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The Assassin

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Hwk Tuesday 21st September 2004 The Assassin Aim: To write to imagine, explore and entertain. Chapter 1 He lay on his back sinking into the chocolate mud, gazing at the rain falling like a sheet of crystal drops across the dim lit velvet sky. The forest lay enveloped in shadow. The moon shone through the leaves casting a shattered reflection, shaking violently with the vicious strikes of the blustery weather. Thin rays of light entering the enclosure of the forest lit up the mans face. . . He grinned maliciously in the obscurity of the night showing his decayed, yellow, warped teeth. His eyes stared, fixed at a nearby house. His eyes were a soft blue, charming if there hadn't been the cold, motionless feel to them. His face was, raw and expressionless. A fresh scar ran down his left cheek, like a bolt of lightening. An undersized bead of blood trickled down the slit slowly . . . but was soon washed away by the heavy droplets of the rain. ...read more.


It was obvious that it had not been visited frequently. The patch of grass that it stood in was yellow and parched. The well-built oak doors leading inside the house were elevated, marked and grey. The grey paint had peeled which made the entrance seem older that it was. Beside this ancient door stood a poised, black dog gazing directly at the strangers cold, transfixed, blue eyes. Quivering, the dog moved away from the man hurriedly, as if suddenly shocked by 200 electric volts, whining like a wounded Wolf. Chapter 3 He spun round as a black, tarnished Mercedes turned off the road onto the filthy, neglected path that lead to the derelict house. The car had flecks of chocolate mud on both sides. You could tell it had come from a great distance. The number plate had worn away with age. It now only read: K2 9 W O Some of the lettering was missing but he knew it was what he had been waiting for... The black Mercedes had a few scratches across the right hand side on the front door, just under the window, revealing the bronze, rusting metal beneath the dreary, black paint. ...read more.


Trying to block out her feelings, she began to enter the house. As if reading her mind, he knew she would pause again. Elevating his arm, he pointed his rifle at the back of the woman's fair - haired head. Animals scampered out of the woods with the deafening sound of the splattering blood and splintered bone echoed in the stillness, of the silent night. Within a split second the bullet had seized her life in an almost volcanic like eruption, draining her limp body down to her last drop of blood ... Chapter 5 An assassin. He lifted his rifle and took it apart. Placing it in the pocket of his soiled coat, he made his way down to the house, where the limp body of the woman lay drowning in a pool of blood. Arriving at the front of the uncivilised house, he tranquilly removed any signs of his presence, lifting the cigarette ends and cartridges out of the puddles one by one. Silently, he glided to his car without a care in the world. His conscience did not bother him at all. There was no change in his cold, motionless, blue eyes. The end ...read more.

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