WRITING: A Little Old Woman 👩

This is a story about a little old woman, my Grandmother. Her name is Agatha, born and raised in Venezuela, and has a deep secret to share. There is more to her frail body, lined with wrinkles and dimples, those dark lips and pale eyes than what it seems. My dear old Grandmother Agatha took part in one of Spain's biggest heists.

The story has been told hundreds of times, to curious grandchildren or sons after bath time, and it never gets old. Agatha was twenty-one years old when she and her friend Martina robbed a bank in Chile, while on vacation with their families. 

They got $40,000 worth of gold from a vault, and escaped via bike. From there they boarded an air plane with their unsuspecting families and flew back to Venezuela; fourteen bricks of solid gold in their carry-on luggage and sly grins on their faces throughout the flight.

To this day Martina and Agatha have never been caught, and rumour in my family has it that the gold is buried in their backyard. Asides from this rare story, often told by Agatha late at night, there is little to no evidence of this crime.