There was a quiet rustle as the tyres of the car rolled slowly over the stones, to the left of the assassin a vehicle appeared, moving gingerly down the drive. As it passed the trees the rusted bonnet began to become visible, a murky once white colour. It gradually came into full view and he could see that the roof of the car was made out of black bin liners tied together, flapping around in the wind making a whipping noise as they contracted. The sea-blue boot of the car had an indent to the left side of it. This made the car look very misshaped and abnormal. As the car came to a halt, a puff of smoke came out of the exhaust which blurred the view of the assassin as he could not see what was going on. He did not move because he would give away his position, so he sat there waiting for the smoke to disappear. He was becoming very anxious, what if the victim disappeared, and all these thoughts were rushing through his head. He was trying so hard to focus on the victim, but the thick musky over-powering smoke would not clear.
The assassin was ready to go; he got up, holding the rifle in his hands, making sure he did not stand on any of the broken glass or any of the leaves. Ensuring he was not able to be seen from the house he occasionally stopped and positioned himself to find the perfect area. Now on a flat area of land halfway down the knoll, he setup the tripod and placed the rifle down.
Waiting patiently for his victim to come into view he adjusted his glasses and lifted his tartan flat-cap up. Through one of the old stained-glass windows he could make out a body. He gazed down at his watch, the big hand had hit five, and he knew it was time. After getting into position he slid his black leather gloves onto his hands, adjusting the binocular he coiled his fingers around the trigger, slowly drawing the trigger back. The wind was howling in his hair, making it difficult for him to focus. The shadows were playing havoc with the windows; they seemed to be making the body sway from side-to –side. His hands were becoming clammy and twitchy; he knew he had to do the job no matter what. After cleaning his gloves he placed the rifle back on the tri-pod.
After recuperating he tried again. Fumbling around in his bag he found his phone. He thought if he rang the victim then he knew she would be in a certain spot and would not move. Dialling the number, he was ready to shoot. The victim walked towards the phone, the assassin was watching every move. The ringing stopped and then there was a silence, then suddenly a whizzing noise and a bang.
The assassin was shot dead.
He lay there on the floor with an accurate gaping circular wound between his flawlessly shaped eyebrows. He had been shot stone dead; there was no one in sight.
The trees were blowing in the wind and sky was beginning to open. A droplet of rain fell on his face; it rolled down his lifeless cheek and exploded as it hit the fall.
The intended victim walked back to the other room and closed the curtains. Feeling fully content with herself, she sat back in her chair rocking backwards and forwards. The trees were still making shadows alongside the house, which now looked even more sinister than before.
