Category Archives: Thievery

Thievery Self-Review


((Is this too weird?))

Well, let’s see. The characters are weak and ill-defined and get handed the idiot ball whenever convenient; the plot is inane, following no real structure or sense, and has numerous holes and logical gaps; the writing itself, I think, is decent, and some entertainment can be derived from little bits in it. But, in the end, I failed the execution.

Two stars.

I just don’t think the quality of the plot and characters is strong enough to warrant any more than two stars. On an entertainment level, I think the story could maybe earn three stars, but I’d feel uncomfortable giving it any more.


Thievery: Part 7


((So, this story is getting pretty bad plot-wise because I had no idea where I was going. Oops. Finishing it anyway, because the plot’s almost over.))

It had been the right decision. Lora might, if she pleaded, get away with missing a day of work (she could cite a family emergency or something–she wasn’t friendly enough with any of her coworkers for it to be an obvious lie), and things miraculously getting better for her seemed more likely than getting away with some diamonds at this point.

Anyway, Dean and Roger and Donald were idiots.

…Kind of pitiable idiots.

…Not unlikeable idiots, either.

But no, she couldn’t have regrets. If she made a clean break, forgot about the day’s events, it would all go away.

Lora would reach her work soon, and then it would all be over.

They had been questioning Dean for hours. At least, that’s what it felt like–he didn’t have a watch and there was no clock.

Still, they definitely seemed to be asking more questions than were necessary. Dean had probably gone over the day’s events two or three times already, and they kept saying he was changing his story or something–it was hard to pay attention to all their jargon.

Well, maybe not jargon. Dean just had difficulty paying attention to them in general. It wasn’t out of lack of trying, but when his brain was focused on what horrible a situation he was in–

The bank had cameras. He hadn’t stolen the diamonds. He was safe.


“This guy can’t have done it all by himself. I mean, look at him.”

The words stung Donald, especially since no efforts were made to keep him from hearing them. Then again, he was slouched in his seat, examining a coffee cup. There wasn’t much else to do.

“I can hear you, you know,” he said, attempting to sound nonchalant, but the detectives just laughed.

“Security cameras show it was him, and, well, he did forget about the cameras.”

“Doesn’t this break some sort of police-suspect confidentiality… thing?” Donald said.

More laughing.

“At least we have evidence and a confession. I could do with more idiot criminals.”

Roger was sweating profusely, having been in the same room for what easily could have been hours, stuck talking to the same detective over and over again.

“You do understand that just because you didn’t steal the diamonds in the first place doesn’t mean you’re completely innocent, right?” the detective said.

“Yes, but we were really just scared! You can’t blame us for that, can you?”

“You broke the law, Mr. Saunders.”


They sat there in silence for a few moments.

“I think we’re done here, Mr. Saunders.”


Lora saw it in a newspaper she scrounged up the next day: the article didn’t mention names, but it did mention the bank robbery, and that three arrests were made. It really was over.

And already fading in her mind, at that–the specifics of the day felt slightly fuzzy, even, the voices of Roger and Dean and Donald not as clear as they were before.

It had all been rather pointless, come to think of it.

((And thus this horrible little story gets a horrible little ending. Expect a self-review sometime tomorrow or the day after.))

Thievery: Part 6


“Oh, hell.”

There was a police car outside of the apartment complex that Donald’s brother, Richard, lived in. Having noticed the car late, Lora drove past the building, then rounded the block and parked as far away from the car as possible.

“It doesn’t have to be for Richard,” Donald said.

“Really, so a cop car just happens to be right outside the apartment of a jewel thief’s brother?”


Lora groaned as a policeman emerged from the building, a disheveled-looking man in front of him. “That your brother?”

Donald nodded glumly. “Looks like we won’t be getting any help from him.”

Lora sighed and wished she could just drive off now, but the policeman was still in front of her and she couldn’t risk being seen.

“Well, what now?”

Dean leaned forward and grabbed the back of Lora’s seat. “Let’s go to Spain.”

