To Remain Unseen

1

Like spider silk vibrating in the wind, her steps were silent, each foot carefully settled against the tiled floor so as to not make a single sound. For moments that felt like eternity she had been dancing this soundless tango of steps, inching ever forward with a calm persistence. Beyond was her goal, shining like a beacon of all that was Holy and wonderful in the world. But also beyond was the guard dog, his giant black muzzle buried between his two front paws as he lightly slumbered.2

Liz was an accomplished thief though, experienced in hundreds of small snatches and little trophies. She knew how to spot trouble from yards away, and how to easily predict the movement of guards. This shadowed life had been her choosing from a young age, the risks weighed carefully against the projected gain, and the challenge like the very lifeblood that flowed through her. She had encountered the fierce guard dog many times before, and knew from past experience how even a muffled bark could bring the guards rushing in. Those had been times she had needed to flee for her life, to dart back down darkened halls, sometimes with the same silence she arrived with and other times abandoning all caution to the wind with a rush of adrenaline. Warily she eyed the spider nesting in the corner of the door before her, its beady little eyes staring at her, and she wondered briefly if the little thing might be some sort of camera.3

She edged in through the door anyway, her bare feet sliding smoothly across the tile like it was ice. Resting on a shelf before her was her prize, hidden beneath a dome of protective silver. She could smell victory, a tangy sweet taste that ran down the back of her throat like ambrosia poured from high. Her anticipation ran high, the hair on the back of her neck rising with every bad scenario that her mind could come up with. The guard dog slumbered on. Somewhere close by a clock ticked, its steady pace a reminder that the guards were not stationary in their rounds.4

And then she was before it, her dagger drawn for safety and the silver lid lifting. Beneath it came the shine of golden yellow, pearly white and sapphire blue, glimmering in the dim light from the clock. The silver lid made a gentle noise as it settled on the shelf, and Liz glanced back at the guard dog to see if he had awoken, hands loose and ready should she need to flee. She could almost hear his deep bark in her ears, her imagination and reality at odds as she waited for this usually reliable alarm system to spring awake. The old mutt gave a tired huff and rolled over onto its back.5

Liz brought her dagger forward, carefully scooping the treasure onto a disk sitting beside the silver dome. Beneath the initial illusion of riches was even more delight, the dark glistening of onyx broken only by more translucent white. She smiled wickedly, and with that replaced the cover, settling everything back into its proper place. It looked as though nothing had been disturbed, the silver cover hiding the portion of riches Liz had so generously helped herself to. She gave her dagger a careful lick for good luck, and then carefully backtracked for safety, treasure in hand.6

Ms. Malone, Elizabeth's mother, wouldn't ever know a piece of her chocolate cake was missing until supper time. Mattie, their twelve year-old Rottweiler, slumbered on.7