Class work example 2

CRIMES AND MISDEMEANOURSWrite a 500-word story about a crime (or misdemeanour), totally from the perspective of the criminal/perpetrator. Then write a 500-word story of the same event, from the victim's point of view. It shouldn't be a simple 'repeat' -- there should be new and powerful insights we gain from the second version of events.


Version 1:
Almost pissed my pants when I realised there was someone there. Fucking terrified. There’s no feeling like it. I’m a superhero – hearing magnified a thousand times. I swear I could’ve heard my own hair growing, it was that quiet. If I had any, of course.

I’d already had a good look around and there was plenty of good steals. Big stuff to come back for later, but things that fit in your pocket too. Nice little shiny things to sell on easy. Everything’s smaller nowadays. Flat little phones and ipods, ipads. icats and dogs and ichildren’ll be next. Hundred quid a pop, job done. They had a massive telly too – bit big for the room, if you ask me. But then I’m no interior designer. Helped a few people out with removals over the years though, if you know what I mean.

So I was in their living room, sussing out the PSP and slipping a pile of computer games into my rucksack when I heard it. Just a squeak, not something just anyone could’ve picked up. But that’s one of my talents. See, people think it’s just raping and pillaging, but there’s skill involved too. Not just anyone can do break-ins and not get caught. Maybe she rolled over in the bed, or maybe he was pushing off the duvet. Either way I had to make a quick-sharp decision, and the haul was too good to overlook.

I thought I’d take my chances. Stopped for a minute, heart pumping a million break-beats till I was struggling to hear anything else. Cold sweats, clammy hands, but on top of that great big bloody shot of adrenaline. Once the house was definitely still again I carried on filling up the bag. Piles of games, dvds, cds and pocket-sized mp3s; an Aladdin’s cave of electronics and trinkets. It’s funny being in someone’s house uninvited. The room looks homely, the sofa practically begging me to have a quick sit down. Pictures on the walls to show off to all their friends, but only lets me know how rich and posh they are. Holidays on a boat, elephants on safari. I’m Robin Hood, me. Their stupid sons in stupid hats and mini-me ties. Should be outlawed. What’s wrong with a Man U shirt? Kids should be kids, that’s what I think. And our Jack would’ve killed for that Xbox Kinect.

I was just clearing the sideboard – load of silverware, ugly but might be worth summat – when the noise started up again. So close to finishing I didn’t stop this time, until I heard the footsteps on the stairs. Heavy, not cautious like most of the time. I’ve been caught before. I said it’s skill, but there’s luck involved too. Most people are too pussy and hang around till all they see is the back of you leggin’ it down the road. Usually with a sack full of their bling. This guy didn’t give me time to make a run for it. I should’ve checked the photos on the wall more carefully, now there’s a wedding photo in front of me and he’s a rugby toff type. And either his wife’s a midget or he’s fucking stacked. Maybe my luck’s running out.

Version 2:
It’s not the Things that bother me. It’s the principle, the cheek that someone can just walk into my home and take what isn’t theirs. What if I hadn’t been there? I shudder to think that Miriam and the kids would have slept right through. Or worse. If Adam or Jake had got up to use the loo, or for a glass of water. What would he have done then? Since the boys were born I don’t think I’m ever fully asleep, I spend nights in a half-slumber just in case one of them calls out. That’s probably why I woke up, but I don’t remember hearing a noise. I just got a feeling that something wasn’t right. I started to fall back asleep, but then the cabinet in the lounge opened with a distinctive glass tinkle.

Something took over and I sprang out of bed in a second, without even thinking. Miriam stayed asleep, barely stirring, and I made my way down the stairs. Passing the coat rack I fumbled for a golf club standing upright underneath. I’d be lying if I hadn’t said I’d thought about this before. It might be old-fashioned but I feel my role is as protector. I am the man of the house, and even if there’s no more hunting and gathering I’d fight with every last fibre to keep them safe. I’d known the golf club was there, and my plan had always been this. Clutching it tight in both hands I pushed open the door. My eyes had adjusted to the dark, but I was momentarily thrown by the pin-prick torch positioned above the tv cabinet, casting a spotlight onto my wedding photo. This only displaced my apprehension with out-and-out rage. How dare this man, this scum, thrust himself into my life. To stamp over my sons’ toys, to empty out drawers of personal letters – birthday wishes and sympathy notes strewn across the carpet. He looked at me for a split second as though it were me who didn’t belong. I quickly surveyed him, noting he was about my age and just as stocky as me, but shorter and hunched. In short, I could definitely take him. ‘Get out’ I told him, through gritted teeth. He went to move forward, whether it was towards me or towards the door I really couldn’t have told you but I panicked all the same. Raising the club over my head I took a swing, as though he were an enormous golf ball, and felt the connection with a thud right up to my shoulder blades. There were screams, by this point Miriam was awake so it may have been her. It might have been him screaming, but I don’t know if he was able. Or the screams might have been me.