The Assassin - Short Story

The Assassin - Short Story

He just lay there, on the wet ground, for hours. He looked as though

he was just casually waiting and that it was perfectly normal to lie

on the ground. After a few hours it started to rain heavily, though

this did not discourage him in the slightest as he just carried on

lying there, looking comfortable and content. Once in a while a car

would drive along the lonely road and the people inside would stare in

his direction but the long grass hid him. He had a serious frown and

thin, pursed lips with a protruding jaw. Whilst lying there in the

rain he chain-smoked a cigarette, carefully putting the buts in his

pocket to ensure no evidence was left, and watched the view below.

Occasionally the man would look at his watch and slyly smile to

himself, and then he would go back to watching the house. Every so

often, when he was sure that no one was about, he lifted the rifle and

sighted down to the front of the house slowly and patiently.

The house that he was over-looking was dull and shabby. It was

apparent that it had not been inhabited for many years as the windows

were broken, and the roof was caving in. The house had turned a grey

colour with dark green moss growing out of the jagged cracks. The back

door had fallen down and was slowly decomposing into the ground,

leaving behind a strong, putrid stench of the decaying wood.

Surrounding the house was a huge garden that contained dying plants

and trees, and the grass had overgrown and was turning a nasty brown

colour. The weather made everything look so dull and dead, drowning

everything gradually in its hands. There was an uncared atmosphere

that co...

... middle of paper ...

...he had seen him, and knew that it was he who

had killed her - she was his audience.

He picked up his gun and went to where he had been waiting for her. He

gathered up any spare cigarette butts and put them into his brief

case, along with the cartridge case. He walked around to the back of

the house to where he had parked his van. He gave off an air of

calmness and peace although he was cold and drenched. He carried on

walking slowly to his van, carefully missing the muddy puddles. The

hood of his coat was pushed over his head, covering his eyes. When he

got to the van, he opened the doors at the back and went in to change

his clothes, putting the old ones into a black bin bag. He zipped up

the jumper and climbed over the seats and sat in the drivers seat. He

pushed the key into the ignition, turned it, and drove off.