Thieves: Chapter 8

Submitted by Elizabeth Anne on Sun, 06/17/2012 - 20:28

Jovlin was so angry at The Mask that she forgot about an obvious fact that hindered her exit. The way she had come was only an entrance; she would never be able to climb out that way. She sat for a while on the pile of pillows, waiting until she was sure The Mask must be gone before she stepped back towards the room. She cautiously entered, trying to avoid any confrontation with The Mask. Seeing that the room was empty, Jovlin headed towards the back of the room. She found the exit, but turned around before leaving. Jovlin considered taking some books with her. After all, The Mask wasn’t likely to notice one or two stories missing. Then, she shook her head and turned back towards the door which she assumed was a way out. Through the door there was a set of stairs, which Jovlin immediately began to climb. The steps wound and curled up the walls around her, like a vine reaching for the open sky, or a dragon hunting its prey. They kept going up, higher and higher, until Jovlin was certain that there must be an exit somewhere nearby that she had missed. Jovlin began to walk down the steps, then changed her mind and kept climbing. She began to grow dizzy the higher she climbed. She figured that she must have walked for several hours by this point, not including the several breaks which she had taken. Finally, she saw an end to the stairs. They led up to… nothing. There was only solid stone above her. Jovlin decided that it must be another hidden door, and started to push the ceiling up. She was correct in her assumption and it quickly slid away, leaving her blinded by sudden brilliant light. She covered her eyes with her hand, shielding her face from the brilliant light. As her eyes adjusted, Jovlin was astounded by the brilliancy of her surroundings. She gasped at the many different colors of brilliant sunlight that bounced gently off of the multi-colored stones that made up the walls of the room around her. More light poured in from a window carved low into the wall, which was the only way Jovlin could determine that the source was the sun. Slowly, Jovlin walked towards the window, her fingers brushing the stone as she seemed to float through the air. Her feet bounced on the solid stone floor, cold and smooth. Her eyes bounced from wall to wall of the circular room, noting every detail; every nook, every cranny, and the lack of any door. While the thought that there was no exit might have startled her for a second, that second was gone as soon as she looked through the window. Jovlin gripped the windowsill tightly as she looked down from a dizzying height. Above her, all that could be seen was deep blue sky and the brilliant sun. Below her, there was nothing- absolutely nothing. Nothing, that is, except pieces of white fluffy clouds. It looked as though a painter had taken the blue sky and thrown white pieces of cloth across it, urging them to fly. They were urging her to fly.

Author's age when written


I like the way this chapter ends. The Mask still has the coolest house ever.

I have hated the words and I have loved them, and I hope I have made them right. --The Book Thief