Imperfection (not KH)

Story I'm writing for NaNoWriMo. I have nearly 9'000 words done, out of 50'000.
~

One: Lock
I

A wad of a ten dollar bills was jammed in his pocket. It was all he had to live for. His existence, wrapped up in green leathery paper. He was dressed all in camouflage, as if to hide himself from anything, and everything. He waited outside the brick house. It depended on luck, something he didn't seem to have lately. Silence, save for the birds that were chirping in the trees. They were quieted as a man walked down the cracked walkway. He slipped something into the boy's hand, whispered something, and disappeared back into the house. The boy walked away.
Although his shoes stepped directly onto the fallen orange leaves below, there was no sound. And although the glowing sign before him said DON'T WALK, he walked. The cars stopped. They waited. They did not see him. They drove.

The book lay undisturbed atop the stone alcove. Beside it, Jay lay equally silent, sleeping through the cold early hours with a thick blanket covering his entirety. A bird landed just above him, and chirped. The quiet sound fell in tune with the sound of a heavy boot hitting the wood, reverberating down to under the bridge, where Jay lay sleeping, and bounced off into his ear. He sat up, covering his mouth as he gasped. Someone was above him, standing on the wooden bridge. From his hiding spot below it, Jay crept along the underside quietly, and out over the side. He peered over the top, and ducked quickly. There was a man standing there, garbed in a ten uniform, pacing to and fro across the bridge. A park ranger, inspecting the bridge. For years, people had said the bridge was dangerous and had been closed off nearly two decades ago. Now that nobody ever walked upon it, Jay had found it the perfect home for his newfound loneliness.
The ranger jotted a few things down on his memo pad, and walked off the bridge, back onto the trail again. Jay didn't come out until he heard the sound of the engine disappear entirely. Finally consent, he swung back under and open the book for a peek.



Under Lock & Key:
A Rogue's Guide to Thievery -revised-

Chapter One
It has been said for decades that the subject of thieving has been a secret art, one that has been passed down for generations. Hardly anyone knows of the true artistic form of stealing...

Jay flipped ahead a few pages, hastily looking for the right chapter.

Chapter Seven
Lockpicking
Picking locks has been a form of thievery since they were invented many years ago. It has allowed rogues to enter any house, unlock any secret, open any safe. Detailed instructions are as followed:
1. If you do not have any picking materials, equip yourself with a form of skinny metal, such as a paperclip or a safety pin. Bend it into the shape desired.

Jay scrambled for the pack of paperclips he had bought. He tore the package open, and attempted to bend one of the shiny metal clips into a twisted shape. It came out differently than expected, but the makeshift pick would do for now.

2. Insert your form into the lock of the desired location. And now the section that takes focus and determination. Examine the shape of the lock. If it is a older lock, with the original keyhole, then it will be slightly easier to pick than that of a more modern keyhole, although it depends on the mechanism inside. Explore the inside of the lock with your pick. For old locks, there is a simple center mechanism that can be disabled easily by lifting lightly with the pick. If it catches, then you have found the center mechanism, and may proceed by lifting it completely vertical.

Jay followed the instructions exactly, but only ended up with a broken paper clip. He grabbed another, and tried again. Focus and determination, He thought to himself. Five minutes later, he had a small pile of broken paper clips, and a disheveled mind. Now he was more lost than ever. He had been sure that this box contained exactly what he needed, nevermind what it was. And now he couldn't even pick a lousy lock.

He slammed the box into the metal siding furiously. Now there was really nothing else he could do. He wiped a droplet of sweat from his light brow, despite the icy cold that had taken the park. With a deep, collected sigh, he stuck the box back into its hiding place, and decided to grab a bite to eat, from the miniature icebox hidden along the nooks of the bridge's underside. But as he stood up, the book fell open to a page determined by fate, it seemed. Chapter Four: Marketside Stealing. Intrigued, he took a closer look. As it turned out, the icebox was empty anyway.

Step one: Find a suitable location...


(comments are appreciated.... thanks )