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A year in the life of Rosie Leroy

door killea

A year in the life of Rosie Leroy




What the fuck is that noise? Banging on my front door? Jesus, I have only been in bed for five minutes; I look at the clock with one eye. God my head hurts.
It's all coming back to me. Vodka and stuff. I knew 20 years ago that it was no good for me yet here I am, TWENTY YEARS LATER AND STILL BLOODY WELL DOING IT. I am going to have to change my life.

The noise at the door continues ricocheting throughout the unit. Who the hell could that be?
I begrudgingly slide into my housecoat, and trembling from lack of sleep and exposure I carefully select my paces as I inch down the stairs to the front door. My toe whacks an empty wine bottle on my way to the door. It must have been some party last night. At least the arsehole whose dog bit me last time didn't come.
Pulling back the tiny lace curtain hiding a spy hole in the door I see a man standing on the footpath. He's not someone I recognize.
"Who is it? I ask.
"Military police!".
"What is it you want?"
"It relates to a message received from you two days ago and your reply yesterday."

The fog of the previous night lifts a little and vague recollections come fleetingly to mind.
"What about the email?" still looking through the spy hole.
In the background three car doors open and the occupants alight, the glisten of a handgun shines for a second from one man's belt.
Shit, what the fuck is going on? The groggy daze lifts as fear invades and begins to replace the stupor from last night. Sober in an instant!
"One moment" I reply, I will need to put on some clothes, I will be one minute.
" No longer please madam." was the reply from the man at the door.

I quietly made my way up the stars to my bedroom, moving quickly I scoop up a pair of jeans, a thick jumper, overcoat and runners. Opening the double doors to my roof garden, I climb the low brick wall onto my neighbour's deck and clamber down the rear stairs to the ground below. A small overhang gave me seclusion where I quickly donned my clothes, and throwing my overcoat around me ran through the laneway at the end of the overhang. I can still hear the knocking.

Running to the end of the laneway I turned left, sprinted to the end of my street in time to see three men break down my front door and spray the house with gunfire.
Oh shit, what have I done.........?

 

feedback van andere lezers

  • Danvoieanne
    Spannend geschreven ...
    killea: many thanks Anne
    xx
    j
  • Hoeselaar
    Mein Englisch ist nicht so gut das ich es Sprachtechnisch beurteilen kan, tut mir leid.

    Willy
    killea: thank you anyway schatz
    xx
    j
  • Rothe
    Vlot en zeer vloeiend geschreven. Groetjes, Rothe x
    killea: Many thanks Rothe
    xx
    j
  • hettie35
    Ook mijn Engels is niet alles, maar ik heb het vertaald en het boeit mij de lijn van je verhaal.
    Liefs Hettie
    killea: thank you Hettie
    xxx
    j
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