Horror and Thriller Flash Fiction posted September 19, 2015


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An assassin finds herself in a fight for her life.

The Final Battle

by davisr (Rhonda)

The air was ripe with suspense as I made my way through the old house where my enemies hid. In the inner depths, behind unknown and unspoken crevices, they lie in wait. They knew I was coming. I knew they were there. It was an ancient battle, and I the harbinger of death. It had come to this--the final battle--and I was ready.

For many years, I and my associates had worked under cover of darkness, the unseen shadows of death. We were ever feared as hidden threats. None knew we were coming and none knew we were there until their last dying breath.

Success had followed us all the years of our operation. Hell, for generations. The skills of our profession had been passed down for years untold. Father taught son, mother taught daughter, and we had jealously guarded our secrets.

Our sort were difficult to find when you needed us, but not impossible. Someone always knew where we were. Though we didn't come cheap, we were worth it. Once on the job, we never gave up until our prey was annihilated. That part had not changed. What did was "them". The enemy had organized.

My partner, Angelo, was on the other side of the house and we were working inward. Blake and Suzette were upstairs doing the same. We would trap them in-between. They might have evolved, but so had we.

The signal was given to attack--a single chirp of our synchronized cell phones. I pulled on my gas mask, and threw the bomb. Smoke began to whirl and twist wickedly. I smiled as I heard screams of agony. They may have known I was coming, but they were still outgunned.

I made my way back to the door of the house, smiling smugly. To have laughed would have been unprofessional, and I wasn't that. Not yet. I reached for the door, and my hand touch something sticky. I tried to pull back, but couldn't. A thick silky rope now bound it to the door handle. As I tried to turn around, more of the sticky rope fell on my face and body.

Frantically, I tore at my bonds, but the more I struggled, the deeper became my entanglement. I decided to go for the knife I kept hanging on my belt. I reached for it, but felt a needle go into my arm and render it useless. Then another needle, and then another. I looked around in horror. A thousand eyes looked back, and then I screamed.

As teeth tore into my body, I heard my associates screaming from across the battlefield. This wasn't supposed to happen. We were Spidernators, and we were going down in battle.







Assassinate Me A Thriller! writing prompt entry
Writing Prompt
In 500 words or less, write a thriller (or/and horror) prose involving an assassin/assassination or hitman/hitwoman. No poetry or script, please. Be creative and have fun! :)

Recognized


Special thanks for the beautiful artwork, "Dust to Dust" by Gregory John.

By the way, this story is personal--- I hate spiders!
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