Skull and Crossbones

810 Words2 Pages

The wind was howling; the rain was cascading down and pounding hard

against the ground. An occasional lightening bolt blazed across the

black velvet sky, lighting up a sinister figure, which could be seen,

dressed in black and almost camouflaged against the night.

The swamp-like earth oozed underneath his feet; like a snake emerging

from the mud. A stench of evil seemed to hang in the air around this

mysterious man, with his piercing, cold eyes and his bloodless,

expressionless face. His senses were occasionally alerted to a passing

car, which picked its way precariously amongst the numerous deep

potholes along the neglected road on the outskirts of the deserted,

crumbling town. Although many things happened around him however, he

seemed oblivious to everything, such was his fierce determination. He

even appeared unmoved as another lightening bolt flashed dramatically

in the late night sky and then climaxed in sound around his pointed

ears. As he slowly drew a sniper rifle and pointed it towards the

derelict house, it became sickeningly clear what his spine-chilling

intentions were.

The house he had in his sights was so bleak and so miserable it was

hard to imagine that it had ever been inhabited. A grisly sight of

simple blocks of dull, grey stone which the remaining paint was

peeling off met his glazer stares; crude walls which supported the

roof, with its broken and shattered stone tiles not escaping his

photographic memory, overgrown grass and weed hung across the

entrance, almost concealing the worm-eaten front door; his eyesight

was impeccable. Moss covered the slimy steps: he noted this in case he

needed to get closer ...

... middle of paper ...

... were caked, in mud. He took some

money out of the pocket of his leather jacket and handed it to the

assassin, who pocketed it as quickly as he could, as his hands were

frozen from standing out in the pouring wind and howling rain for two

whole hours. He now took apart the sniper rifle with the skill of a

master craftsman and packed it away safely in a black leather case. He

then took the cartridge case, wrapped it in paper and put in the bin,

which had all sorts of dead animals in it, such as cats who had eaten

the scraps thrown out. He put out his 20th cigarette that he had

smoked that night and put that in the bin as well. He now snuck out of

the alleyway and made for his black convertible car. He threw his

leather suitcase on the back seat, started the ignition and then

roared off into the night in a puff of smoke.

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