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The title is like you say 'Goldmine' but infact, it's a 'Goldwell'.
Sorry it's 40 odd minutes late, meant to post it earlier but only just got home to proof read it, hope it can still count.
........
Jack stepped out into the light street from the alleyway along which he had been walking. Half way down, he had stopped, dropped an envelope, collected another slightly more padded envelope and continued to walk. To the naked eye it simply looked as if he had dropped something and was retrieving it, but to Jack it was a simple routine he followed every other day.
For, in the envelope he had left behind, contained instructions, neatly sealed in a small black envelope, so as not to be conspicuous to the naked eye. It was coloured black so as not to go noticed, and had been placed carefully in a slightly overgrown weed. Very early next morning, another man would walk down that alley, to find the envelope, and as Jack had done, subtly bend down to pick it up and continue on his way.
It was routine, and one that made Jack a very rich man. He had become involved with some very dangerous people, and he was making them look foolish.
It all started three months ago, when Jack had discovered something unusual, very unusual while out for a run in the country..
The day was Tuesday, Tuesday 3rd November and Jack could not sleep. He had things on his mind, due to his recent handing in of notice at the firm he worked, so that he could broaden his horizons, and do a job he actually enjoyed, for now, money was not a problem. As Jack normally did when he couldn’t sleep, he drove out into the country and went for a run along the dirt track through the woods.
Halfway through his three mile run was a clearing, and in the centre of the clearing, a well. Jack would always stop here and stretch, before continuing the rest of his run, back to his 4x4. This Tuesday was different though, and his run came to an abrupt stop just before the clearing when he heard the sound of a car screeching to a sudden halt next to the well. Jack became curious, cars never managed to get this far into the wood, so he crouched down behind a nearby tree and hid behind it, peering stealthily round the trunk.
Out of the car stepped a smartly dressed man, in a black suit with dark shades. In his hand was a parcel, and in the other hand, a gun. The gun glistened in the early morning sun, as the man approached the well, and started to reel up the bucket. When the bucket rose out of the top of the well, the man put his gun on the well’s edge and retrieved another parcel from the bucket. He tucked it neatly into his inner jacket pocket and places his parcel in the bucket, before lowering it again into the depths of the well. The smartly dressed man looked around, picked up his gun and returned to his car, abruptly starting the engine and driving off into the morning sun.
As the car drove out of sight, Jack arose from his crouching position and moved cautiously towards the well, slightly curious as to what he had just witnessed. He approached the well, and grabbed the cold metal handle that adjusted the height of the bucket. He reeled the bucket in, and sure enough saw a brown package in the bucket. He picked it up, and felt that it was heavy. He weighed it in his hand and looked back into the bucket, there sat a note:
‘Here, as usual
Scorpia’
The note gave nothing away, but Jack took a note of the name. He carefully lifted the corner of the package and saw a plastic film, holding together what was unmistakably a wad of cocaine.
Unnerved by what he had seen, Jack put everything back as he had found it, before reeling the bucket back into the well. He continued his run, as if everything was as normal.
Since then, Jack had done some research. He had discovered that Scorpia was not the name of a person, but of a small organisation, which dealt drugs. They were based in central London, and Jack had tracked them down. Ever since then he had been blackmailing them, they paid him money, and he kept quiet. That was the deal.
Jack stepped out of the phone box, and put his set of screwdrivers away. In his inside pocket he placed a brown envelope, slightly padded, with nothing written on it. In it’s place he had left another envelope, black this time, with the arrangements for the location of the next drop. No point taking risks was there?
They couldn’t kill him, for Jack had sent a letter to his lawyers to be opened on his death, with all the details of Scorpia, an illegal organisation. If they played their part, Jack, on his death bed, would request the letter to be destroyed, until then it would be the same old routine, every other day.
..............
Ta
Sorry it's 40 odd minutes late, meant to post it earlier but only just got home to proof read it, hope it can still count.
........
Jack stepped out into the light street from the alleyway along which he had been walking. Half way down, he had stopped, dropped an envelope, collected another slightly more padded envelope and continued to walk. To the naked eye it simply looked as if he had dropped something and was retrieving it, but to Jack it was a simple routine he followed every other day.
For, in the envelope he had left behind, contained instructions, neatly sealed in a small black envelope, so as not to be conspicuous to the naked eye. It was coloured black so as not to go noticed, and had been placed carefully in a slightly overgrown weed. Very early next morning, another man would walk down that alley, to find the envelope, and as Jack had done, subtly bend down to pick it up and continue on his way.
It was routine, and one that made Jack a very rich man. He had become involved with some very dangerous people, and he was making them look foolish.
It all started three months ago, when Jack had discovered something unusual, very unusual while out for a run in the country..
The day was Tuesday, Tuesday 3rd November and Jack could not sleep. He had things on his mind, due to his recent handing in of notice at the firm he worked, so that he could broaden his horizons, and do a job he actually enjoyed, for now, money was not a problem. As Jack normally did when he couldn’t sleep, he drove out into the country and went for a run along the dirt track through the woods.
