It is expected that we don't steal. Society governs us in a way that brainwashes us to never lay a finger on something that was never of our own. People gloat about their pristine and enlightened spirits even after the beginning of the making and mending of their souls commenced due to the repress of purloin. But for the cloaked organization that conceals themselves under the moonless shadows that awaken in the darkest of nights... stealing is merely nothing but survival. Yes hindered by the world, the secluded organization that dances between every brisk silhouette is adjudged as futile detritus that sweeps through streets. People ostracize and eschew us, look down on us as feeble-minded apes, and would even send us to the execution ring. So it is adequate that we peculate what we have lost and savor the vengeance that we have longed for. We survive off of the consternation and distress of others, and take back all that we have lost. I will never look back on that day again. It will only motivate me and make my abhorrence stronger to make people perceive what I had felt. I will make sure that the puppets that get hooked on our choking strings will never get spared mercy. Yes this is the story of our attempt to get our sweet revenge.
Written in the perspective of the individual who learned
I listen to the soft hums of the wind as my vision constantly checks the thin moving lines of my modernized device. My heart diligently knocks at my chest as I hearken closely for any signs of movement. I swiftly dart my perception towards my silver watch and it reads: 4:00 AM -- before quickly returning to my frozen stance. My physiognomy manages to run a gentle smile, and I silently laugh at my condition. A teenager thieving efficient gas from senior citizens, isolated and alone, in a gas station in the middle of nowhere.
But my mind suddenly snaps back towards my situation by reflex, and there I am again staring at my next elderly target. My eyes trace the paths of my icy breath as the two lines on my incessant time reader race to strike the 4:05 AM point. Strangely, I hold back my breath until one of the lines touches the abbreviated arrows that signals the universe to let go of one single minute -- before I exhale all the warmth from my lungs.
I seem to frown at my polished compass of time because I can feel the creased folding-points of my face slowly dip into my cheeks as I fidget with the transparent but yet sophisticated mechanism. The windows to my vision project to the sky as I scan for the Northern Lights for any signs of upcoming events. What was taking them so long? I can feel the released warmth from my lungs gradually begin to dot my face as I wordlessly yell at my idiocy. They probably left me to do the real job so that when I came back they could get all the rewards. I gently smack my forehead in contrition before I'm interrupted by the mute beeping of my tracking device.
I abruptly seize my key to success, and I bring my eye up to the reader. The unremitting line seems to swiftly run from one side to the other as it calculates how much gas each vehicle accommodates. After five whole seconds the apparatus insists that the contemporary automobile conceals over half a tank of gasoline. I grin with a malevolent aura as my mind consumes the portrayal of the slick aesthetic machinery.
The car was like a convoluted argument -- structured with a defined representation and a poised sort of arrogance. This one car in particular reminded me of a marine dolphin, with it’s smooth but subtle arch and it’s rising fin that complemented the outlook of the presentation. I could spot that the possessor of this extortionate vehicle was in the next door gas station market, so this was unquestionably my chance to sweep in and borrow the liquid gold for good.
So working quickly with my hands, I briskly swipe my gadgets and place them neatly into my satchel. My legs now sprinting without hesitation towards the large RV that is conveniently positioned near the paradise of liquid gold. I serenely open the elevated door that holds my key to success, and I mildly tiptoe towards the taker of all things valuable. Discreetly I cavort over mountains of unhealthful junk food as I reach out and grasp towards my way of accomplishing my mission. Yes this wasn’t my conveyance vessel, but I had to temporarily place my machine here just because the vehicle was asking me to come over since it happened to be parked next to the gas station. Plus I had to move fast, even though decrepit and incapacitated citizens seem to be old and sedate, this was only a measure to how observant and heedful they actually were.
Now clutching onto my gas herder -- a slender tube that would grab all of the transportation fluid I desired, I gingerly paced out of the substantial car and into the open morning. Outside it was still dark and cold like I had recalled, except now the glistening stars that slept in the sky had now vanished. I persistently trudged with my taker of gas cradled over my shoulder as I blindly sauntered through the unlit pathways. It was palpably darker when I had exited the RV, so it was difficult to normally walk on the sidewalks. But as my feet hastened down steps that my senses didn’t remember collecting into their memory storages, my intellect began to go into a juncture of perturbation and apprehension. After it seemed like thousands of deteriorating steps, I began to get skeptical of where I was leading myself. But petrified with the conclusion of the moneyed car owner finding me stealing his luxury gas, I sustained my gradual plod into the gloom.
Through the shadows that I was so familiar with, my hands began to indiscriminately feel through the surroundings of which I perceived was the vehicle that I had based my plan on. As the sensation of an annular orifice slightly ringed against my lightest touch, I then tugged at my gas keeper and plugged it into the opening. A peculiar feeling in my lower stomach urged me that something was anomalous, but I sternly prompted myself that I had to complete what I had come for. So as my finger gracefully landed ever so softly on the switch of my triumph, I instantly flickered the light to my achievement.
Until there was a subdued outcry from the source of the circular gap had my sanity progressively become overcome with dubiety and incertitude. There was a leaden mourn from the vehicle, and then suddenly a burst of water that battled me backwards. I found myself drowned in a pool water with a eerie aroma, as I struggled to catch on to what had occurred. A muffled cry managed to escape the depths of my soul, as I accepted my fate. I had failed.
I awoke to dim neon lights and the blaring sounds of the sirens of a police car, as my wrists were tied together and my silver watch replaced with metal handcuffs. Apparently I had unintentionally fooled myself with the root of a sewer line rather than my ideal lavish gasoline. It was going to be a long journey I could tell because I would later be sentenced to five months of prison. But the only real memory I could recall on my attempt was the excruciating ride from the gas station to the police office. My recollection clutched against the ringing phrase that the cop had story told to me about never even thinking about stealing again. But I knew that was the past now, it was only a distant memory that taunted me at the weaknesses of my soul.
Now I was suited in an empty room in the police facility. The walls around me secreted of a dull white shade and the only source of color was imprinted in the black letters that proudly shone throughout my imprisonment. The characters bleakly illustrated the life lesson of an individual who never strived to steal anything. I happily beamed at those words and lightly shook my head. I knew these fallacious terms were only present to propagandize me into surrendering my life to death. But unlike many of the habitual human species that gave into surrender to their passions and past lives, I was different. I would survive ungrudgingly with the yearning for the success I spoke of and will live through. I stared at the blankness of the walls filled with capabilites as thoughts spun through my mind, I had five months to plan out my next plan for sweet revenge.