Lora turned her head around to glare at Dean. “Actual ideas, please!”

Dean fell back, mumbling, “yes.”

The police car was driving off, now, and Lora waited a moment before easing out into the street and going in the opposite direction.

“They likely know who Donald is now, right?” Roger said after a few moments.

“Yeah, couldn’t we just tell the police what happened? About the mix-up?” Dean said.

“And lose my diamonds?” Donald turned to look at Roger and Dean. “Not bloody likely.”

“So what, we just wait for the police to magically forget about us?” Dean said.

“Maybe they will!”

“The police don’t do that!”

“And how do you know that?”

Lora stopped suddenly, swerving to the side of the road. “Will you two shut up?”

“No!” Dean and Donald cried together.

Lora let out a sound best likened to a growl. “Look, do any of you have money? We could always get a really good solicitor.”

“Lora,” Roger said. “Lora, we have diamonds.”

“Yeah, and what’re we going to do with them? Just run up to a bank and exchange them for cash?”

“Let’s leave the country!”

“Can’t we just hide out somewhere?”

“We don’t have any options, Lora!”

Lora let the three speak for a moment, then cleared her mind and said, “Dean, give me your mobile.” She reached back to receive it and he handed it to her, a questioning look on his face.

“What are you doing?” Donald asked as Lora punched in three numbers.

“Calling the police.”

What?” Dean said, the volume of his voice threatening to leave the car, but Lora ignored him and spoke into the phone instead.

“Hello, I would like to turn in a group of diamond thieves at…” Lora looked about for a road sign as the three men grappled for the phone unsuccessfully. Finding it, she said the address and snapped the phone shut.

“This was a bad idea. Good day.” With that, she left the car… then returned hastily, saying, “this is my car. You three, out!”

“Lora, what you’re doing now is a bad idea–”

“Please, Lora, there’s no need–”

“After all we’ve been through?”

Dean spoke the last words, and Lora turned to look at him. “It’s been less then a day. I really don’t care for you. Out of the car.”

Dean gave her a face like a piteous puppy, then exited the car; Roger and Donald soon followed.

As soon as they were at a clear distance, Lora pulled back into the road and drove off.

Dean wanted to say he’d had worse days, but he really couldn’t; today was probably the worst in his twenty-three years. He could run, of course, but… well, that was actually a good idea. The road was right next to a forest, after all. Then he got another idea.

“Donald, you have the diamonds, right?”


“Give ’em here.”

Donald looked too bewildered to protest and quickly handed over the pouch, which Dean grabbed before taking off into the forest.

“Hey!” both Roger and Donald cried, but Dean ignored them, pushing farther into the flora. He could hear the other two chasing after him, but he was smaller and more agile. Once he got far enough, he nestled the pouch into the ground and shoveled some leaves over it. He then turned around and headed back for the road.

“What are you doing?” Roger said when he and Donald reached Dean. Sirens were now audible somewhere in the distance.

“Hiding the diamonds. They can’t convict us without proof, right?”

“Dean, the bank has security cameras!”

Dean stopped walking and pondered this just as the sirens got almost unbearably loud; the three were now in view of the road, where multiple police cars were visible.


Thievery: Part 5


They had gotten back to the house without incident, to Lora’s relief. The four of them were now in the living room, snacking–it was past lunchtime once they had gotten back.

Lora couldn’t believe it had been just hours since Dean and Roger had broken into her car. Despite the surprisingly easy time they’d been having, those hours had been quite draining for Lora–at least mentally. She had put all her diamonds in the same pouch, and if just one thing went wrong…

“I still want my diamonds,” Donald said.

“We still want to not be wanted.” Dean plucked a couple of chips from a pack and munched on them.

“Just what do you want me to do? I can’t just break into a police station and erase your files.”

“Can’t you?” Lora said.


“Could we leave the country?” Roger said, edging forward to escape the plush seat that was in danger of swallowing him whole.

