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The Assassin

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The Assassin His motionless body lay there, covered in mud with rain pounding down through the thick layers of hedge covering him. his hair dark blonde and greasy, his face had a scar on his right cheek, his jacket was thick with a tear in the sleeve, the silver zip was broken and pulled right to the top, his trousers grey with black leather patches on the knees also torn where he had moved into position in the hedge, his socks odd and his shoes black leather. No expressions on his face as cars of all kinds pass, as he just stares down the hillside. His body blue with cold but yet he looks warm as though he cannot feel anything. His arms jerk as he once again sights his rifle towards the cottage at the bottom of the wooded hillside. He stares through the scope looking around the cottage. The house had thin blue line running across the front of the house the walls pale and worn out with bricks missing with ivy running up and around them. ...read more.


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. ...read more.


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. ...read more.

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