deeply into my lungs, the nicotine hitting the back of my throat was a rush. I handed the lighter back to the gentleman, moving close to him as I walked away, swiftly taking his wallet as I walked, he did not notice, and I was gone before he out his hand in his pocket to find his wallet was gone.
Entering the shop off the corner of Holborn underground station, I’d already taken the money out of the gentleman’s wallet before tossing it in the bin. The wallet had contained one hundred pounds and some change, enough for some larger, a bottle of vodka and a lighter; the Dutch courage that I needed for robbing a pharmacy.
I hope that you like it. I’ve been happy with the way that it has been going and I am looking forward to finishing it and doing a full edit. Part of my wants to carry it on after the assignment, without the limitations of the word count, and make it longer, so that the reader gets to know the character better.
This week is going to be a busy week for me as I am going to be away for a couple of days in the west country, helping my mum with some family matters. I always look forward to going that area of the UK even if it is not for the best of reasons. I will be gone until Thursday but will still be uploading daily blogs.
Thank you for reading and I hope that you have a good day,