Paul Potts - So close....
Easing the pick into the lock, you knew that you had it this time. It’d been a tough one to crack and you had bent 2 picks already trying to pry this open.
*click*
Edging carefully into the room, you took it in with a mere glance – a level of opulence you haven’t seen since your youth surrounds you. It fosters a niggling memory, a thought of something familiar about the room and it’s decor.
Shaking your head slightly, you pad into the corridor that leads to your next victim’s room. If it wasn’t for the fact that her window’s didn’t even open, you would be in there already. Keeping your footsteps light and walking along the carpeted centre of the room, you approached the door behind which your next prey would be asleep.
Gently, ever so gently, you pushed on the frame to check where the trap that would be triggered by your entry into the room was. Finding a slender and near invisible thread, your place a still burning cinder of ash upon it, holding the threads until it burned through. Breathing slowly, you lowered the threads to the ground and felt gratified when no dart or spike was suddenly throw at you.
Pushing into the room itself, you saw the lavish bed and embroidery and knew you had had been given incorrect information even as you heard the tramp of footsteps rushing down the corridor behind you. That hadn’t been a spike trap, but a bell.
Rushing to escape, you threw open the adjoining doors and tried to flee into the dressing room and the freedom of it’s opening windows when a guard caught up with you and dashed you to unconsciousness.
The last things you heard as your world turned black was an oddly familiar voice demanding that you be thrown into prison immediately.