H er body lay there , cold in the morning sunlight , the light breeze brushing her hair into patterns on the floor . Her hands frosted in a light layer of ice , beautiful and still . A cry disturbs the morning silence : high and piercing , as the earliest risers of the city see the body lying there . A small crowd gather , huddled together , staring at the silent cold body . The sound of pounding footsteps echoes down the small alley and the crowd parts as a woman sinks to her knees , her face buried in her hands . Her cry a whisper , but audible to everyone gathered around .

26 / 12 / 2013

Luciana looks round the corner , there ’ s the normal crowd of people shopping , people taking pictures , people talking . Enough people for her to go unnoticed , for her to get what she needs . She turns around to face the others and whistle three times , the signal that they are clear to go . Adelia sprints off to the left , Lucca to the right , Mariella and her brother Simon run ahead to the northern edge of the crowd , and she walks into the middle of the swarming crowd . She looks at the second-hand watch on her wrist ; it ’ s time . She walks casually behind a middle-aged man in a long brown coat , she can see his wallet sticking out of his coat pocket , bulging with newly printed money , and as he stops to talk to what must be a friend , she takes her chance . She swiftly pinches the wallet out of his pocket , she feels bad , but she knows that she must do it ; it ’ s the only way that she can survive , that they can survive . She pushes the wallet into her own shabby jacket and carries on walking . The next victim is a tall blond woman in high heels and a fur coat . She looks rich . She delves into the woman ’ s handbag whilst she is waiting in the coffee shop for her drink , but her hand gets caught on something . She tries to pull her hand out as carefully as she can , but she ’ s not careful enough , the woman looks around and sees her with her hand in her bag . “ What do you think you ’ re doing ?” She says , her voice is high , almost squeaky , but snappy and sharp . She steps back as much as she can without pulling the bag off the woman ’ s shoulder , “ Sorry ,” Luciana stammers . “ I thought that I dropped my phone in your bag and I was trying to look for it without disturbing you .” It ’ s a lame excuse , it even sounds stupid to her , but the woman seems to fall for it . And as she starts taking things out of her bag and putting them on a table , looking for her phone , Luciana notices her wallet on the table , she snatches it and runs . The woman looks up and sees her wallet gone ; her pink crocodile skin wallet gone , and the brown tail of Luciana ’ s coat disappearing into the distance .

She knows it ’ s me ; I know I ’ ve been caught . Thoughts whirl around Luciana ’ s head and she sinks to the ground as a fresh wave of guilt floods into her . I ’ ll have to warn the others , we ’ ll have to find a different part of the city , a new place to stay , a new place to survive . And it ’ s all my fault . Footsteps echo down the winding alleyway behind the houses , and the shadow of someone running closer . Luciana steps back into the shadows , hoping she won ’ t be seen . “ Luciana !” the shouts are getting closer , she braces herself . “ There you are ! What are you doing hiding in a back alley ? I ’ ve been looking for you everywhere !” says Mariella , her voice muffled as she throws her arms around Luciana ’ s neck . “ I can ’ t breathe ,” stammers Luciana . “ It ’ s a long story anyway , we need to be quick , find the others . Oh - where ’ s Simon ?” She asks realising that for once Mariella ’ s twin brother - Simon - wasn ’ t by her side . “ Oh he ran off , doesn ’ t matter ! But word is going around that some woman had nearly a million dollars stolen from her . You ’ ll never guess who it was ! It was … oh …” Mariella breaks off as she sees Luciana ’ s expression . “ Oh , it wasn ’ t you was it ? Please say it wasn ’ t you .” Mariella ’ s short dark hair hangs down in front of her face as she looks at her feet , fiddling with her hair-tie , praying for someone to help her . Minutes pass in awkward silence , finally , Mariella sighs

Hong Kong Young Writers Anthologies Fiction Group 3 - 2017 | Page 180