There can only be one winner...

It's in a deep dark night when a mysterious figure sneaks down the street. She has a determined look at her face and clearly does not intend to let herself be knocked out of the field by anywhere, not even by the steadily falling spring. Using objects such as walls, houses and trunks of the lime trees, she continues her way. Is she a burglar on her way to a place of her preference where she can strike? Or did she escape from a prison?? Or worse?

Near a window, she stays standing. She looks around her, and if she doesn't see anyone, she takes a metal rod out of her purse.. She certainly has talent, although you won't see this in a show soon, the window is quickly ripped open. Again she looks carefully around and sees that the coast is still safe. She does not seem to be afraid, in this profession a shitthrush is unusable. In the blink of an eye, she climbs in over the windowsill. For a moment she stands still to accustom her eyes to the dark. She looks around, but there is not much to see. On the table is a newspaper. An advertisement announcing a swimming contest is circled with a thick marker.

“Sure you're not gonna win tomorrow, “she mumbles, barely audible. Then she opens the bag next to the table on the floor, searches for a moment, and triumphantly pulls out the swimsuit.

“No, you're not gonna win!'she is just as gently repeating. She crams the swimsuit into her own bag and climbs out over the window sill.. She gently presses the window again. If someone had looked out, this one could see the woman with her loot running away from the shadows. But no one looked...

(c) 2021 Hans van Gemert

This story fits into the vocabulary #writingchallenge van Schrijvelarij (FB-group): use the following keywords in a story (of up to 800):

Spring Wags Shitthrush Linden Tree Swimming Competition Preferred Running Prison Swimsuit Show Advertisement