Halfway through his three mile run was a clearing, and in the centre of the clearing, a well. Jack would always stop here and stretch, before continuing the rest of his run, back to his 4x4. This Tuesday was different though, and his run came to an abrupt stop just before the clearing when he heard the sound of a car screeching to a sudden halt next to the well. Jack became curious, cars never managed to get this far into the wood, so he crouched down behind a nearby tree and hid behind it, peering stealthily round the trunk.
Out of the car stepped a smartly dressed man, in a black suit with dark shades. In his hand was a parcel, and in the other hand, a gun. The gun glistened in the early morning sun, as the man approached the well, and started to reel up the bucket. When the bucket rose out of the top of the well, the man put his gun on the well’s edge and retrieved another parcel from the bucket. He tucked it neatly into his inner jacket pocket and places his parcel in the bucket, before lowering it again into the depths of the well. The smartly dressed man looked around, picked up his gun and returned to his car, abruptly starting the engine and driving off into the morning sun.
As the car drove out of sight, Jack arose from his crouching position and moved cautiously towards the well, slightly curious as to what he had just witnessed. He approached the well, and grabbed the cold metal handle that adjusted the height of the bucket. He reeled the bucket in, and sure enough saw a brown package in the bucket. He picked it up, and felt that it was heavy. He weighed it in his hand and looked back into the bucket, there sat a note:
‘Here, as usual
Scorpia’
The note gave nothing away, but Jack took a note of the name. He carefully lifted the corner of the package and saw a plastic film, holding together what was unmistakably a wad of cocaine.
Unnerved by what he had seen, Jack put everything back as he had found it, before reeling the bucket back into the well. He continued his run, as if everything was as normal.
Since then, Jack had done some research. He had discovered that Scorpia was not the name of a person, but of a small organisation, which dealt drugs. They were based in central London, and Jack had tracked them down. Ever since then he had been blackmailing them, they paid him money, and he kept quiet. That was the deal.
Jack stepped out of the phone box, and put his set of screwdrivers away. In his inside pocket he placed a brown envelope, slightly padded, with nothing written on it. In it’s place he had left another envelope, black this time, with the arrangements for the location of the next drop. No point taking risks was there?
They couldn’t kill him, for Jack had sent a letter to his lawyers to be opened on his death, with all the details of Scorpia, an illegal organisation. If they played their part, Jack, on his death bed, would request the letter to be destroyed, until then it would be the same old routine, every other day.
..............
Ta
That was my comment as just a story.
Didn't win, so comments as just a story?
Hmmm.
The title is like you say 'Goldmine' but infact, it's a 'Goldwell'.
Sorry it's 40 odd minutes late, meant to post it earlier but only just got home to proof read it, hope it can still count.
........
Jack stepped out into the light street from the alleyway along which he had been walking. Half way down, he had stopped, dropped an envelope, collected another slightly more padded envelope and continued to walk. To the naked eye it simply looked as if he had dropped something and was retrieving it, but to Jack it was a simple routine he followed every other day.
For, in the envelope he had left behind, contained instructions, neatly sealed in a small black envelope, so as not to be conspicuous to the naked eye. It was coloured black so as not to go noticed, and had been placed carefully in a slightly overgrown weed. Very early next morning, another man would walk down that alley, to find the envelope, and as Jack had done, subtly bend down to pick it up and continue on his way.
It was routine, and one that made Jack a very rich man. He had become involved with some very dangerous people, and he was making them look foolish.
It all started three months ago, when Jack had discovered something unusual, very unusual while out for a run in the country..
The day was Tuesday, Tuesday 3rd November and Jack could not sleep. He had things on his mind, due to his recent handing in of notice at the firm he worked, so that he could broaden his horizons, and do a job he actually enjoyed, for now, money was not a problem. As Jack normally did when he couldn’t sleep, he drove out into the country and went for a run along the dirt track through the woods.
Halfway through his three mile run was a clearing, and in the centre of the clearing, a well. Jack would always stop here and stretch, before continuing the rest of his run, back to his 4x4. This Tuesday was different though, and his run came to an abrupt stop just before the clearing when he heard the sound of a car screeching to a sudden halt next to the well. Jack became curious, cars never managed to get this far into the wood, so he crouched down behind a nearby tree and hid behind it, peering stealthily round the trunk.
Out of the car stepped a smartly dressed man, in a black suit with dark shades. In his hand was a parcel, and in the other hand, a gun. The gun glistened in the early morning sun, as the man approached the well, and started to reel up the bucket. When the bucket rose out of the top of the well, the man put his gun on the well’s edge and retrieved another parcel from the bucket. He tucked it neatly into his inner jacket pocket and places his parcel in the bucket, before lowering it again into the depths of the well. The smartly dressed man looked around, picked up his gun and returned to his car, abruptly starting the engine and driving off into the morning sun.
