Love Street

Submitted into Contest #18 in response to: Write a story about a very skilled pickpocket. ... view prompt



The river seine really is magical, whether you witness its striking beauty in broad daylight or when the sun sets and man-made light illuminates the darkened city.

Ah Paris, the city of love they say. The city of hope and dreams whatnot. A bunch of rubbish really. It's just so-

tick tick tick tick

And there goes my overused wristwatch signaling the start of my daily work. I smirk to myself as I spot a man dressed in a white coat caressing the arms of the woman beside him, they looked adorable, adorable yet sickening. She smiled up at the blonde man who stood two heads taller than her already admirable height, granted with red stilettos on but she was a tall lady nevertheless.

"Bonjour, shall I take a photograph for you two?A lovely pair!" I hear Abby's voice from a distance. I smile to myself, after Corrine, my elder sister left for Amsterdam, Abby took over. Her acting isn't the best, it actually was quite obvious in my eyes thus it amazes me how these tourists fall for the cute brunette Parisian school girl act all the time. They seriously take being naive to a whole new level.

Not wasting any time, I make my way over to The Pont des Arts, or what visitors would refer to as the love lock bridge. It's comical how easily seduced they are by the river and the thought that forever exists in keys they throw away by the side of their partners.

I continue walking as I stare at my worn out Loui Vuitton boots, stolen of course. Stolen four years ago from a pleasant English woman who decided to go for a dip in the river with her then boyfriend, I say then because a week later, they handsome young French guy came back to toss yet another key into the Seine with a different woman. The next week, he did so again and all the weeks after.

However, I haven't had the pleasure of a chance encounter with him, he always came strolling slowly onto the bridge and making his lady friends giggle yet left them alone as though he never met them.

"Could you take one more please? One with us kissing if it's alright. I'd like to use it as our Christmas card photo," the woman with red stilettos on requested. I swiftly look up from my boots to see Abby smiling and nodding her head happily. At least she pretended to be.

Knowing it's my cue, I took out my iPhone and switched the path I was walking in closer to the where the couple was standing, getting ready to pose with the river and love locks as their background.

"Oh mon Dieu! I'm so sorry, je suis vraiment désolé, je ne vous ai pas vu la-bas. I really had not seen you!" I cry out with the purest tone I could convey in as I stand up from the ground where the three of us, the tourist and I were sat as I 'accidentally' crashed into them whilst staring on my iPhone. The snow was slippery so it was no wonder I lost my footing.

"Not to worry dear, it's quite alright" The man says, giving a tight smile whilst the woman checked if I was alright and for a fraction of time, I felt bad stealing from them as they appeared to be genuinely good people however, a girl's got to do what a girl's got to do.

Hastily, I distanced myself away from the area where the couple and Abby were still taking photos and smiled down at my pockets. What a day it's been and we should very much call it one after victimizing around six couples already.

The sun is starting to go lover and the breeze is just right, oh how I love winter!

After five minutes of waiting for Abby in the bench which served as our designated meeting spot for years now, she arrives with a knowing smile after biding goodbyes to the people she previously took photographs of.

"So what's today's catch?" She asks and laughs lightly, leaning back to the bark of the tree behind the bench.

I let out a laugh as well before reaching into the pockets of my coat.

"Three purses, four wallets, accessories from abroad that we could probably sell for good fortune, a mobile device and dog biscuits."

"Well, it's a good day! We should probably head home now. Papa might be worried, it ain't the safest job in town, Sis," Abby says.

"Here, put them in your bag and take them home won't you. I feel like taking a stroll for a bit," I reply as I empty out my pockets into my sisters leather bag.

Our life wasn't always like this, it never had to be but one day, it just happened. We were a comfortable family but after mama left and corrine followed, we all just sort of had no other choice considering how fast the business and everything else started dropping in the charts.

From a diamond family, we became one forgotten by society but there are some benefits of course. Thankfully, there no longer is a need for us to attend useless and boring balls, tea parties and occasions or events that only claim to raise funds for charity yet does the complete opposite.

With Corrine gone, Jackson was the head of the family or the sibling clan followed by me, corrine, tonnete and our little Pedro. Then there's papa.

My thoughts linger on about the mistakes he made, the hardships and sacrifices but I never seem to understand why he did what he did. If only I could ask but god knows how hard it is to strike up a conversation regarding this topic with him.

"Oh look darling, see, the Seine is beauuuuutiful! Magnificente! Oh mama Mia," a high pitch voice echoes on the bridge. Turning around, my gaze settles on a woman who most probably was at my mum's age dressed in cashmere woo from head to toe. Glittering diamond necklaces that resembled glass pieces dangled from her neck where an exotic scarf also made her stood out more. Her gloves were a black and white pattern and her arms were filled with bangles. She continued talking to her poodle that she was carrying while several maid held out umbrellas for her.

There was no need of any sort of confirmation, this woman was filthy rich.

Although I'm done with the day, a little more pickpocketing wouldn't hurt, I thought to myself.

So I did what I did best, walk cluesslesly and unknowingly collide.

"I'm sorry ma'am, so sorry!"

The exchangment of apologies went on until a deep voice cut in,"What's going on here?"

Looking for the source of that voice, I'm met with the steel blue eyes of mister many woman. The man who came by with a different woman each week. However, I did not spot a woman by his arm, this is odd. He couldn't have come with Madam Filthy Rich!?

"It's nothing son, this young lady just---" Ah, so he's her son. But why did she stop speaking?

"AMELIA?! Is it really you?" Madam Filthy Rich exclaims with her eyes as wide as saucers and mouth hanging open. And that is when I recognize Mrs. Jaspers, a close friend of my mother. A friend from when my family and I were still among Paris's upper class.

I run. I was too ashamed of who I am. I didn't need a reminder of who I used to be and it'll be very soon when she realizes I've stolen from her.

I didn't make it far as my legs were no Usian Bolt. This would probably be the end of me.

I am pushed against a alleyway wall by Mister Many Woman and as he reaches down into my coat pocket to retrieve his mother's diamonds, purse and mirror, I knew for sure, I'm screwed.

Refusing to look into his piercing eyes, I instead look straight ahead and unfortunately for me, my height made sure that my straight ahead would be a certain someone's very hard chest.

His deep, dangerously low and weirdly familiar voice then whispers," Pickpocketing huh? You think you're the only what with such skill. I know one when I see one."

Confused, I gaze up at him.

"It's been long, Amelia."

December 06, 2019 11:33

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Nurul Aziz
23:19 Dec 11, 2019

Great plot! My heart was racing at the end. Great job at making your readers eager to know what's next~


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Annie Percik
21:43 Dec 11, 2019

Amelia's voice is very strong and distinctive and I like the way you blend background information into her narration of the story. There's a lot of great descriptive detail here, too. There are also quite a lot of typos and punctuation/grammatical errors, which would be easy to fix with more careful editing. It's a shame they detract from the generally good quality of the writing.


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