Midnight Theft

The clock struck twelve, slowly chiming midnight.

With every chime of the clock, they took another step, the sound of their movement covered by the ringing of the bells. Presumably the owner of the house was asleep, but better safe than sorry.

The large box that contained their target stood in the corner of the darkened room. But the bells were over, the floor hardwood.

The wind picked up outside, gently tapping a tree branch against a window. Every tap, a footstep.

Finally, they reached their goal. They opened the fridge, only to find Mother had eaten all the chocolate.