revel in the anticipation, he slowly opened the box, eager to see the revelation of beauty that the hotel manager had experienced.
First, the black velvet lining greeted him, and on the bed of blackness rested… nothing. Sigmund brought the box closer, as if the necklace was possibly miniscule – still nothing. He lifted out the velvet lining, hoping that maybe something was hidden beneath but there was nothing but the bottom of the box.
Wiping his hands across his face, Sigmund tried to keep himself calm. He had had some capers go wrong, but nothing like this. Looking over every part of the box for a hidden compartment, he eventually threw the box across the floor in disgust, watching it slide into the molding on the wall – it was unquestionably empty. He didn’t have time for mistakes like this , he thought to himself . But how could he have known? It didn’t matter, he was running out of time to help Sarah.
Completely defeated, Sigmund sat back and stared angrily at the empty box laying on the floor. That blasted hotel manager! He portrayed himself as so honorable but he was nothing more than a fraud.
For some time Sigmund continued to sit unmoving, his mind starting to contemplate the unsavory – could he break into a random hotel, or random house and steal what is needed to help Sarah? He always was able to satisfy his conscience, barely, by knowing that the owner of the stolen items would probably not even notice it missing. People’s apathy was his justification. But to break in and take something that could be more than just monetarily valuable, perhaps a precious heirloom, would be far beyond the limits that Sigmund had self-imposed. However, he often said and believed that he would do anything to help Sarah. Was that just a nice saying or did he actually mean it? These thoughts raced through his mind until he eventually felt a wave of fatigue wash over him as the adrenaline of the night was starting to bleed out. Usually this would mean he would sleep well, but it had to fight against his disappointment and his conscience.
Sigmund dressed for bed and wearily climbed under the covers. He blew out the candle on his nightstand and stared at the dark ceiling hoping for sleep to overtake him. Although sleep did not come easy, it did eventually come – that is until a loud knocking at his door woke him up.
5.
Sigmund sat up in bed at the sound of the knocking seeing nothing but blackness. He wasn’t sure of the hour, but the darkness meant that it had to be what all would consider quite inappropriate. He struck a match on his night stand and lit a candle.
Sigmund rarely had visitors. Even at his most sociable, he was much more of a visitor than a host. Of course, not even the most sociable had visitors at – Sigmund checked his watch – four in the morning. Besides the awful hour, there was another reason that the visit was suspect – regardless of the necklace box being empty, breaking into the hotel safe and taking it was very illegal and he cast no thoughts otherwise. However, if this was in response to his crime, it seems unlikely that the police would knock. The smart thing to do was to run, he told himself. Of course, the true smart thing to do was to not break the law. Too late now.
Sigmund looked at his father’s watch again – as if he misread it a few seconds earlier. Resting on his elbow, watching the flickering candle light play on his walls, he tried to decide what to do – another knock. Eventually, curiosity overcame his concern – how many tombstones could have that etched into them, he idly thought.
He pulled on a robe and, with candle in hand, walked quietly out of his bedroom to the sitting area. Sigmund silently moved to the door and put his ear to it to see if there was any conversation that was going on. He could hear nothing outside the door, only the inside sounds of the ticking clock near the door and his own heartbeat. Sliding a
First, the black velvet lining greeted him, and on the bed of blackness rested… nothing. Sigmund brought the box closer, as if the necklace was possibly miniscule – still nothing. He lifted out the velvet lining, hoping that maybe something was hidden beneath but there was nothing but the bottom of the box.
Wiping his hands across his face, Sigmund tried to keep himself calm. He had had some capers go wrong, but nothing like this. Looking over every part of the box for a hidden compartment, he eventually threw the box across the floor in disgust, watching it slide into the molding on the wall – it was unquestionably empty. He didn’t have time for mistakes like this , he thought to himself . But how could he have known? It didn’t matter, he was running out of time to help Sarah.
Completely defeated, Sigmund sat back and stared angrily at the empty box laying on the floor. That blasted hotel manager! He portrayed himself as so honorable but he was nothing more than a fraud.
For some time Sigmund continued to sit unmoving, his mind starting to contemplate the unsavory – could he break into a random hotel, or random house and steal what is needed to help Sarah? He always was able to satisfy his conscience, barely, by knowing that the owner of the stolen items would probably not even notice it missing. People’s apathy was his justification. But to break in and take something that could be more than just monetarily valuable, perhaps a precious heirloom, would be far beyond the limits that Sigmund had self-imposed. However, he often said and believed that he would do anything to help Sarah. Was that just a nice saying or did he actually mean it? These thoughts raced through his mind until he eventually felt a wave of fatigue wash over him as the adrenaline of the night was starting to bleed out. Usually this would mean he would sleep well, but it had to fight against his disappointment and his conscience.
Sigmund dressed for bed and wearily climbed under the covers. He blew out the candle on his nightstand and stared at the dark ceiling hoping for sleep to overtake him. Although sleep did not come easy, it did eventually come – that is until a loud knocking at his door woke him up.
5.
Sigmund sat up in bed at the sound of the knocking seeing nothing but blackness. He wasn’t sure of the hour, but the darkness meant that it had to be what all would consider quite inappropriate. He struck a match on his night stand and lit a candle.
Sigmund rarely had visitors. Even at his most sociable, he was much more of a visitor than a host. Of course, not even the most sociable had visitors at – Sigmund checked his watch – four in the morning. Besides the awful hour, there was another reason that the visit was suspect – regardless of the necklace box being empty, breaking into the hotel safe and taking it was very illegal and he cast no thoughts otherwise. However, if this was in response to his crime, it seems unlikely that the police would knock. The smart thing to do was to run, he told himself. Of course, the true smart thing to do was to not break the law. Too late now.
Sigmund looked at his father’s watch again – as if he misread it a few seconds earlier. Resting on his elbow, watching the flickering candle light play on his walls, he tried to decide what to do – another knock. Eventually, curiosity overcame his concern – how many tombstones could have that etched into them, he idly thought.
He pulled on a robe and, with candle in hand, walked quietly out of his bedroom to the sitting area. Sigmund silently moved to the door and put his ear to it to see if there was any conversation that was going on. He could hear nothing outside the door, only the inside sounds of the ticking clock near the door and his own heartbeat. Sliding a
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