Harry’s envious million

The other night I found a folder saved on the shared area of my dad’s computer that I had completely forgotten about. The folder is called ‘Clare’s important stuff’, which contains a variety of things from my secondary school years, including poems, recipes I copied out of cook books in the school library and even work I completed for class. It was the folder containing school work which really interested me, as I found a story which I wrote, and I must admit, it’s a badly written story!

I laughed at my younger self, not maliciously though. I found it comical because it was not well written, such as the poor use of clichés and the not well articulated emotions of the characters. Since my secondary school years I’ve known that I will never pursue being a writer of short stories or fiction; this story definitely proves it! Even at university for my undergraduate degree when I had to write short stories for creative writing I didn’t enjoy it as much as writing poetry, and I find it difficult as well.

I have decided to leave the story as I found it the other night, so please excuse the grammatical errors and poor use of English. From what I remember, this story was written as an exercise for an English lesson. Be prepared for some evening cringe worthy entertainment! Here is the story of Harry’s envious million! *cues for dramatic music*


      “What does the letter say?”

Harry sat there crying in tears.

“Uncle John, Aunt Margaret has died in Venezuela. According to her will, I receive £1 million which is in my account. If I don’t spend it tomorrow, it goes to the Montevideo Llama Refuge.”

Uncle John took the letter and ran into to the kitchen to make tea. Harry was still crying in the lounge, confused in his mind. Harry then thought of something and skidded across to the kitchen.

“Uncle John. I don’t know if it’s selfish of me, but I hate llamas.”

Uncle John turned around with a teapot in his hand and stared at Harry.

His snare turned into a smile. “Of course not my boy.”

Harry looked at him confused, but he to smiled.

“Think about it Harry. Your Aunt loved you very much. I loved her to and I miss my darling wife very much. She went to Venezuela for a special conference whilst I stayed here in Surrey with you. She fell ill, but I couldn’t go over there to help her. It was very sad. The £1 million is to be spent by you how you wish. I’m sure Aunt Margaret would understand your dislike for llamas.”

Harry replied, “Yes, I want to give it to several charities.”

Uncle John wiped Harry’s tears with a cloth.

“Now, how about you go to the bank and withdraw the £1 million and we decide how the money will be spent.”

Harry stood there for a minute and then, he smiled with red rosy cheeks.

“Great idea! I’ll go now. I won’t be long.”

Harry ran out of the kitchen and grabbed his coat.

“Bye Uncle John!”

The front door slammed shut. Uncle John sat down on a stool by the kitchen table with a warm cup of tea.

“You can come out now!” he shouted.

At the other end of the kitchen, the attic door creaked open very slowly. A black figure slid across the floor to Uncle John.

“Ah, my servant. Now, you know what to do.”

“Yes Jonathon. I will be obedient to your command.”

“Good. Now go, lawful man of mine.”

The mysterious servant left and Uncle John had an evil smirk on his face.

“My plan is going to work after all. Harry was right; he won’t be long, long gone!” Uncle John sat there laughing, ripping up the will.


     “There you go. £1million pounds withdrawn. Please spend it wisely.”

“Thank you very much. I shall.”

Harry left the bank, excited with lots of wonderful ideas in his head.

“I am so looking forward to talking to my uncle. He’ll know what to do.”

Harry skipped back to Uncle John’s house and decided to take the quickest way back; through the graffiti littered alleyways.

“Why did I take this way? It’s good no gangs are down here.”

“Yes it is isn’t it?”

Harry stood there, frozen to the ground, his face as white as a ghost.

“Who’s there?”

Harry jumped and turned around, but no one was there.

“That’s strange. Maybe I was hearing things.”

Harry continued walking fairly quickly, and quite cautiously. Suddenly, a man wearing all black jumped out in front of Harry.

“Oh no. It’s one of the stalkers Uncle John told me about! I must run!”

Harry sprinted for his life through the smelly alley way. He could hear this mysterious man run after him. Harry ran as fast as his legs could take him. However, Harry ran so fast, he ended up at dead end.