“That seems rather extreme…” Lora trailed off–she’d really rather not go off to some foreign place and have to learn a foreign language and adapt to a foreign culture and deal with foreign people. Being in prison might even be preferable. At least she’d have a guaranteed place to sleep.

A loud creak from behind Lora interrupted her brooding, and alerted her that the front door had opened–it only creaked when it was opened too forcefully, as strangers were wont to do.

“Hide!” she whisper-shouted as cheerful chatter floated into the room.

Dean leaped out of his seat and dashed for a closet; Roger followed, looking scared out of his mind; Lora headed for the kitchen and pondered stuffing herself into a cupboard, then changed course for the bathroom to hide in one of the large cabinets; where Donald hid, she didn’t know.

Just as Lora settled into the empty cabinet, she heard a loud shriek coming from the living room. She didn’t move, however, staying hidden until she heard Donald’s voice–now she knew he was involved, and she clambered out of the bathroom and to the living room as fast as she possibly could, lest Donald do something stupid.

He was standing behind the couch, looking disheveled–Lora assumed he had been on the ground shortly before, the idiot. In front of him was a woman with blonde hair towering in a bun above her head, a fluorescent pink trench coat hiding the rest of her body. Behind the woman, who Lora presumed was a realtor, was a nondescript-looking couple.

“What–who are you?!” the possible realtor said, her eyes flicking between Lora and Donald in a manner that reminded Lora of a giant flamingo.

“I–Um.” Obviously Lora was unable to think straight, but the bright colors of the possible realtor’s ensemble distracted her further.

“Name’s Donald,” Donald said, sticking out his hand towards the possible realtor. It figured that he’d be the one to have a clear mind.

She just stared at the hand incredulously. “What are you doing here?”

“Not much, at the moment–talking to you?”

Lora shuffled to the right and looked at the couple, giving them a small smile and a wave. They glared at her in unison.

“Well–right. I don’t suppose you’ll be leaving any time soon?”

Donald seemed to ponder this for a moment. Then: “No, probably not.”

The possible realtor’s eyes narrowed, but she looked more annoyed than anything. She dug into a pocket of her trench coat and pulled out a cellphone in nearly the same shade of pink as her clothing. Flipping it open, she began to dial a number.

“No!” Lora said, rushing forward. “That really won’t be necessary.”

“I really think it will!” The possible realtor quivered, her hair following suit.

Lora made a grab for the cellphone, and the woman pulled back, nearly stepping into the couple (they were still wordless). Lora sighed, then said, “Dean? Roger? Please come out.” She heard the closet door opening and saw the woman’s face turn worried. “See, you don’t look much like the fighting type, nor have you been using this time to actually use that phone…”

Lora dashed at the woman and tackled her, grabbing the cellphone.

“Now,” Lora said as she stood back up, “we’ll have to tie you up, but I’m sure someone will come for you after a bit. There’s snacks on the table, anyway–I’m sure you’ll be able to reach them.” She turned to the couple. “Do you two have any objections?”

Both shook their heads, looking frightened, and Lora smiled. “Great, then! I’ll go get some rope.”

“So how did someone so ridiculously idiotic as you end up stealing a bunch of diamonds, anyway?” Lora said once they were a good distance away from the house.

“Well, I had some help from my brother…”

Fearing she’d lose control of the vehicle, Lora pulled over and glared at Donald. “What?! Why didn’t you tell us that? We could have–never mind, never mind, where is he?”

Donald looked baffled. “I’m not sure where he’d be right at this moment, but I do have his address if that’d be helpful…”

Lora rolled her eyes. “Where?”

Thievery: Part 4


((Though it hasn’t yet been very relevant, this story takes place in faux-England (faux because I’ll undoubtedly make some mistakes as to the differences between British and American culture), but I am from America. Thus, the narration will use American terms and spellings, whereas the characters will use British terms and spellings. So, solicitor is lawyer, phone box is phone booth, etc. etc.))

