Third Person by Maggie Jamieson Adrian


Thatcham Writers 2004
Point of View from February Assignment
You can read a particular members work by clicking on the author's name: by Phil Golden by Diane Lawton by Anita Loughrey

First Person by Philip Golden
	I peered cautiously into the darkened alley, it was deserted. Quickly I opened the boot and hauled the heavy bundle out; quietly cursing; first at the boot light which automatically lit up the scene. Then at the effort of hauling the gruesome bundle. I half carried, half dragged my burden into the darker depths of the alley. As I struggled; sweating and gasping for breath, I feared my awful load was leaving a trail. As I paused for breath, alone in the deepest shadow, my thoughts returned to the previous evening. I must have looked an eerie sight just then. If anyone could have seen me; gasping for breath, yet smiling as I remembered the ‘accident’. I let go and the bundle fell in a heap. It lay slumped against the alley wall. I staggered and reached out a hand, the wall was cold, damp and slimy. As my breath returned, I became aware of the rancid smell surrounding me. Stale urine, rotting vegetation, and take-away food, all against a faint backdrop of vomit. I couldn’t tell which odour belonged to the alley and which to my loathsome load. In the distance a siren warbled and shrieked its way through the deserted city streets; my smile drew wider as the sound receded. As my eyes became accustomed to the dark, I could see my breath; a fleeting grey cloud, each time I breathed out. I looked down at the package and examined my conscience. There was no guilt, not even surprise, it was inevitable I thought. There really was no other way it could have ended. I felt a little sad. My mind drifted back, I remembered the good times. The dizzy excitement of the early weeks, the experiments in the months that followed. It had never gone this far before. ‘Ariva-derci’ I said as I turned my back on the shadowy lump towards the car. A fine mist of dew already formed on the cold, metal roof. Behind me I heard a creak then a muffled groan, followed by a tearing sound and a loud ‘flump’. I froze, remote still pointing at the Mercedes, my head twisted round, my eyes searched the darkness. A cat shrieked, a bottle toppled then tinkled as it rolled across the greasy pavement. Though my heart was beating like a hammer, I knew the truth; no reason to panic. It was simply that the cheap, black, refuse sacks and the old frayed dressing gown cord, were not strong enough to contain their ghastly burden. The bundle was bent double in the boot. However, although I couldn’t see it, from the half light near the kerb, I knew my guilty secret had unbent itself. And now it lay unfolded, across the alley floor. Waiting, blindly. I jumped in the car and drove off. What else could I do? When they’d delivered my new mattress they’d refused to dispose of the old one, (unhygienic, they’d said). Well it was the city’s hygiene problem now.
Dialogue by Phil Golden
	“Come on Lucy, stop staring out the window and come back to bed.” “Just a minute, Mr Plod; I’m just looking at something.” “No, quick, get back in before you get cold.” “Cold? I’m still sweating.” “I’m not cuddling you if you come back to bed freezing cold” “Look I’m not one of your constables you know. You can’t order me about like you’re at work.” “I wouldn’t want you to be one of my constables, I much preferr you as you are; my little delectible dentist. Come back to bed I think I need another oral examination, look.” “I wouldn’t let your inspector see you doing that, isn’t that truncheon abuse or some other offence?” “What are you staring at anyway?” “Nothing, just looking. Just thinking what a dodgy area you chose to live in.” “There’s nothing dodgy about this place, it’s an up and coming district, lots of proffesionals moving in.” “Proffesionals?….Hit-men and prostitutes maybe, doctors and lawyers… I doubt it” “Dentists?” “Not this one! No way. Not unless you get an elevator installed, 4 floors of stairs is just too knackering.” “But it’s woth it for the view; right?” “What; gloomy, rubish-stewn alleys? Broken streetlights and glass topped walls? The kind of wildlife David Attenborough’s never met.” “Well come back to bed then; I’ll buy some curtains tomorrow, so you won’t have to look at it, OK?” “Just a minute, I’m just watching this bloke in the alley.” “Ah,…look if it’s that one… you if he’s doing that thing again, don’t worry about it, he’s probably just lonely. I’ll get rid of him if you want. Just come back to bed soon!” “I don’t know about him, but this one’s struggling with a very heavy bundle.” “So am I, get over here and help me, quick quick!” “No, really, he’s parked at the end of the alley, and got it out of the boot. He only just managed to lift it.” [back to top]
Diamond Heist by Anita Loughrey