As the car drove out of sight, Jack arose from his crouching position and moved cautiously towards the well, slightly curious as to what he had just witnessed. He approached the well, and grabbed the cold metal handle that adjusted the height of the bucket. He reeled the bucket in, and sure enough saw a brown package in the bucket. He picked it up, and felt that it was heavy. He weighed it in his hand and looked back into the bucket, there sat a note:
‘Here, as usual
Scorpia’
The note gave nothing away, but Jack took a note of the name. He carefully lifted the corner of the package and saw a plastic film, holding together what was unmistakably a wad of cocaine.
Unnerved by what he had seen, Jack put everything back as he had found it, before reeling the bucket back into the well. He continued his run, as if everything was as normal.
Since then, Jack had done some research. He had discovered that Scorpia was not the name of a person, but of a small organisation, which dealt drugs. They were based in central London, and Jack had tracked them down. Ever since then he had been blackmailing them, they paid him money, and he kept quiet. That was the deal.
Jack stepped out of the phone box, and put his set of screwdrivers away. In his inside pocket he placed a brown envelope, slightly padded, with nothing written on it. In it’s place he had left another envelope, black this time, with the arrangements for the location of the next drop. No point taking risks was there?
They couldn’t kill him, for Jack had sent a letter to his lawyers to be opened on his death, with all the details of Scorpia, an illegal organisation. If they played their part, Jack, on his death bed, would request the letter to be destroyed, until then it would be the same old routine, every other day.
..............
Ta
Sorry it's 40 odd minutes late, meant to post it earlier but only just got home to proof read it, hope it can still count.
........
Jack stepped out into the light street from the alleyway along which he had been walking. Half way down, he had stopped, dropped an envelope, collected another slightly more padded envelope and continued to walk. To the naked eye it simply looked as if he had dropped something and was retrieving it, but to Jack it was a simple routine he followed every other day.
For, in the envelope he had left behind, contained instructions, neatly sealed in a small black envelope, so as not to be conspicuous to the naked eye. It was coloured black so as not to go noticed, and had been placed carefully in a slightly overgrown weed. Very early next morning, another man would walk down that alley, to find the envelope, and as Jack had done, subtly bend down to pick it up and continue on his way.
It was routine, and one that made Jack a very rich man. He had become involved with some very dangerous people, and he was making them look foolish.
It all started three months ago, when Jack had discovered something unusual, very unusual while out for a run in the country..
The day was Tuesday, Tuesday 3rd November and Jack could not sleep. He had things on his mind, due to his recent handing in of notice at the firm he worked, so that he could broaden his horizons, and do a job he actually enjoyed, for now, money was not a problem. As Jack normally did when he couldn’t sleep, he drove out into the country and went for a run along the dirt track through the woods.
Halfway through his three mile run was a clearing, and in the centre of the clearing, a well. Jack would always stop here and stretch, before continuing the rest of his run, back to his 4x4. This Tuesday was different though, and his run came to an abrupt stop just before the clearing when he heard the sound of a car screeching to a sudden halt next to the well. Jack became curious, cars never managed to get this far into the wood, so he crouched down behind a nearby tree and hid behind it, peering stealthily round the trunk.
Out of the car stepped a smartly dressed man, in a black suit with dark shades. In his hand was a parcel, and in the other hand, a gun. The gun glistened in the early morning sun, as the man approached the well, and started to reel up the bucket. When the bucket rose out of the top of the well, the man put his gun on the well’s edge and retrieved another parcel from the bucket. He tucked it neatly into his inner jacket pocket and places his parcel in the bucket, before lowering it again into the depths of the well. The smartly dressed man looked around, picked up his gun and returned to his car, abruptly starting the engine and driving off into the morning sun.
As the car drove out of sight, Jack arose from his crouching position and moved cautiously towards the well, slightly curious as to what he had just witnessed. He approached the well, and grabbed the cold metal handle that adjusted the height of the bucket. He reeled the bucket in, and sure enough saw a brown package in the bucket. He picked it up, and felt that it was heavy. He weighed it in his hand and looked back into the bucket, there sat a note:
‘Here, as usual
Scorpia’
The note gave nothing away, but Jack took a note of the name. He carefully lifted the corner of the package and saw a plastic film, holding together what was unmistakably a wad of cocaine.
Unnerved by what he had seen, Jack put everything back as he had found it, before reeling the bucket back into the well. He continued his run, as if everything was as normal.
Since then, Jack had done some research. He had discovered that Scorpia was not the name of a person, but of a small organisation, which dealt drugs. They were based in central London, and Jack had tracked them down. Ever since then he had been blackmailing them, they paid him money, and he kept quiet. That was the deal.
Jack stepped out of the phone box, and put his set of screwdrivers away. In his inside pocket he placed a brown envelope, slightly padded, with nothing written on it. In it’s place he had left another envelope, black this time, with the arrangements for the location of the next drop. No point taking risks was there?
They couldn’t kill him, for Jack had sent a letter to his lawyers to be opened on his death, with all the details of Scorpia, an illegal organisation. If they played their part, Jack, on his death bed, would request the letter to be destroyed, until then it would be the same old routine, every other day.
..............
Ta