“Oh no. A dead end! Now what am I going to do?”

Harry looked above him to see if he could find a way through.

“There you are, you brave soul. Do you think you could run away from me?”


     Harry turned around very slowly. The mysterious black clothed man was gripping onto a sharp kitchen knife in his right hand. There was a strange moment of silence as a plastic bag flew with the wind. Harry was looking closely at this strange man.

“It’s you. Solicitor Rodrigo. What the hell are you doing threatening me with a kitchen knife? And why are you wearing all black at 4pm in the afternoon when it’s still light?”

“B-because,” Rodrigo stuttered, “I-I-I.”

Harry examined Rodrigo. Rodrigo looked up at the flats high above him. Sweat was dripping from his forehead and he was shaking, struggling to keep hold of the knife.

“Rodrigo.” Harry said, “What is the matter? Tell me please!”

Rodrigo turned the knife towards his heart and held it with both his hands.

“Rodrigo!” Harry shouted. “What are you doing? Stop!”

But before Harry could shout anything else, Rodrigo stabbed the knife right into his chest, to the left of his heart.

“Rodrigo!” Harry screamed.

Rodrigo collapsed to the floor whilst looking up at the sky. Blood drained all over the concrete floor. Harry ran up to Rodrigo and turned him over carefully.

“I’m so sorry Harry,” whispered Rodrigo. “I must tell you the truth.”

Tear drops from Harry’s dark brown eyes fell onto Rodrigo’s cheek. He couldn’t speak.

“My parents hated me because I stole £2000. They chucked me out. Your Uncle John cared for me. I trained to be a solicitor and have done many things. However, it got to when your Uncle was short of money.”

Rodrigo started coughing and was struggling to breathe. Harry tried to stop the bleeding.

“He hired me to… to.”

“To what?” Harry asked, still crying.

“Your Uncle wanted the £1 million. The truth is… I…”


“I killed your Aunt.”

Rodrigo’s head slid to Harry’s shoulder. Rodrigo had painfully passed away. Harry decided to leave Rodrigo there and ran as fast as he could back to the bank.


     “I am so glad I put the £1 million back into my account,” sighed Harry, whilst sitting in his bed. “My uncle seems to be unsafe. I must return to my family in Leicester. It’s a long way, but it’s not safe to stay here with my Uncle John, especially after what I found out.”

Harry’s bags were downstairs at his front door.

“I don’t dare go back to my uncle. I’m glad I have my own house.”

Harry switched off his lamp and tried to fall asleep. His face had a complexion of fear.


     “Thank you for picking me up.”

Harry chucked his bags into a taxi and slid a small note under the mat in front of the door.

“Leicester, Leicester. Here I come.”

The taxi drove off through the housing estate on its way to the midlands, by a beautiful sunrise.

“Good afternoon. I would like to check Harry Chackerby’s account. I’m a family member.”

“Of course you can. There is £6000 in there.”

“WHAT!” shouted Uncle John.

“Didn’t you know about the will,” said the manager calmly. “At noon today, the £1 million pounds is sent to the Llama refuge if it wasn’t spent.”

“But, but, but. That’s impossible.”

“I’m sorry. That is what happened. Is there anything else you need to know?”

Uncle John ran out of the bank and sprinted across the streets to Harry’s house.

“I knew I couldn’t trust that solicitor. Where is he anyway?”

Uncle John eventually reached Harry’s front door and knocked as hard as he could. There was no answer. Uncle John looked through the windows but couldn’t see anyone.

“Maybe Harry is gone,” Uncle John thought.

Suddenly, a strong gust blew up the mat and Uncle John caught a piece of paper that flew in front of him.



Do not find me. I know what’s happened and what you wanted.

I’ve done what I thought was right. I’ll never trust you again.

P.S. Go to the alleyway and you’ll find Rodrigo.


Uncle John scrunched up the paper in his fist and ripped it up into millions of tiny pieces.

An empty taxi was randomly driving up the road. Uncle John stopped the taxi.

“Yes sir,” said the taxi driver.

“Leicester. Immediately!”


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