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The Assassin

The phone beeps in my pocket announcing her arrival. Heavy footsteps ring out on the pathway. Ding-dong. A large dark shape stands outside. It has to be her.

Hinges creak as the door swings open. The cape hardly moves as a shiny object reflects blinding sunlight in my eyes. Searing pain crosses my chest. Stumbling backwards attempting escape. Becoming weaker, I look down and see a curious bulge. Red drops on the wooden floor.

Why am I weak? The air feels colder. One final pain and the shiny steel invades my ribcage. Thud, I'm on the floor. The visitor is gone.

Story by:

Andrew Shortall

submitted at 10:02pm

2 February 2011