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Original Writing - Prose: 'The Assassin'.

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Emma Phipps 'The Assassin' He just lay there, on the wet ground, for hours. He looked as though he was just casually waiting and that it was perfectly normal to lie on the ground. After a few hours it started to rain heavily, though this did not discourage him in the slightest as he just carried on lying there, looking comfortable and content. Once in a while a car would drive along the lonely road and the people inside would stare in his direction but the long grass hid him. He had a serious frown and thin, pursed lips with a protruding jaw. Whilst lying there in the rain he chain-smoked a cigarette, carefully putting the buts in his pocket to ensure no evidence was left, and watched the view below. Occasionally the man would look at his watch and slyly smile to himself, and then he would go back to watching the house. ...read more.


He manoeuvred himself to see the view of the side of the house as a green car turned off the road onto the muddy path leading to the house. As the car went past the gate, he noticed a long deep scratch along the left side of it. Right on queue, the car drove over the nail he had planted on the path, the car swerved and came to a stop. The woman in the car got out and went to the tyre to see if she could see what had punctured it. She went back to the car and fished out her mobile. She put it to her ear, but didn't say anything. He looked at his own, and saw that there was no signal and then looked up and saw that she was trying again. A frustrated expression appeared on her face. ...read more.


He felt a sense of pleasure as she had seen him, and knew that it was he who had killed her - she was his audience. He picked up his gun and went to where he had been waiting for her. He gathered up any spare cigarette butts and put them into his brief case, along with the cartridge case. He walked around to the back of the house to where he had parked his van. He gave off an air of calmness and peace although he was cold and drenched. He carried on walking slowly to his van, carefully missing the muddy puddles. The hood of his coat was pushed over his head, covering his eyes. When he got to the van, he opened the doors at the back and went in to change his clothes, putting the old ones into a black bin bag. He zipped up the jumper and climbed over the seats and sat in the drivers seat. He pushed the key into the ignition, turned it, and drove off. ...read more.

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