	First Person without Dialogue I sat, hugging my knees in my box and listened to the policemen’s conversation as they searched the alley behind the jewellers for evidence. The robbery had taken place two o’clock in the morning. Or that was what the security camera had registered before it was vandalised. The thief had stolen £50, 000 worth of diamonds. I saw the younger of the two policemen pick up a litter picker. I watched as the Private called Larry, scratched his head and waved a litter picker at his colleague. The Sergeant took the litter picker and looked at it suspiciously. He demonstrated the pincher movement as he made a pathetic joke about needing tweezers like when he was a dentist, to pick up the diamonds. Larry laughed. I didn’t get the joke. Police. They're as pathetic as dentists. The Sergeant handed the litter picker back to Larry and noticed me for the first time partially covered in my box with a grubby car blanket I’d found discarded at the park. Larry demonstrated the reach of the litter picker whilst standing on his tiptoes indicating it could have been used for vandalising the security camera. The Sergeant jerked his thumb at me. I stared back. The Sergeant looked disinterested but agreed that Private Larry should bag the litter picker for evidence as long as he didn’t get stuck with the paper work. Larry bagged the litter picker and continued his search for evidence in the narrow alley behind the jewellers. Larry whistled through his teeth and showed the Sergeant where the wire to the alarm had been cut. The Sergeant believed it was an inside job and ordered Larry to find out all the names of the employees in the last six months. Larry scribbled it down in his notebook. I could not help sniggering to myself. When the Sergeant returned to the station with the litter picker, he walked straight past me without giving me a second glance. Private Larry started the tedious search of the large, green bins at the far end of the alley. I shook my head. They never notice the things right under their noses. I took out a brown paper bag concealed beneath my blanket and smiled, a broad toothless grin. I opened the bag and slowly let the diamonds trickle through my fingers. ************************ First Person with Dialogue I sat, hugging my knees in my box and listened to the policemen’s conversation. “What have you got there, Larry?” “It looks like a litter picker, Sarg.” I watched as the Private, called Larry scratched his head and waved the litter picker at his colleague. “Maybe we should bag it and send it in for evidence.” The Sergeant took the litter picker and looked at it suspiciously. “Don’t be daft man. You’ll never pick up a diamond with that.” He demonstrated the pincher movement with the litter picker. “It would fall right through, see. They would have used tweezers, like I used to use in my dentistry days. You’re looking for something smaller man.” The younger man laughed. I didn’t get the joke. Police. They're as pathetic as dentists. The Sergeant handed the litter picker back and noticed me for the first time partially covered by my warm, although slightly grubby car blanket I’d found discarded at the park. “Not for picking up the diamonds, Sir. For vandalising the security camera.” Larry demonstrated the reach of the litter picker whilst standing on his tiptoes. “I reckon this is what they used, Sarg.” “Probably, belongs to the old tramp.” The Sergeant jerked his thumb at me. I stared back. “S’posse, you could always send it into the lab for finger prints.” The Sergeant looked disinterested. “But you’re doing the paper work.” The young private bagged the litter picker and continued his search for evidence in the narrow alley behind the jewellers. “What time did the robbery take place then Sarg?” “Late last night. Security camera clocked 2am, before it was vandalised.” “£50,000 worth of diamonds.” He whistled through his teeth. “Look Sir. This is where they cut the wire to the alarm.” “I think they’ve done it before, maybe an inside job. You need to get the names of all employees over the last,” the Sergeant paused, “six months.” “Yes Sergeant.” Larry scribbled it down in his notebook. I could not help sniggering to myself. “I’m going back to the station,” the Sergeant said, “I’ll take the evidence with me.” He took the litter picker and carried it under his arm. “You need to check the bins.” He walked straight past me without giving me a second glance. Private Larry started the tedious search of the large, green bins at the far end of the alley. “Never notice what’s right under their nose.” I shook my head in disbelief. “It’s always the same.” I took out the brown paper bag concealed beneath my blanket and smiled, a broad toothless grin. I opened the bag and slowly let the glistening diamonds trickle through my fingers. ******************* Third Person without Dialogue Tom sat, hugging his knees in his box and listened to the policemen’s conversation as they searched the alley behind the jewellers for evidence. The robbery had taken place two o’clock in the morning. Or that was what the security camera had registered before it was vandalised. The thief had stolen £50, 000 worth of diamonds. Tom saw the younger of the two policemen pick up a litter picker. Tom watched as Private Larry Conner scratched his head and waved a litter picker at his colleague. Sergeant Mahoney took the litter picker and looked at it suspiciously. He demonstrated the pincher movement as he made a pathetic joke about needing tweezers like when he was a dentist, to pick up the diamonds. Larry laughed. Tom didn’t get the joke. He hated policemen and dentists. The Sergeant handed the litter picker back to Larry and noticed Tom for the first time partially covered in his box with a grubby car blanket he had found discarded at the park. Larry demonstrated the reach of the litter picker whilst standing on his tiptoes indicating it could have been used for vandalising the security camera. The Sergeant jerked his thumb at Tom. Tom stared back. Sergeant Mahoney looked disinterested but agreed that Private Larry Conner should bag the litter picker for evidence as long as he did not get stuck with the paper work. Larry bagged the litter picker and continued his search for evidence in the narrow alley behind the jewellers. Larry whistled through his teeth and showed Sergeant Mahoney where the wire to the alarm had been cut. The Sergeant believed it was an inside job and ordered Larry to find out all the names of