As the phone on the other end rang, Lora wondered how she might describe the sound; obviously it didn’t sound like a ring, but rather… a broo? That almost sounded right. Broo. Hmm, maybe–


The voice was crackly, likely due to the poor reception of Dean’s cell phone, but definitely male–Lora could only hope it was the real thief.

“Hello,” Lora said before stopping for a moment to think. She hadn’t really figured out what she’d say….

“Um, so–” Lora heard some sort of scuffling, a brief yelp, then:

“Sorry, sorry, some bloke picked up!” This voice was different; deeper.

“Oh. Uh.” Lora decided she might as well go all out. “Did you rob a bank today?”

The voice laughed for a moment, sounding vaguely nervous. “I don’t remember meeting a woman. But yeah, yeah, that was me! Bank robber.”

The man didn’t seem particularly intelligent, but Lora ignored her uneasiness and continued on.”Oh, I’m calling on behalf of Dean and Roger, the two you gave the diamonds to?”

“You’re not a solicitor, are you?”

“No–no, I’m just a friend of theirs.”

“Oh. Well.” The line was silent for a few moments. “Will I be getting my diamonds back?”

Lora paused, peeking out from the hallway she was in at Dean and Roger, who were still in the living room. “Uh, where are you?”

“You’re not going to call the police on me, right?”

“We’re on the run, too–hard not to be when you dropped some diamonds in Dean and Roger’s laps.”

“Right. Wilkin’s street and Wilkin”s avenue intersection, at the phone box.”

“We’re on our way.”

The car was running low on gas. The thingy wasn’t wobbling right on the edge of the E, luckily, but it was getting close, slowly but surely running out. They’d have to refill eventually, but if Dean and Roger were to be seen… would there even be a notice out on them?

Lora really wished she had watched more crime shows when she had had the chance.

But no matter: here was the intersection and there was the phone booth, a man standing inside. Lora promptly parked the car at the nearest spot and hurried out, Dean and Roger trailing behind her.

“Ah, hello!” the man said, leaving the phone booth. “You must be the lovely lady from the phone!”

“Right.” Lora tried to pour as much loathing and disdain into the one word as humanly possible; she had a feeling she failed to do so, as the man just smiled widely.

“Do you have my diamonds?”

Lora fidgeted and began to speak, but was interrupted by Roger.

“We have your diamonds, but don’t expect to just take them. We want a cut after all the trouble we’ve gone through.”

“I’ve probably lost my job!” Lora added, feeling rather feeble.

The man’s smile turned into a frown. “There aren’t a lot of diamonds to go around.”

Lora produced the bag from her pocket and opened it, peering in. “Yeah, there are!”

The man now looked extremely uncomfortable. “I stole them, you know.”

“And we took the blame!” Dean said.

“Um. One moment?” The man ducked back into the phone box, dialed a number, and returned outside. “I’ve dialed 999. Want to give me the diamonds now?”

Lora gaped at the man, hardly able to comprehend the inanity of the situation. “Dean, Roger, back in the car.” She abruptly turned around and began to return to her vehicle.

Panic swept over the man’s face, though Lora couldn’t see that. “No, wait!”

Lora turned around slowly, Dean stopping mid-step and Roger continuing to walk to the car. “Yes?”

“I–I don’t have a car with me, the police are coming, please let me ride with you?”

Lora glanced at Dean and Roger before replying. They were in a tight spot right now– and if this man had stolen the diamonds in the first place, he could be of use…. “Will you help us get out of this mess?”

The man nodded, now looking pathetic–Lora had to marvel at the range of his expressions.

“Front seat,” she said, hurrying back to the car and entering. “Move it!”

Dean, Roger, and the thief rushed to the car, quickly entering and strapping on their seat belts at Lora’s command. She could hear sirens now….

“So you just… put a phone number in a bag?” Lora said once they were safely away.

“Well, I had to have a way to get my diamonds back!” the man said.

“And if Dean and Roger had been caught…?”

