Boxed in – Creative writing Essay

A floorboard creaked; I rushed behind the coved of a nearby wooden box, my revolver in hand. In my heart I really hoped I would not have to use my gun, which, was one thing that I really I hated doing. The half moon shone brightly through the shattered window, casting the shadow of the box onto the dark bare floor. I shivered nervously in the sharp eerie cold; hairs prickled the back of my neck. I knew that if I moved I would give my hiding place away. I held my breath and waited. The door opened slightly until I could see a chink of light through the hinge; suddenly it opened fully, revealing a large beefy man.

I noticed how he carefully trod across the old creaky floorboards of this derelict tower block in which we were. I was still holding my breath knowing that any sound that I made may give my position away. I knew that being curled up in a ball, hiding in a very cramped position was not the best way to keep still but I had to try. I didn’t know who this man was or what he could do to me, but from the look of him it looked as if he could do me a lot of harm. My fear was growing rapidly as the man started to walk towards the box and my hiding place. I once again held my breath and hoped and prayed that I would not be found.

Out of the blue he span around and moved off toward the window I guessed that he must have heard something because he immediately turned and began to walk out of the room. As the man turned the moonlight illuminated his old craggy face, all of a sudden I realized that I recognised this man, he was old Bill Cragly a notorious thief and kidnaper of Chicago city. The door closed behind him and I waited a few minutes before I got up and crawled out of my hiding place into the large room that was empty of furniture except for the wooden box and a large beech chest of draws.

I carefully made my way over to the chest of draws. As I got over to the other side of the room the moon disappeared behind the cover of a large silvery moon. The only light entering the room was the light of streetlamps, five stories below. I prised my gun out of my hot, sticky, sweaty hand and rested it down on the floor whilst I reached into my pocket and pulled out a strong flashlight and switched it on. The light illuminated the whole room and was a comfort to me. Slowly I started to search through the draws of the very old chest of draws for any clue as to what Bill was looking for, I found nothing.

I glanced around the room for any other clues and my eyes fell to rest on the wooden box that had been my sanctuary. Slowly I walked over to the box. As I reached it I took a minute to take a closer look at it. I hadn’t noticed before but the box didn’t seem to have an opening. I once again searched the whole box for some sort of secret latch to open it. After a few long minuets I struck upon a secret button, I pressed it and slowly the box lid opened… I heard the footsteps returning, I grabbed my torch and dashed behind the cover of the box and just managed to close the box lid before the door flew open.

To my surprise no-one entered, I was just about to get up when I thought, NO this is a trick, they want me to come out, Bill knows that I’m here, how?. Suddenly realized that I had left my gun in the middle of the floor, if anyone walked in they would fall flat on their face, but maybe, I thought, that could be my chance to get away. Out of the blue small boy walked into the room. I immediately recognised him as Alex, the small boy who had been kidnapped a week or so earlier. I knew that I’d find him here, I had told them, I had to get a hold of Alex, I couldn’t let him slip through my fingers now.

After all his parents were paying me to find him, I couldn’t let them down. I knew that this could be my only chance to get him alive, knowing Bill’s history of kidnaps. I was pondering over weather to grab him or not, when Alex tripped on my gun and began to fall, his head aiming for the corner of the box. My instincts took over me. I rushed out from my hiding place to try and catch him before he hit his head. As soon as I rushed out, I heard that evil laugh that makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. I had crossed Bill Cragly two times previously and let me tell you they were not pleasant experiences.

He strode into the room like he owned the place. He told me that he had had enough of my interfering in his business and messing his plans up, so I was not going to try bit again. With that he produced a can of petrol and doused the whole room in it. Alex and I sat, stunned, and too scared to move. Bill gave another evil match and shut the door, locking it behind him. We heard him light a fuse or something some way along the corridor. I panickc xed, we had to escape. The only way out was through the window, but we were five stories up.

I knew it would be our only chance to escape in a few seconds the whole room would blow up. I grabbed Alex and told him not to let go of my hand. We ran to the window and jumped, just in time because a second later the room was ablaze. I felt the cold air rush past me. We were falling fast, within seconds we hit the cold hard pavement of the deserted street below. After what seemed like hours I glanced over at Alex, he was unconscious or , dare I think it, dead. I could feel what felt like heavy weights on my eyelids, all I could think about was sleep, sleep, sleep. Then everything went black…