Angels - Thief

 

Once again, I managed to steal a wallet. I learned to do it silently, so that the person being robbed couldn't even feel my movements. It slowly became a habit, practically routine. Besides, even if someone had grabbed my hand, I could have managed to wriggle free and hide in the crowd. The thing about amusement parks was that any thieving tricks were useless. Here, the art of pickpocketing was largely irrelevant. People handed over their wallets without even realizing it. Putting it in your back pocket isn't very smart. One quick move and you're out of money. When a child calls out, "Daddy, look how many wonders there are here," you'll reach into your pants and find, at most, a wet stain left by my sweaty hand. But I have no qualms. As the saying goes, "everyone has to make a living." I live off you. Like a tax office.

I love days like this. Hot, even muggy Sundays. Americans flock to amusement parks, thinking they'll find shade and a place to rest under the carousel's canopy. My hands, covered in pink cotton candy and usually kept away from my body, made my job easier. Although I would have robbed anyone, anywhere on earth. I learned the art of thievery from my father. What he taught me was the sole reason I respect him. Damn, it's terrible. Feeding on other people's misfortunes. But that was the system. Ironically, I couldn't even define it properly. That's also my father's fault. I was looking around for the next, as I say, customer when I saw this girl. She was maybe eight years old, wearing pink patent leather shoes and a short denim dress. I'm not a pedophile, but I felt like I would do anything for this child. Maybe it was because of my father, who pulled her by the hand so that she sometimes tripped over her own feet. My childhood comes back and slaps me in the face with images from the past. It's stupid that the only thing I remember from my childhood is humiliation. There were definitely so many wonderful things happening.

I cleaned three more pockets that day. It was almost five. I usually finished my "work" at this time, but today something tempted me to stay longer. A moment later, looking back, I saw a man holding a gun. I instinctively lay on the ground.

"Get on the fucking ground, everyone!" he shouted, grabbing a girl standing nearby. It was a girl in a denim dress.

A woman was screaming in terror. I heard someone calming her down. Fear was etched in the man's eyes. He must have been truly desperate to pull out a gun in such a crowded place. He was shouting something to a child who started crying. What did he expect? She would stay quiet and help him with the crime.

"Drop your weapon, you're under arrest!" came the terrified voice of a young policeman. He seemed terrified, unable to think of anything more appropriate. Everyone's gaze turned to the source of the sound. The man with the gun decisively turned to the officer and aimed it squarely in the chest. Without hesitation, he pulled the trigger. The boy, struck by the gunshot, fell to the ground, spraying blood on the people around him. A scream like I'd never heard before erupted. Everyone still standing immediately dropped to the ground. Someone was crying, someone was cursing, someone was praying. I lay there, unable to look away from the girl. Something was stopping me. I knew that if I didn't do something, something very bad could happen. Something in my head told me to get up and run, flee, leave everyone behind and think only of myself. On the other hand, I wanted to help this child, to finally do something useful. I jumped up while the man was still facing the direction he had fired. I lunged at him, jerking the revolver upward. Another shot rang out. The girl broke free and jumped back. We both fell, covered in mud. Damn, he was still holding the gun. We struggled. I saw people jump away from us. Unbeknownst to them, they were paying me back for my thefts. I raised my fist, and then I felt it. Pain. Unimaginable pain. My insides melted into a single red mass and spilled out, mixing with the ground. I heard nothing but a rustling sound. Someone jumped at him. They managed to immobilize him. The situation seemed safe. I could die. A strange feeling. I don't know if I'm falling or flying upward. Looking back on my life, the former seems more likely. I feel dizzy, but I stand up. Just as I imagined, I'm standing over my body. The guy in the leather jacket is looking straight at me. At me, sobbing. Probably my carrier. I approach him. He doesn't look like the devil. His long blond hair and blue eyes suggest a celestial origin.

"You don't look like the devil to me," I say.

"Because I'm not," he said, throwing away his cigarette butt. "Let's go upstairs.

" "What?" I was genuinely surprised. "I think you're on to something, with all due respect, but I don't think I deserved it."

"Sometimes one act can change everything. It can save you or destroy you." He turned his back on me and slowly began walking toward the nearby mountains. "Funny, isn't it?"

"Funny."