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The Assassin

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The Assassin Black cascading hair fell over the swarthy pockmarked face as the assassin struggled to view his target through the blinding rain. Camouflaged against the black earth, the windswept landscape lay lifelessly before him. Anxiety grasped his body as fear meandered down his spine; vivid images of death tormented his mind reminding him of his past victims. How could he have been reduced to this? The tedium of an office life had pushed him to the brink of self-denial. No longer could he withstand the mindless torture of paperwork, endless party's uneventful social venues in a word frivolity. A beam of light penetrated his thoughts bringing him abruptly back to his current situation. Shivering violently the assassin clenched his hands against his body desperate for warmth and comfort. A figure casually strolled out of the doorway of the dilapidated mansion before him. "Who was this?" "Why was he bearded?" ...read more.


The car coughed into life and rolled across the baron landscape. The assassin didn't feel relieved to escape as he usually did after each assignment. "How was this different?" He did not discover until the following morning. The fire crackled like tongues of angry snakes comforting his fatigued and aching limbs as he lay back in his soft mahogany chair. The maid strolled in with his typical English Breakfast; wisps of steam ascended from the silver platter. Renaissance paintings adorned the magenta walls, bleached sheepskin rugs floated across the silky sheen of the polished wooden floor. Tranquility rained. The maid handed the selection of tabloids, with an apprehensive look adhered to her face. It was not long before his face projected the same image. A cool stark photograph of a well-groomed businessman littered every page of every paper, with a poignant title above it "Who would want to murder innocent business-man?" ...read more.


The pale eyes of the blackened figure depicted every detail of the assassin's appearance, deciphered his thought processes and seemed to formulate an internal report on his adversary. All hope had been helplessly crushed, as the assassin now became the victim, his fate was in the hands of this anonymous male. The cool metallic shimmer of light ran down the hollow chamber of the sleek object, which was carefully perched directly in front of the assassin's cranium. His eyelids clung together in desperation, fear spiraled down his spine, and his body froze in terror.... Bang.... Blood meandered down the contours of his face; the lifeless corpse hit the Persian rug, minute droplets of warm blood splattered across the Champagne walls as the figure, contorted with pain. Light once again encapsulated the room, silence fell upon the room, as the victim lay dead. So peaceful yet morbid. How he had survived couldn't be contemplated. 'Who had killed the malicious figure clad in black?' 'Why?' The assassin had never felt so desperate and helpless in his life, but it was finally over. ...read more.

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