Student Name:               Marcus Kelly - 9C

What can you tell us about this piece of work?

It took me a long time to come up with the concept of this story but once I got it, I was able to write it in one afternoon after taking inspiration from a music video I had watched. 

What is your favourite thing about English?

My favourite thing about English is learning about the different components of creative writing. 

What are you working on at the moment in English?

We recently watched a documentary called ‘Icarus’ which is about doping athletes in the Olympics.

What book are you reading at the moment?

I am reading the third instalment of ‘The Twilight Saga’ called Eclipse.

What is your favourite book and why?

My favourite book is always the Hunger Games because it connects real world situations into a disturbing fictional story that is thrilling and compelling.

What are some books that you would really like to read?

Lord of the Rings series, Harry Potter series, Pride and Prejudice.

Cigarettes

‘Don’t forget the cigarettes!’ I hear my husband boom from the living room.

‘Yep’ I say flatly, closing the front door behind me. I knew it was useless to point out he’d “quit”. I take a deep breath of the frosty, crisp autumn air and trudge across the dead lawn to the tall wooden fence, opening the squeaky gate and emerging onto the street. Cars with peeling paint jobs rumble past on the unkept bitumen, under the tunnel of red leaves formed by the trees planted on either side of the road. The sky is hidden behind a ceiling of unbroken grey clouds, from which tiny drops of rain plummet to the ground, a preview of the coming storm. A sharp, icy wind that smells like precipitation whips my auburn hair over my face and I rush to my car - a white Holden - parked on the street, climbing in quickly when it unlocks with a shrill beep. I turn the key in the ignition, listening to the engine growl into life, and flick the heat onto full blast. Then, I put on a pair of sunglasses from my handbag and pull out onto the road, heading for the grocery store. 

On my way, I pass neglected, run-down houses, spotted with ugly graffiti, the result of living in a low-income neighbourhood inhabited by delinquent teenagers. It’s the kind of place most people talk about in whispers with their eyes creased in pity, or lock their doors and windows when driving through it. 

Quickly, I go over my shopping list in my head, making sure to add cigarettes at the end, as per my husband’s request. 

Before long, I find myself pulling into the small, empty parking lot outside the grocery store. I cut the engine, noticing the unusual quietness of the day. But it’s early, and the weekend, so everyone’s probably sleeping in. Despite this fact, I take my sunglasses off and check my appearance in the rear view mirror, grimacing at the bags under my sea green eyes. In the dulled sunlight, my light orange freckles are slightly more pronounced and my skin just a few shades paler. I pat down my navy blue windcheater and black jeans before stepping out of the car into the cold air. 

The grocery store sits wedged in between two other shops, both lifeless and empty, stickered with a red “For Lease” sign on their doors. The store is made up of red bricks, with two windows stretching from ceiling to floor and nearly as wide as the shopfront itself. Through them I can see shelves of food and supplies, all just a bit too expensive for the people who live in the area to afford. The three buildings are situated on the left side of the street, which contains a few more stores and houses that have fallen into disrepair. I shiver as a bitter gust of wind hits me, and hurry to the store. 

The glass door whispers open, and a short chime plays to announce my entrance. 

‘Mornin’ Ellie,’ I recognise the voice of Luke, the young cashier, as he calls out from behind the checkout counter. It runs from wall to wall on the right, cluttered with advertisements and flyers and one checkout computer and scanner. Stands of chip packets rest in front of it. Behind him are the drawers, holding the cigarettes - but keeping them out of sight, as the law requires.

I’ll leave them until last. I decide.

‘Morning Luke,’ I reply, smiling.

‘You doin’ the weekly Junk Run?’ he smirks, running a hand through his short brown hair.

‘Nah,’ I say. ‘Steve and I are trying to cut back on all the unhealthy crap. It’s just the essentials today.’

Luke smiles and nods. ‘I’d say it’s already working. You don’t look a day over fifty!’ 

I chuckle. ‘Still a decade ‘till that day even comes, bud,’ 

He smiles in return.

The store resembles a gas station - three walls lined with glass front fridges full of energy drinks, a few isles nearly shoulder-high, stocked with candy, tools, cleaning supplies and other various products. The floor is checkered black and white tiles and the air inside is cool from all the fridges. Three rows of rectangular white lights are fixed overhead. 

I smile once more at Luke and then turn left, moving for the back wall where the milk is. My footsteps are loud against the gentle hum of the air vents and freezers. I pass by one of the store's front windows on my way and notice a black car pulling into a parking space. When I reach the fridges, I tug open the door to the one containing milk, and grab a two-litre. Then I sigh and move to the candy aisle.

Just one treat. I decide. The candy packets are hung up on hooks and I crouch down to get a better look at the bottom selection.

