As his gaze was greedily fixed thereupon, he attempted opening the strongbox before him utilizing a craftily made tool only a smart snake-like thief could produce. It was a simple device he manufactured ably assisting him in thievery: it could be used on locks of doors, as well as those of strongboxes. He was remembering how he learned such tricks from...
“What is that?!?!?” he quickly thought while his heart rate augmented.
His hearing was now one of the perceptions most at attention, as he moved his eyesight to scan for the origin of the sound. The nocturnal part of day made it darker and eerier as one could notice shadows throughout the whole house. Shadows forcing irrational emotions of fear upon him. He continued scanning his surroundings as
“Arrrgh, what is this!?!? Please, no!” AN UNIDENTIFIED BEING MOVED ACROSS HIS LEGS.
His tool of thievery fell to the ground and made an iron-like sound. His irrational fear was almost totally in control, as he slowly went on his knees to seek his lost equipment. How could he locate it quickly without losing precious time? He moved his hands across the floor hoping to feel it, but as he did so his left hand sent a weird signal to his brain which could not comprehend what it read at the moment. “!!!”
The thing approached and went closer to his head, finally touching his head! It was... “Thank my Lord,” a cat. It made a sound. “There there, little one,” as he picked up the creature to pet it. The cat suddenly leapt upon the sound of something near the door and ran.
“The owner! I must remove myself from sight! Where finds itself my thievery tool? Quick!” as he sought but did not find it. He had no choice but to seek cover as he heard a person struggling to open the door. In his haste he found himself a dark corner wherein avoidance had the most chance of success. He held himself quiet and sought support to stabilize his kneeling stance and found it in a piece of cloth attached to the wall and a pot in juxtaposition.
Crack crack, wiggle wiggle, scrape scrape, as the lock was being used. In the dark he was unable to see it but he certainly felt a tickling sensation of sweat moving across his forehead down to his face and even to his neck.
“Aggh, blasted door,” an unknown voice uttered. “Open!”
The voice was heavily sounding and he realized that if avoidance would be ruined the encounter could prove difficult for the person might be of grand physical stature -– not carrying any weapon only decreased fighting chances. Unless of course he would find his tool.
Cachuk! Screeeeeee.... The door opened bringing forth a squeeky sound that would ably penetrate mind, flesh, and bone. In the darkness the man's face could not be well seen nor could his stature be. The figure approached a candle to set alight. He moved the candle, resting upon a poor-looking little plate, towards his face.
We vaguely see a face that has witnessed much horror. A face that has seen and experienced much pain and suffering. A face hardly emitting any sign of liveliness. Scars, and dryness, it was a sight not so beautiful. The figure slowly moved towards the table near him and seated himself upon the stool with his back towards us.
“Hmm, hrmmm,” the man uttered with slight agitation.
“I hope he doesn't notice me. What should I do now?” as the thief moved his foot against the pot whereafter it fell over only to produce a sound so recognizable and betraying of his position his embodiment was in schock!
“No!! What have I done?!?! Not now!!!!” as his heart suddenly commenced beating even faster than it did before.
Strangely enough, the man who appeared to live here did not respond, as he remained seated and did not even show a sign of recognition. He maintained his lament, how simple it may be, and kept gazing in front of him.
“Why did he not notice the sound?” the thief wondered.
“Does he perhaps not have the ability to hear? Maybe if I... yes, yes.”
He thought the man deaf but to be truly certain he would have to test it. Keeping his eyes aimed at him, he picked up a potsherd and flinged it towards the ground behind the figure.
“Amazing: he doesn't hear it!”
He then grabbed another one and scraped it alongside the floor. No response.
“This is truly luck on my side today. I might seek and successfully find my thievery tool now. Then I must escape quietly.”
The man at the table was most likely not to move much. As long as the thief moved without being visually detected he was safe, for the man's hearing was disabled.
The thief sneakily snuck across the floor before him and felt around.
“Ah... do I detect my tool here?” as he touched a thing.
“Yes, that is it.”
He picked it up and now silently turned around while still finding himself in the crouching position, as he tried making his way to the back exit of the establishment. What a fortuitous occurrence he chose the back way as entrance before and not the front: the deaf man certainly would have become suspicious upon entering his home.
“Yes, yes, only a couple more steps,” as he went. He suddenly realized there was no need for crouching and maneuvering quietly: he was not to be audibly detected anyway and he was close-by already. Wait a minute:
“I could return and even continue my theft of the strongbox's contents.”
Therefore he made the decision. He finally rose to a stance looking strong and confident without fear. He was full of himself and proudly he turned his head and looked back at the man and...
“WHAT THE--!!!!!”
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