robbery - quotes and descriptions to inspire creative writing
The robbery was simple greed and malice, a form of revenge served on a platter of ice. Marco took everything, sentimental as well as valuable on the black market. It was always this way for him, love turning into hate; and in his own warped way he felt secure when it did. This was the pattern he was raised with, this was the world he knew.
The robbery had been executed exactly to plan. With luck it would be days, weeks even, before they knew what had happened. He always only took a portion of what he found and left no mess behind to tip them off that someone had been. But this time he took the entire contents of the safe, how could he not? It would set him up for life on some sweet Caribbean island. Then he made sure everything was exactly as it was when he came and rearmed the security system using the fob he's lifted from the lady of the house when he 'accidentally' bumped into her last week. Then he strolled down the street in broad daylight, wishing a neighbour 'good-day' as he went.
The carriage that had been jolting so joyfully over the firm July track suddenly ground to a halt and the hypnotic beat of the horses hooves stopped entirely. Papa stuck his head out of the window to see what the hold up was, and promptly stuck it back in again. There were bandits with guns surrounding the carriage. In seconds the door was whipped open and a leather gloved hand reached in to pull him out. After firing at his feet to show they meant business they took the money bags and even the horses that had been pulling our carriage. Then without even a backward glance they rode up the scree hill and away out of sight, whooping and hollering.
Zara didn't mind so much the stolen jewelry or the broken window; the insurance would cover them both. What she minded that the thieves seemed to have stolen her sense of home and safety. How could she relax again in these walls knowing that they had been here, pawed through her private belongings and shown them as much respect as a hamburger wrapper.
Behind Delilah is a man who hasn't shaved in a while, yet it isn't really a beard. His lobster skin is dashed in dirty grey hairs that aren't either long enough or shaped enough to be an intentional beard. He has the look of man who once had muscles, broad over the back and thick in the neck. To me he's just another old man, albeit one with some extra poundage to carry around now that those once honed limbs are mostly fat. I shouldn't be staring like this but I feel safe to look while he is half turned away. The lumberjack shirt he wears is loose, odd, he doesn't look like he could possibly have lost weight and going by the junk he's eating it can't be a priority. I begin to avert my gaze to a handsome guy that just walked in when I see it; as he stretches to pick up a top row magazine the muzzle of a gun peeks below his shirt line. My eyes pop as he glances behind himself, catching the expression that I only wear for a fraction of a second...
The robbery was almost boring for Samuel. The target was just another schmuck with lots of dough and no protection. But taking "candy from babies" was the best bet for his long term health. The bigger the pay off the more chance of getting shot and he was getting used to living it up on the coast, drinking at the most exclusive of bars.
The robbery was planned in just the same way as Amber planned her shopping trips - detailed and ambitious. They'd hit four stores in a single hour as four separate groups while a fifth set fireworks off from the roof of the courthouse. Simple. Distract and conquer.
The robbery was surgery, or at least that's the way Lavender thought of it. She extracted the diamonds without leaving a trace of evidence and the store got their money from insurance. Really, where was the harm? She tucked a Browning into her pants for extra insurance and let her top hang loose over her top.
The robbery was the most bizarre piece of theatre the street had seen in a decade. The men came dressed like ninja stoners, threatening with dollar store "guns" with the labels still on. Mr Green the storekeeper threw them a bag of candy each and told them to scram, and they did... all the way down the street in their ungainly fashion.
With stitched brown leather sacks full of sumptuous and extravagant apparel thrown over our backs, we break for the worn-down pebble pathway - socks already drenched from the chaotic heavy rain, the sudden torrent flooding the soles of our broken shoes.