That’s when another chime sounds as the shop’s door opens. I hear one set of footsteps enter. Hidden by the aisle shelves, I can’t see who it is. 

Just before I reach for a packet of sour worms, a man’s ferocious shout fills the store. 

‘Give me the money!’ he bellows. I stifle a scream, freezing, my heart suddenly beating rapidly. 

‘I said give me the money!’ he shouts again. 

‘Okay, okay,’ I hear Luke whisper shakily. My mind races and blood flows to my face as I begin to panic. 

A robbery has started.

A sharp, metallic click sounds. 

An armed robbery has started.

I listen closely as Luke rustles through the register, trying to take all of the cash out. 

‘Hurry up!’ the robber roars. I draw in rough, jagged breaths as I attempt to stay calm, and drop to my hands and knees onto the freezing linoleum. This position means I can crawl quickly away from danger if I need to. I have no idea what to do. I look down to see my body shaking with fear and adrenaline. 

‘There,’ Luke cries. ‘That’s all the money,’ I can picture his terrified face as he looks at the robber, praying that he won’t get shot.

‘Put it in a bag,’ the robber orders fiercely. ‘And throw in all the cigarettes too,’

‘What type?’ Luke asks weakly. 

‘Any! Just do it!’ 

I flinch as the robber raises his voice again. Then, I crawl silently forward to the front of the aisle to see if Luke is in any real danger. I still hide behind the aisle shelf, but around the corner is the checkout, and the robber, pointing a black gun at Luke’s head. He’s wearing a red flannel shirt over black jeans and a balaclava hides his face. His black sneakers are worn and dirty.

Luke’s face is contorted in fear as he turns and reaches for the drawers behind him, pulling them open to reveal - what I can recall is - hundreds of cigarette packets. 

‘All of them!’ The robber demands. I turn back into the isle, a fresh wave of panic rolling over me.

My phone! I think, hurriedly checking my pockets for it, wincing as the robber shouts at Luke to hurry up. But then I remember I left my phone at home…

Escape. I think. How am I going to escape? The only way out is the front door -  currently blocked by the robber.

Then I do something stupid. Something “life-endangering” stupid:

I turn to look at the robber again and knock a box of chocolates off a shelf with my shoulder. It hits the ground with an audible thud. I turn back immediately. 

No! I scream internally. He’s heard me. I panic. He must’ve heard me! I freeze, trying not to make any more movement or sound. I hear the robber move towards the aisle. My heart hammers against my chest, a shiver of fear climbs up my spine. Dread fills the pit of my stomach. 

His footsteps come closer - so close I feel he’s about to round the corner, when Luke shouts:

‘All done!’ 

I hear the robber run to him. 

‘Good,’ he says. I peek around the shelf, then gasp. My eyes meet the robber’s through his thick balaclava, his gun is still pointed at Luke. 

‘Who are you!?’ He thunders, beginning to move towards me, when another gun clicks. The robber pauses and turns back to Luke, who’s holding his own gun in front of him. My eyes are wide with shock. I can’t breathe. The robber growls. I feel helpless - this could end very badly for Luke. And me. One bullet and we’re dead. 

An idea comes to me, and I realise I have to use it. Now. Terror rises in my throat like bile and adrenaline surges through me as I stand up swiftly and run for the robber. Screaming, I launch onto his back, holding my arm firmly against his throat in a chokehold. He yelps and thrashes wildly underneath me, dropping the gun to pry at my arm. I use all of my strength, trying to crush his windpipe, shrieking as he yanks my hair. I squeeze his neck tighter. He throws his back into my face, knocking my cheekbone hard. I cry out, dazed from the impact, feeling warm blood trickling down my skin before the pain kicks in. And, just as the robber finally frees my arm from his neck, a deafening bang rings through the air, and he stops struggling. In the silence that followed, my and Luke’s ragged breathing is the only noise. I look over to Luke, who is grasping his smoking gun so tightly his knuckles are white. Then the robber goes limp beneath me and I climb off his back right before he collapses to the ground, face first. Thick, red blood pools from the bullethole in his chest. 

Luke and I stare at each other, shaking uncontrollably. With trembling hands, he reaches for his cellphone and calls triple-zero, asking for the police and an ambulance. When he hangs up he says:

‘Is he dead,’ 

I nod. ‘I can tell he isn’t breathing…’ we stand there for a minute, tears welling in our eyes.

‘T-that was s-so scary,’ I whisper. Luke jumps over the counter and rushes toward me, hugging me tight.

‘You saved me,’ he croaks.

‘You saved me,’ I add, my voice breaking. 

We cry together, slumping to the floor, still in each other’s arms. Relief floods through me and I sob into his chest while Luke takes deep breaths, trying to calm himself, as we hear them. Faintly at first, but growing closer by the second, echoing through the streets.

The sound of sirens wailing in the distance.