It was as if the molecules were bridging; atoms webbed. A shooting star elevated the net. The whole street rose to the Gods, with faces from stage shows: Das Rheingold; Eugene Onegin; Don Giovanni; Lohengrin; every star speaking.
Treasure to gather and treasure to bury! It is called the grail. But proceed, oh tell me, of this dark adventure. Life’s sweetness is known to me, I am beset by visions. A gleaming temple whose like for splendour is unknown on earth. My prophetic vision to enlighten you!
The forms were familiar yet not. Ministers; a revolutionary; a spy; official papers; dollar bills and books, another fob watch. Ignacz saw his mark.
Ignacz straightened his walk that the stranger would draw near. Justice in sharing fits us brothers… Stars be thanked, the coast is clear!
Mid-forties, spectacles, a chain draped over his scarlet waistcoat, groomed in velveteen and suspicion. The celestial field seemed to gather around them both. How quickly drew the dragon to the dwarf so dread. Only you and he has plans on the gold!
Ignacz nodded: put the nobleman, feebler than his years, at ease. (What a secret the hero must conceal. Leporello, servant of that dishonourable villan!)
He struck the glasses from the old man’s head, tugged on the chain dislodging watch and wallet from his pocket. The victim swung. Barely a fist made Ignacz’s ear, already he rolled to the cash on the pavement. Hold not the gold back! Grabbing coat buttons the teenager railed back into his opponent’s chest, shoved him from the fight, down, buckled into hedgerow. He who is chosen to serve the Grail it arms with supernatural might! Ignacz reached for the purse, flipped it, and the fob watch away, and ran. He who guards the ring…one ring to rule them all! That’s how the wanderer wears it when against the wind he must go.
Luminous spheres curled at his cape. And ahead, parallel lights like the Metro’s tunnel going to Mexikoi Street, Northern Terminus. In his pocket, his fob watch ticket jumped and heart beat faster. That dizzying constellation took on a new collusion of such familiars as illusion. A shrill whistle blasted the night quiet with calls for tolvaj (thief) to halt.
Ignacz burned into a sprint. The lights were going out behind two police officers. An adjoining street, and they pursued him there too. He was too big for this, to be caught in a police cage, to give them name, rank and lineage.
I would now with speed be gone. What a terrible light in his eyes! Who are you then to say that I can’t go on? Run Forrest, Run!
Ignacz The Watch Thief is serialised five days a week. To donate go to patreon.com/andyluke and access four advance chapters, commentaries and bonus art.