The Assassin

         His face lights up, he struggles at first to lift the rifle as his hands are near to frozen and the rifle had began to sunk into the mud, he pulls the sight of the rifle towards his eye, a torn and battered car jerking as though the suspension had been loosened and swerving from left to right slightly as it makes its way down the muddy path leading to the cottage, pulling up in front of the broken down car. The tires dripping with mud yet he could still make out the family emblem, as he tightened his grip on the rifle he begins to scan the car three members of the family were sitting in the car, the car a pale red the doors dented with rust marks on the edges of the doors. His face still with no expression looks down at the cobbled path then sights back to the car his hands steady as though he has lack of nerves and cannot feel the bitter cold being pushed through the hedge by the piercing wind. He presses his left finger on the trigger ready to fire he switches the safety off with his right thumb and pressing his eye into the sight he stares down at the opening door of the car.

         He begins to count one, two, three as a woman with long brown hair and a long droopy black coat down to her knees begins to walk along the muddy cobbled path, he stops counting at six as she stops, a second person exits the car, A man with no hair wearing a blue suit and a blue tie starts making his way down the path, the killer then cocks his gun and sights the crosshairs towards the back of the victim, again he begins counting one, two, three he reaches six again he tightens his grip and continues seven, eight. They both turn round as the third person in the car had said something the man in the suit only looked about 18 he was still young, then all of a sudden he drops to his knees as the sound of a car goes by, the victim falls slowly as though they are having a heart attack blood still pumping out so the heart was still pumping, it had been done the killer with no feeling gives out a quick giggle then lowers his rifle for the last time. The victim lay there peaceful like a dead dog blood gushing on the floor and being washed into the thick black mud which was now red the rain still pounding washing the blood from the hands of the man and washing away the blood from the mouth and chest wound of the woman the man kneeling over her body crying and shaking with cold and fear staring at the stream of blood around him.

          The killer picking up his empty shell smiling and giggling every now and again, he begins to dismantle his rifle piece by piece placing it in a black leather case with slots for the individual pieces. His face has no remorse for what he had done. He takes off his clothes and underneath a fresh pair of clothes a chequered suit with wet patches where the rain had gone through his torn jacket. His original clothes were now covered in mud he places them in a bin liner and disperses the scene without being noticed by passer-by’s as he walks towards his car he smiles and lets out a sigh of relief.