The Assassin It was early December and he had being lying on his front all evening in-between a large boulder

He was a well-built man with thick black hair, his face was old and smothered with green ink. His long body was covered from head to toe in a black and green uniform and his large heavy boots were soaked with water. He wiped the raindrops off the front of his scope with his big heavy hands. The cabin he was watching was small and derelict with an old rickety rotten porch accompanied with a small outhouse around the back, the windows were cracked and screened with cobwebs.

The car pulled up slowly in front of the house coated with a thick layer of mud and a cracked headlight. The target slowly opened the door and stepped out of the car. She was alone. Looking around cautiously she paced slowly towards the cabin door splashing in the deep murky puddles. She looked nervous and frightened and was breathing heavily, He focused upon the woman’s petrified face and followed her as she moved, he took a deep breath and slowly pulled the trigger back….. The forest fell silent and the woman fell to ground with a splash and the dark murky pools once brown turned red.

The assassin stood up slowly and reached inside his jacket. He pulled out a cigarette and a lighter and casually leaned against the tree beside him. He watched over the woman’s lifeless body puffing smoke rings. He put out his cigarette against the tree and put the remainder of it in his pocket, he picked up the smoking rifle and slung it over his shoulder. He scanned the floor where he lay, picked up the empty cartridge and swept the floor, slowly he stomped away into the dark forest.

        Alex Baker