Name: Helena Li  

Class: Advanced Writing I, XJS Coaching School

Writing style: Creative Writing

Beryl McKinney stopped once again and strained her ears for any sound that was out of place.

Yet all she heard was the dull whine of the cars rushing by on a nearby highway. She was getting too paranoid recently, always pausing, always searching frantically for the tell-tale signs that she was being followed or watched or perhaps even targeted.

After a minute or two, she started dragging herself along the street again. She hated the way she had to rely on her shopping trolley to keep her legs from collapsing. She hated the way that her once blonde hair had greyed after years of hard work and labour. She hated most of all the fact that she, like everything else that had once been pretty, had faded.

Reaching the corner, Beryl glanced up and smiled when she found herself gazing at a second-hand bookstore that was exactly like herself - old and jaded. She stretched out a wizened hand, pulled the door open and walked inside, her stride almost too confident for an old woman.

*  *  *

Silvis Kayman shut the book with a snap and slid it back onto its place on the dusty shelf, just in time to hear the front doors open and shut. He got up from his leather armchair and ambled towards the front of the shop, once again surprised that anyone would willingly set foot in his store filled with dusty second-hand books.

Kayman was usually pleased with whatever customers he could get. However, the sight that greeted him was not one he had ever wanted to see. He could feel the bile rising up at the back of his throat. "Why, Beryl McKinney, what a pleasure", he said through clenched teeth.

The old woman standing before him gave him a withering glance and spoke in a measured voice, "I will not bother with pleasantness. I'm not here to play your nanny. Where is it?" Kayman sighed, once again wishing a painful death upon the spiteful old hag. "Thinking of my death will do no good. Seventy-five million dollars, I entrusted to you. It's mine and I want it back."

Kayman knew perfectly well that he was on dangerous ground, but he couldn't help himself. "Yours? What about your 'friends'? What about their share?"

"The heist I planned was fool-proof. But they were beyond fools. They stuffed the whole operation. They don't deserve their share." The needle points of rage in Beryl's eyes were burning and it scared Kayman.

"I don't have it. I lost it", Kayman lied. But it sounded fake, even to his own ears. "Forty-two years. That's a long time. You can't expect me to have kept it the whole time." The fire in Beryl's eyes exploded outwards and suddenly, it was as if forty-two years of rage had ignited in her soul.

Kayman never saw it coming. He never saw her raise her arm, the arm that had stayed hidden under the counter. He never heard the bang. He never smelt the danger. He just felt an exploding pain in his chest, and then the sensation of falling. He fell right onto the cash register. And in a world that was suddenly bathed in red, he reached up a red hand and tapped a red key to reveal a compartment that contained a single, red book. He felt a cold hand take it from him, and then the world rushed back into his ears. He heard the bangs this time. He tried to count them. He tried to tell her to stop. Why couldn't he get his lips to work?

*  *  *

Aileen Freefield stood outside a rusty door on a dusty street. There was a sudden bang from inside and Aileen's blood ran cold. Gun. There was another bang and Aileen frowned, drawing her own weapon - a vegetable knife. Then, on second thought, she threw it into a nearby dumpster. It would be no use against a gun. Another shot echoed from within the shop. The crease between her brows deepened. That was three already. What was she doing in there? Frantically, Aileen started counting. She reached six before she heard the cold click of an empty chamber.

An empty chamber meant that she was disarmed. Good. Aileen had been following Beryl for a week already. It was for the sake of that book - the book that was worth seventy-five million dollars. She knew that Beryl would trip up one of these days and reveal the hiding spot. With that last thought, she burst inside.

To say that there was a lot of blood was an understatement. There was blood everywhere. Even on the book. "Beryl, my 'dear friend', why don't you hand that over?" said Aileen as she reached for her knife. Realising it was still outside, in a dumpster, she looked up in panic.

"Aileen, you haven't changed a bit. Always unprepared. Always jumping into things too early. I still haven't forgotten. Forty years ago, you messed up and tripped the alarm. Your blunder cost me someone I loved", Beryl spat, circling Aileen, reminding her of a tiger.

"At the time, I wasn't aware of the relationship between you and Sean."

When Beryl spoke again, her voice was hardly audible. "We were going to get married. We promised each other that as soon as we had the money, we would get married. But… that policeman who was guarding the museum that night, h-he shot him. He shot him!"

Beryl flashed a painful smile and Aileen could almost fool herself into thinking that they were still young girls and still the best of friends. Then, with a scream of rage, Beryl dropped the book and lunged at Aileen - just as the door came crashing open.

Beryl sensed someone behind her and lashed out with her foot. She could almost feel her bones creaking as the figure behind her caught her flailing limb and twisted. Hard. Two brown cowboy style boots stepped into view. "Now that we are in a position to talk, why don't you identify yourself to the police?"

Beryl sagged in defeat and pointed to the back of the store. "The book's there. Just take it and get out of my life."

"I would recognise that attitude anywhere. Beryl McKinney: world renowned thief who baffled the police and slipped past even the most advanced security system. Also known as the current owner of the 'Langeal' artefact. I assume that is what you are calling 'book'?” Aileen frowned, wondering who they were and how they knew so much.

As if he had read her mind, her captor held up a faded newspaper clipping. "1969 - The year Beryl McKinney, Aileen Freefield and Sean Disman broke into the Huntingham Museum of Sacred Art and escaped with the ancient booklet known as the 'Langeal' artefact. The alarm was tripped at 3am on 21st March and Sean Disman was shot by a policeman and later died due to loss of blood", he read out in a monotone.

A single tear slid down Beryl's wrinkled cheek and splattered onto the dusty floor as the man, whom she assumed to be an investigator, made for the door, allowing the police to swoop in and handcuff her. Then, when he reached the door, he spun around and stared her straight in the eye. "I've read your file and I know that you and Sean were close, more than close. Losing him just to satisfy your greed for riches - was it worth it?" Beryl raised her head and the answer was evident in her eyes. No.

Teacher’s comment: Helena Li is a conscientious, hardworking student whose career goal is to become a school teacher.