A Heist Story that Doesn't Even Have a Heist 2/23/17

They had it all planned out, the six of them. Endless nights were spent arguing over the best vantage points and the most efficient way to get into the bank that they were planning to rob. This heist was supposed to be their big break, so they were all prepared. Jon, Seth, and Candice were to go into the bank, scare everyone into submission, and hold off the police while the resident genius, Marcus, got the monstrous vault in the back of the bank open. Megan was positioned on the roof of the rundown apartment building across the street with a sniper rifle ready to provide cover, and Jacob had the van running with his foot positioned over the pedal. They'd run over the plan hundreds of times, so when the time came for the heist to occur, no one quite understood why every little thing went wrong.

An hour after possibly the worst heist to ever go down in history, Jon, Seth, and Candice sat sulking in police interrogation rooms. They'd been roughly interrogated about who else helped them, but the police seemed to treat them as if they were just some lowlife scum of the city (which they were not, Jon kept reminding himself). They'd been caught the moment they got to the bank. Someone had noticed something under Candice's baggy shirt, and discreetly called the police, who got there seconds after the three had pulled their guns out and started waving them around. Megan saw the police coming down the street mere seconds after she'd gotten situated on her perch across the street, and made the executive decision that her friends were not worth going to jail for attempting to kill a whole squadron of police. She calmly packed up her rifle into her duffel bag and snuck away before any shots had even been fired. Jacob didn't even know how to shoot a gun correctly. That's why he was their driver. When he saw the police cars pull up, he hunkered down in his seat and hoped that some sort of miracle would stop them from searching the black van perched by the back door of the bank. Somehow, the conspicuous van was ignored, and he made his escape without a second thought about the three he'd left behind. Marcus had the easiest job, and got away by playing dumb. He'd pretended to be just another hostage as he watched his so called protectors be dragged away in a fury. The heist had failed spectacularly, and half of their crew had been obtained by the police. The other half were all too chicken to do anything about that. A week later when Megan, Marcus, and Jacob bumped into each other on a busy street, they made the executive decision to never speak of the catastrophe again and went on their merry way.

If you lack originality, you recycle. It's what you do. 2/10/2017

There once was a boy who was mad at the world. He stormed through his life like a wildfire, stopping for nothing, caring for no one. He yelled and raged at all the crimes in the world. He cursed at the innocent lives taken and the guilty men that walk free. He shouted and he cursed and he punished the world for all its wrongdoings until his knuckles were bleeding.

Eventually, he got tired. All those bloody fights and nights spent alone caught up to him. They crushed him under their weight and left him broken and alone while the world shouted good riddance! around him. They forgot about him; they left him to wallow in his loneliness and despair until he was empty inside. All he had left was that swirling, terrifying anger.