Master Theft

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I am a thief.

It started with small things, a cookie from a cookie jar, a teddy from the kid at nursery, a couple of crayons from my best mate in Year 1 and even a couple of notes from my old Mother’s purse. And the funny thing is – I never get caught.

My schoolwork was poor; I was pathetic at sports; I could hardly write properly let alone draw and the only music I could make was to jingle the stolen coins in my pocket. But I was good at one thing; you probably guessed it by now: I was the master of Theft.

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I am 15 years old now, and am already at the top of my game. Another day; another shop to lift. I walk in; look at the guard standing at the door. He was huge, his head loomed too close to the ceiling, I gave him a little smile; me second worst enemy. He sneered back; he knew what I had come to do, but he also knew he couldn’t catch me.  This was too easy.

As I walked through the aisles, which were covered with various types of stationary, I looked for any security cameras. My first worst enemy. ...

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