Creative Story : A Short Story

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A shadow stepped out of a car. The force of the wind was so strong it knocked him down. When he stumbled back to his feet, he brushed leaves from his hair then pushed forwards into the wind. Around him, branches and loose twigs whipped into a frenzied vortex. A few yards along the lane, he stopped. What was that noise? Out of the dark, a shape loomed towards him, getting larger the closer it came. Just in time, he bent low as a barn roof flew over the top of his head. What the hell? Harry Jewel cursed to himself. Behind him, he heard a crack. He turned to watch the roof tumble over and over, then smash into his car. From there, it disintegrated into a thousand pieces, with loose shards of wood flying over a hedge and into a neighbouring field. Well! What a wreck! He wouldn’t be able to use that car again, not that it mattered, since it never belonged to him in the first place. When he escaped prison earlier that day, he stole a car and crunched its gears all the way to Seashell Bay, and when he eventually reached the cave, his anger hit the roof. Who stole all his money? By that time, he figured out who framed him up by planting the bomb in the boot of his car. And that same person must have taken his money from the cave. None other than the indomitable Lord Nicholas Fox. That la-di-da piece of shite. And now he was after revenge. So, he parked the stolen car just off a woodland track then trudged his way along Copse Lane. His anger drove him forwards through the wind.

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