This here is the tale of a interesting occurance including a fortune & me, a young poor boy, knowingly acting stupid to strike.
I live in a rural area in the depths of Austria, however, I am very well informed of urban areas, this is because my father was & remains to be a tradesman, driving from point 'a' to 'b' delivering produce but making sure the government doesn't 'c' his actions so that he doesn't recieve a lifetime sentence, I mean... there won't be anyone to bail him out.
To set the scene I must tell you briefly about me; I am a 14 year old soon-to-be tradesman, yes, I am following my fathers footsteps. I may be a child in reality, despite society labeling me as one... I truly lust to be an adult, and so I think I am. In addition I'm Dutch for that matter.
I am not your usual wannabe, I actually have a plan for when I roam freely within my entrepreneur state. In these recession's it's dificult to filter out the strong from the weak, business wise. This is why I am here; I am the Hydrogen to H20! I am the fuel for the vechile! I am the clock for the timer! I am the...!
Someone interupted me, it was my father, he didn't seem too pleased as his eyes were bloodshot & his face unrelaxed. As I was about to question him he unfolded a paper saying "Kijk maar, hier zijn ons problemen!" I took the letter of his hands, A tear fell down my cheek... "Maar ze mogen niet, of wel?" I never knew Austrian government personel could be so non-empathising! My father is only attempting to earn a living and the majority of people are pleased of such, however, the stronger force is pulling him and the ultimate lifestyle apart.
After a series of letters we recieved & ignored, this was the end-of-the-line, this one seemed to be serious... from my understanding there were images attached to the note. I didn't get the chance to analyse the message portrayed within the note however I could imply from my fathers obvious emotions that it wasn't too positive. I kept trying and trying to speak to my father about this unexpected event which occured earlier in the day, yet he kept on replying with; "niks..." translating into: "nothing..."
I've been on dad's case the whole day... it's 11pm and I just can't handle the curiousity that lays within my nerve-wrecked soul. I stay awake, just staring at my roof... Until...
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I heard a loud "Bang" on the door, then a crack... Our door was wooden by the way, Emphasis on the 'was.'
Someone stepped in I could hear the croaks of our wooden floorboards, It sounded much amplified than usual, this person must've been a very heavy fellow.