the employees in the last six months. Larry scribbled it down in his notebook. Tom could not help sniggering to himself. When the Sergeant returned to the station with the litter picker, he walked straight past Tom without giving him a second glance. Private Larry Conner started the tedious search of the large, green bins at the far end of the alley. Tom shook his head. He took out a brown paper bag concealed beneath his blanket and smiled, a broad toothless grin. He opened the bag and slowly let the diamonds trickle through his fingers. ******************* Third Person with Dialogue** Tom sat, hugging his knees in his box and listened to the policemen’s conversation. “What have you got there, Larry?” “It looks like a litter picker, Sarg.” Tom watched as Private Larry Conner scratched his head and waved the litter picker at his colleague. “Maybe we should bag it and send it in for evidence.” The Sergeant took the litter picker and looked at it suspiciously. “Don’t be daft man. You’ll never pick up a diamond with that.” Sergeant Mahoney demonstrated the pincher movement with the litter picker. “It would fall right through, see. They would have used tweezers, like I used to use in my dentistry days. You’re looking for something smaller man.” Larry laughed. Tom didn’t get the joke. He hated policemen and dentists. The Sergeant handed the litter picker back to Larry and noticed Tom for the first time partially covered in his box with a grubby car blanket. “Not for picking up the diamonds, Sir. For vandalising the security camera.” Larry demonstrated the reach of the litter picker whilst standing on his tiptoes. “I reckon this is what they used, Sarg.” “Probably, belongs to the old tramp.” The Sergeant jerked his thumb at Tom. Tom stared back. “S’posse, you could always send it into the lab for finger prints.” Sergeant Mahoney looked disinterested. “But you’re doing the paper work.” Larry bagged the litter picker and continued his search for evidence in the narrow alley behind the jewellers. “What time did the robbery take place then Sarg?” “Late last night. Security camera clocked 2am, before it was vandalised.” “£50,000 worth of diamonds.” Larry whistled through his teeth. “Look Sir. This is where they cut the wire to the alarm.” “I think they’ve done it before, maybe an inside job. You need to get the names of all employees over the last,” he paused, “six months.” “Yes Sergeant.” Larry scribbled it down in his notebook. Tom could not help sniggering to himself. “I’m going back to the station,” Sergeant Mahoney said. “I’ll take the evidence with me.” He took the litter picker and carried it under his arm. “You need to check the bins.” The Sergeant walked straight past Tom without giving him a second glance. Private Larry Conner started the tedious search of the large, green bins at the far end of the alley. “Never notice what’s right under their nose.” Tom shook his head. “It’s always the same.” He took out a brown paper bag concealed beneath his blanket and smiled, a broad toothless grin. He opened the bag and slowly let the glistening diamonds trickle through his fingers. [back to top]
First person with dialogue 268 words by Ian Burton
	I didn’t want this detail. Sarg’ just doesn’t like me. Why didn’t I keep quiet, but no? I had to open my big mouth….again! “Sarg’,” I said, sarg’, have you seen the shit piled up in the alley behind the station?” He hadn’t, but he soon did, and boy have I regretted it since. “Get out there and clear it quick,” he said, “Can’t have dinner ‘til it’s cleared,” he said, “keep it clear from now on,” he said. I should never have gossiped, especially knowing he was in the building. He heard me! Christ! I’m stupid! He’s had it in for me ever since. All the rest I can cope with, but this, this is, well, crap. Last but one, - I suppose it wasn’t so bad once I’d turned it into a game. Bag by the wall, litter on the stick. Turn away and toss it over my shoulder. I’ve got pretty good at it now as well. Rarely miss. 8 out of 10 hits. Started off it was 8 out of 10 misses. Last piece. Jab – oh for fu.., why me, why this, why there. Why do dogs have to have arses? I’ve a good mind to leave it on Sarg’s car seat. No, under it! He won’t have a clue where the smell’s from. Wrap. pickup. Phwoar! Not far to the car park. The attendant ’ll be on his lunch, lucky bastard. Good, the car is unlocked. Lean in. Reach under…. “Bates, what the fuck are you doing in my car…..?!
Dialogue 233 words by Ian Burton
	“Sarg’, have you seen the shit piled up in the alley behind the station?” “No, is it so bad? Give me 5 minutes and I’ll have a look.” "Bates, can you get out there right away and clear it. You can take your lunch when it’s done. Oh, and you can make it your job from now on.” “Yes Sarg’.” Resignedly. Mumbling quietly to himself, Bates collected his litter stick, proceeded to the alley and commenced operation cleanup. “I should never have gossiped, especially knowing he was in the building. He heard me! Christ! I’m stupid! He’s had it in for me ever since. All the rest I can cope with, but this, this is crap. Oi, you little bugger, pick that up and clear off!” “Arrgh stuff it granddad,” the tiny punk shouted, stuck out his tongue, stuck up his middle finger in mock salute, and disappeared ‘round the corner. “Oh piss off” he muttered, too tired to give chase. “Better finish this or I’ll never get any lunch. Last piece. Oh for fu.., filthy dogs. I’ve a good mind to leave it on Sarg’s car seat. No, under it. He won’t have a clue where the smell’s coming from.” "Good, the car is unlocked.” “Bates, What the fuck are you doing in my car…..?!” [back to top]

Point of View from February Assignment