“What about it?”

“The police could’ve just traced the number, couldn’t they?”

“Can they do that?” Dean said, leaning forward in his seat.

“I don’t think so,” the man said.

“Surely they know where their phone boxes are?” Lora looked at the man–he had a worried expression on his face. “They don’t just plop them down willy-nilly.”

“Never mind, though, it all worked out, right?” the man said, the worried expression turning into a cheerful one. “Say, I don’t believe we’ve introduced ourselves! I’m Donald Harolds–you are?”

Thievery: Part 3


Lora rested her forehead against the glass of the freezer case in front of her, finding herself dismayed that the coolness did not rush throughout her entire body as she had expected it would. Instead, it just made her forehead feel damp; scowling, she stood back up and wiped her brow with her sleeve. As she did so, she realized she smelled; she looked to her reflection in the glass, and could just make out the image a woman who looked very disheveled. Herself–and should she really be surprised? She hadn’t showered in days, and the clothing she wore had been unwashed for far too long (and was far too stained for her preferences).

It was as she stood there, hoping nobody was around in the small grocery store she was in, that the enormity of Lora’s situation actually registered in her mind. She was on the run with a couple of accidental jewel thieves, missing work (she’d likely be fired, given her recent state), and hiding out in her own foreclosed house! It was ridiculous! She was ridiculous! Nothing had been going right for months, and now her life would surely be ruined… why hadn’t she thrown Dean and Roger out of her car?

No. She couldn’t think this way–she could work through this. She had to. Sniffing a runny nose absently, Lora looked down at the basket in her hand; nothing was in it. She hadn’t even begun shopping yet. Lora was torn between laughing, crying, and throwing away the basket in rage for a moment before she came back into herself, frowning at nothing in particular and focusing her gaze back on the freezer. Why was she in front of a freezer? Frozen food would be useless in a house with no electricity.

Lora turned around, looking at the rows of shelves and ignoring the puzzled stare of a fellow shopper. She walked down the aisle in front of her just to move, only barely registering the food around her; she couldn’t shake that feeling of despair, despite the relative clarity of her mind.

“May I help you?” came a voice from behind her.

Lora whirled around abruptly–it was just a store employee, dressed in the dark green uniform usual for this chain.

“No–thank you.” Lora spoke as calmly as she could.

“Right.” The employee stared at Lora a moment before stepping past her. “Call me if you need anything–the name’s David. Apparently we can’t afford name tags here!” He raised his voice for the last words, eliciting a loud chuckle from an unseen person.

Lora sighed to herself, grabbing a bag of chips and dropping them into her basket. Deciding she might as well do something, she continued shopping, ending up with a small assortment of snacks and vegetables. Now: how to pay? She had a meager amount of cash in her wallet, enough to buy what she had picked out, but she wanted to save that for an emergency. So it was a credit card, then; she had been careful of using it lately, but if she could sell the jewels it wouldn’t really matter.

“Find everything well?” asked the cashier when Lora set her basket on the counter; he began to scan the items.

“Yeah, yeah…” Lora grabbed a candy bar from a small rack on the counter and tossed it in the basket. The cashier quickly rung up the items and Lora paid him, anxious to get back to Dean and Roger.

“So what now?” Dean asked, nibbling on a carrot.

“I think we’ll need to be finding that man, yeah?” Lora said, taking a carrot from the open bag on the table in front of her, Dean, and Roger.

“We already went over this, Lora!” Roger said. “It’ll just cause more trouble.”

“Well… I mean, we could…” Lora popped the carrot into her mouth, munching it without thinking. “May I see the jewels?”

“Yeah, sure.” Roger looked confused, but he reached into a bulging pocket in his jacket and pulled out a small cloth bag, tossing it to Lora.

“Hmm…” The bag was a draw-string; Lora opened it, only just ignoring the faintly glittering diamonds inside and instead looking at the rim of the bag’s interior. “Well, we could try calling this number.”