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It was a cold November night. A thin layer of ice developed on the pavement. The regulars poured in through the pub door. I had a busy night ahead of me. I listened to the sad lives of the customers as they attempted to drown their sorrows in glass of Guinness. Most of the customers at the pub where I worked were lonely old men, who had nothing better to do than to sit at the bar and talk to me. I knew them all well. It was about half past ten. I realised that the barrels needed changing in the cellar. As I went downstairs, I heard noises. I looked through the keyhole, and saw two men in the cellar. They must have broken in through the back door. There seemed to be a dispute. I watched nosily, as what seemed an extremely interesting sequence of events unfolded. There were two men, a small, plump man in a checked suit, who looked extremely anxious. I could see him sweating through the keyhole. I assumed he was in some sort of trouble with the other man. The other man was dark skinned, tall, heavily built, and wore necklaces and rings all over his body. He had a vicious face. He was the sort of person you don’t want to be locked in a room with, and this unfortunate man was. The man in trouble tried to discreetly shuffle away from the other man, but he failed. The large man took two giant steps to close the gap again, and clenched his fists. “Where’s the money?” he growled. The man panted heavily “I I I don’t have it, sir” stammered the fat man. “Where’s the money?” he demanded again, in a more menacing tone. There was no answer as the man shivered nervously. The dark man reached into his pocket and drew out a small, black pistol. The plump man swallowed heavily and fell helplessly to his knees as the pistol was aimed at his head. I turned away, praying that nothing would happen.
Approximate Word count = 1366
Approximate Pages = 5.5
(250 words per page double spaced)
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