Wednesday, September 24, 2008

Pickle in the Ashes

Pickle in the Ashes

Dust in the dead streets; then motion, a flash of gold:

Pickle, the capuchin monkey, ran through the streets gently holding the necklace between his lips. Nobody had seen him, nobody gave chase, but still he ran, out of habit, out of the joy of running. He climbed to his little hiding place and tucked the necklace inside, latest of a hoard worth a small fortune, if anyone were alive to appraise it. His master, the man who had taught him to steal, had been gone a while now. But when he got back, there would be so much candy...

1 comment:

momfox said...

This one begs to be the opening paragraph of a novel!