'The Assassin'.

  The house enveloped in a dark cloud. It stood surrounded by a lifeless garden and what is originally known as greenland but under the dark cloud looked black, dead. The doors were made of a grubby rotting wood peeling in the wind. The shutters hanging from the damp walls swinging in the horrid wind. The chimney whistled. The wind was cold and strong but didn't bother him at all. Behind a tree he stood waiting for the critical moment. He once again gazed down at his watch. Anytime now.

  He lifted his head and turned to see a car slowly turning off the  country road and heading down the muddy dirt track towards the house for the last time. This is it the time he had been waiting for. The off-coloured car, originally blue but now a grubby colour drove calmly down the rutted path, gravel hitting of the surface of the car scraping the side adding yet another scratch. The bumper was damaged and almost hanging on the back of the car. The windscreen wipers were working at top speed. The radio was playing at high volume. The car came to a sudden stop. His victim was unaware of what lay ahead. She stayed sitting in the car while collecting papers and collecting her keys so she could run to the house and try and stay as dry as possible. She looked up to see no-one. She was back home after a long day at work but what she didn't know was, it might be her last.

She stepped out the car very elegantly. Her long brown hair was tied up and her face covered in layers of make-up almost like a mask. She moved swiftly along the cracked pathway up to the house trying her best to avoid the puddles on her way. The rain was running down her face wiping off the make-up as if she was melting. Her face now less beautiful, now pale, white like snow. Her dress now wet and sticking to her thin bony body, slowing her down slightly. Her shoes were slipping on the wet soggy leaves covering the narrowed footpath up to the house. While she was rushing to dryness she got her bag caught on a tree branch. He was loving this. Still calm he watched as she became closer and closer. She finally got to the door,  she paused to pick up her keys. Everything was going as planned. He lifted his strong manly hand aimed and before she knew what was happening she lay cold, drowning in a puddle of blood, her blood. He stood over her and looked at her with a grin showing his yellowed teeth. His job was done.

  Laughing an evil laugh he turned and slowly walked away from the scene. He once again removed his bag from his shoulder and opened it to pull out the case. Before putting the rifle back into the  case  he pulled out an old cloth that was stained red and wiped the rifle then gently placed it in to the small metal case and tucked it away in his rugged old bag placed it on his shoulder a walked away retracing his steps looking down at the grass. Every so often he would stop and pick up anything that showed signs of his presence and placed them in his pocket. He walked calmly, casually and completely unruffled towards his black shiny car. He didn't look back not even once. He didn't care. He had done this many times before and this wasn't his last time.