Thief, I Cry | Teen Ink

Thief, I Cry

March 31, 2013
By Lets_call_me_Lily DIAMOND, Auckland, Other
Lets_call_me_Lily DIAMOND, Auckland, Other
65 articles 0 photos 6 comments

Favorite Quote:
They'll call it chance, or luck, or they'll call it Fate.
- Neil Gaiman

My covers are all crumpled up from my mad dash to the desk; I had to find a pen that worked, so my drawers are all messed up too. It’s 2:47 in the morning (I can tell from my blinking alarm clock), and it really is quite cold – the lights aren’t on, so I stubbed my toe, although I’m not quite sure what on. My fingers, never very nimble in the first place, have become like unresponding keys which have been stuffed up by honey, or some such sticky mess, and so my grip is slowly slipping from the (blue?) pen I did manage to procure. In my pj’s I don’t sit so much as huddle on my cold, hard wooden chair, legs crossed beneath me for comfort and warmth. My face is about an inch from the paper – I hope it was blank, but I’m not sure, it may be the homework that is due tomorrow afternoon – as I try to make out what I write, in the hopes that it will be legible in the morning (proper morning, 7 am ‘come on, wake up and get ready for school’ morning, not this ridiculous dark hour of what ought to be known as night). So you see, I’ve gone to quite a lot of effort, to write down this idea – I got straight out of bed, sacrificing my nice, warm blankets and dreams – and I took no longer than a moment, of that I’m definitely sure.

So I’d really, really like it, if you could give it back right NOW, because I want to write it down – I’d meant to – and I will. As soon as you return it to my noggin, where you took it from, so that it can flow through my limbs and awaken my dormant digits till it gets onto the paper, and I can read it tomorrow or the day after that if I don’t have the time, and marvel at this late-night/early-morning epiphany. It was just a sentence, a couple of words, I think. Not much, but I’m sure they were important; the spark for something good. Except that now they’ve gone, because you took what wasn’t yours. To be fair, they weren’t quite mine yet although I fully intend they be, but they were more mine than yours, so pass them over please. My sleep is waiting for me, and I long to let its arms envelop me again. But I don’t think it’s very fair, I have to let you know, that you stole my concept from my mind and don’t intend to let it go. I would challenge you to a duel for it, though I know not how to fight, but its all quite useless anyway, because I don’t know who you are.

Anonymous thief, who stole into my thoughts this night and swiped them all, I hope you are ashamed.

The author's comments:
This really happens to me

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