Bad People, Good Things

Some people say that you are either good or bad; that you can’t be anything else. Those people don’t believe in gray areas, they don’t like what they can’t understand or fit into a box or under a label. But others believe that people can do both good and bad things. That one person can be a shade of gray that consists of good actions/intentions as well as bad actions/intentions. Before yesterday I was the former. I only thought that I could be bad; that all changed April 3rd 1999. My friends and I had been planning a bank robbery for a couple of months and we had planned it all out.

We all needed the money for different reasons. Rick needed money for this huge bill that, if gone unpaid, the bank would take his house and everything with it. Joel needed tagged along because he was behind on his child support. Me, Aaron, I needed the money because my baby girl was about to be brought into the world and I couldn’t afford to get her anything; not even the basics like diapers. We all needed money and had certain skills that would help pull off a successful heist. Rick could handle a gun no problem so he was in charge of the hostages; Joel was an expert at lock-picking so he could get into the safe deposit boxes without a doubt; and me, you’d be looking at the bagger. Any money Joel brought out I would put in big duffel bags and put them in the truck.

To us it seemed like a flawless plan. We waited until the sky was dark and the bank employees were starting to pack up for the night; this way there would be no customers and just the employees, limiting the number of hostages to handle. Night also provided us with a cover; we were able to wear all black so it was hard to spot us, even with the street lights. We didn’t think of getting a getaway driver because it seemed to full-proof.

Rick waited until he was sure there were only a handful of people left inside and then went in as quietly as possible. He acted like a customer, begging them to help him. When they agreed, he pulled the gun on them, not giving them enough time to hit the silent alarm. I saw him nod for us to enter and I followed Joel inside the bank.

It was a pretty small bank but we knew there was a lot of money in the vault and safety boxes. I followed Rick around behind the counter and started emptying the drawers, being careful not to get the dye-pack or set off the alarm. After about five minutes I heard Rick yelling his head off at one of the hostages. I left the bag on the counter and walked up to him.

“It’s all your fault! This whole thing is your fault you son of a bitch! You think you can take my house! Hmmm? Everything I’ve worked for?” He was yelling. I looked at the bank of the room where Joel had disappeared to but there was no sign of him.

“I’m sorry sir. I don’t know what you’re talking about” The man said simply. Clearly having a raving gunman in front of him didn’t bother him, but it bothered me.

“Stop lying to me!” Rick screamed and aimed the gun right at the man’s head, that’s when I stepped in front of him. His face was red from screaming as I could see tears forming in his eyes.

“Rick, calm down” I stated gently. However, right after I said it I regretted it. You see, you never tell Rick to calm down; it just gets him more riled up.

“Calm down?” He asked rather calmly but I knew what was coming. I pushed the gun quickly to the let just as he pulled the trigger. The sound shot out loudly. It seemed to have stunned Rick a little so I took the opportunity to grab the gun from his hand and flick it across the room away from everyone. That’s when I heard a noise behind me and turned around. Joel had come out from the back and now had the gun in his hands. He looked at the group of us. Rick with his face still beet red and breathing heavily; Me with a worried looked; and the four bank employees, including the man, who just looked plain scared.

“I think it’s time we left” Was all he said. I nodded and grabbed the bag from behind the counter but not before I “accidentally” hit the silent alarm. Walking out I nodded to the man who smiled back and mouthed “thank you”. Smiling, I climbed back into the truck and we drove away.

You see, I could have let Rick shoot that man. A man who probably had nothing to do with his current situation but I could have let him shoot him; knowing that he would regret it and it would haunt him for the rest of his life. But I didn’t. I saved that man’s life when I could have simply looked the other way; something I honestly think Joel would have let happen considering his speedy entrance into the room.

Yes, I may have robbed that bank but when an innocent life was in danger I tried to save it, and I succeed. So, if you’re one of those people who think that you can only be good or bad, I just want you to think about what happened to me. People can be whatever they want to be; good, bad or a shade of gray.

The Play Writer

It was 1594 London, England. It was the opening night of William Shakespeare's newest masterpiece, A Midsummer Night's Dream. From what I gathered about rumors around London was that it definitely was a comedy and that there were fairies included somewhere within it. From what my father's friends have said the writing will surely make us laugh. With this in mind I hold this play, along with any future plays written by Shakespeare to be top notch.

I have gone with my father to many of his plays and enjoyed them so I'm rather excited to get to meet him in person this time around. One of my passions is playwriting, I try to learn from his scripts to improve my ability to write comedies and tragedies. I'm mostly interested in tragedies; making people feel all of the feelings associated with a horrible and maybe try to find a way to bridge the two; to make a tragedy that is also a comedy. So far though, I have had no luck.

The play opened today and I was starting to get nervous. Not just because I was meeting SHAKESPEARE but because of the way everyone always treats me. Everyone always assumes I'm a prostitute, I guess because there aren't a lot of women in that side of the city and the few that are, well are prostitutes. I try not to judge people and their way of life but when so many people assume it about me after denying it numerous times, it gets a little annoying and offensive.

Plays in London usually happen during the evenings but this play was special, or at least that's what Shakespeare had claimed. Therefore had demanded that it be performed at night. When the only lighting is by lanterns hanging from the walls and around the stage. The way the lights shone across the theater set the mood very nicely, creating a warm and comfortable environment. All of his plays sold out and 100% of the people came; there were never any empty seats or seats that had not been sold, or so my father has told me. This night was incredibly full.

Me and my father had the luxury of sitting on one of the many balconies that surrounded the stage; we sat directly in the middle of the stage so we could see everything that happened. My father, if you don't know, owns the theater at which all of Shakespeare's plays are performed, that's how we get amazing seats.

When the plays started it was pretty dark out. The stars shone in the night sky as the actors performed their lines; they were a fabulous job. Although I always did find it strange that men were playing the women roles and not women; and it was hard to picture a beautiful women character in his place, as I often tried to do in order to get the full effect of the plot of the play.

When the play was finished I stood and clapped like everyone else in the theater; the play had been marvelous. Now I was getting anxious about meeting William Shakespeare. My palms were sweating as I walked next to my father through the crowd, trying desperately not to get lost. All the way to the back of the stage I heard men whistling and yelling at me; of course I ignored them and kept on walking.

By the time we reached backstage most of audience had left and the theater was filled with silence. I had never been here when everyone was gone, it was somehow peaceful but a little unnerving at the same time. I looked forwards when my father called my name. Then I saw him; William Shakespeare.

I walked up to him, trying to keep my composure, and shook his hand. We exchanged niceties and got to chatting about the play and playwriting in general. I remember asking him about the process he used when writing the different genres; comedy, tragedy, and historical. He answered each one of my questions about writing and descriptive writing and character development.

When it was time for me to leave I stood from the chair I had been sitting in and we said out goodbyes but not before he said that he would like to read one of my scripts. I stood there, at The Theater, standing in front of William Shakespeare who had just asked me if he could read my work. I, of course, said yes, shook his hand and left with my father.

Meeting William Shakespeare that night and listening to his advice on, well, everything to do with writing, gave me new inspiration to try again at writing a combination of comedy and tragedy.