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English Creative Writing Assignment

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English Creative Writing Assignment The Assassin He was lying there still and calm, oblivious to the rain pouring through the holes in the rusted roof. The warehouse was abandoned many years ago, the air was thick with dust making it difficult to breathe; the smell was like burnt toast. The disused machinery loomed out of the dark corners, covered in cobwebs ghostly images. The Assassin was unaware of his immediate surroundings, his mind focused on his mission. His vantage point gave him a perfect line of fire. A neglected road that was parallel to the decaying wasteland where homeless people built their makeshift homes lay between the Assassin, his targets hideout. He heard a rumble in the distance; it was coming closer by the second, as a car emerged from the night. ...read more.


The engine noise returned of the car with its eyes shut slowly passed once more, mud from the wasteland covering the licence plates. The car was old and coming to its end the engine grumbled as it came to a stop outside the house. The parked car's engine switched off, the rain poured down the cracked windscreen as the windows slowly began to cloud up. The Assassin waited, was it time? The driver side door opened, he glared through the scope, finger on the trigger as the target emerged from the vehicle. The target was a young dark-haired woman, elegant yet the scars that painted her face gave a much worse picture. The rain poured down, drenching the targets every move as she walked towards the front door of the house. ...read more.


The window looked like a spiders web growing outward as the bullet passed through her and shattered the glass. She dropped, like a dead weight she hit the floor with the sound of a muffled thump. The Assassin felt nothing for his victim, he never did and all that mattered to him was the clean kill. He gathered his sights, packed his rifle and brushed away the evidence of his presence as he picked the shell of the fired bullet still hot; he placed it in the box with the other spent cases. How many were in the box, he stopped counting a long time ago but he still kept his mementoes. He swung his bag over his shoulder, he looked back to see the cobweb covered machinery, no trace of his presence was left disappearing into the night to wait foe his next victim. By Ben Brannigan 10Sp ...read more.

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