| General Fiction posted April 13, 2017 |
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Death comes easy.
The Art of Assassination
by jusylee72
I couldn't quite catch the speedy demon. Houdini, as I called him, lived in my kitchen. In Texas, we have the tree variety of cockroaches - huge, ugly and with wings.
In the middle of the night, I see him creep out and start the race. I would try to ambush him, but he was just too clever. He knew every nook and cranny in my house.
Tonight, I waited in the dark, I used a pen light to trick him. I sat in silence. He had no idea I was there. When spotted, I stepped on him full force with my slipper.
"Got ya, Bugger." I lifted my foot triumphantly only to see him scurry under the refrigerator. A cuss word escaped my lips.
The use of chemical weapons seemed appropriate. I bought the largest can of "Bug Bully." I sprayed until I could no longer breathe, shut the door and went to bed.
In the morning he was laying in the kitchen on his back. Even then, when I lightly touched him his legs would move. I wondered why he was holding on to life. It was useless. Finally, several hours later he was still.
Humans have protection too. However, with careful training and patience, I have mastered the art of the assassin. I am called upon often. My reputation is widely known, even if my name is not.
Today, Senator Reynolds has no idea it is his last day on earth. I am on the roof of the Hilton, a block away from his favorite eatery, "La Cuisine". He should be coming out any minute.
Amazingly, the research involved in assassinations takes much more time than the actual deed.
Who would have known my Marine sniper training would lead to such a lucrative job?
Senators go for about 300,000.
The Afghanistan war prepared me mentally. Death and people mean nothing to me.
So who do you think hired me? Some radical group? The Mafia?
No, not so glamorous. It's his wife.
He is having lunch with his mistress.
Now they are walking to the Taxi Stand. Pretending they are not together, just another business lunch.
My aim is perfect. Squeeze the trigger slowly, no sudden movements.
Done.
Perfect hole in the middle of his forehead. His poor mistress is splattered with brain matter and blood. Her beautiful yellow dress is ruined. It is quite a scene.
I am dressed as a Muslim. Last night, Reynolds made a speech condemning the Muslim Religion. My timing is perfect. I was seen coming into the hotel. Incriminating evidence is in room 806. My Muslim garb will be left on the roof. My extra suitcase and I will be exiting the back door in ten minutes.
Reynolds was so easy. Houdini was a much better challenge.
Assassinate Me A Thriller! writing prompt entry
I couldn't quite catch the speedy demon. Houdini, as I called him, lived in my kitchen. In Texas, we have the tree variety of cockroaches - huge, ugly and with wings.
In the middle of the night, I see him creep out and start the race. I would try to ambush him, but he was just too clever. He knew every nook and cranny in my house.
Tonight, I waited in the dark, I used a pen light to trick him. I sat in silence. He had no idea I was there. When spotted, I stepped on him full force with my slipper.
"Got ya, Bugger." I lifted my foot triumphantly only to see him scurry under the refrigerator. A cuss word escaped my lips.
The use of chemical weapons seemed appropriate. I bought the largest can of "Bug Bully." I sprayed until I could no longer breathe, shut the door and went to bed.
In the morning he was laying in the kitchen on his back. Even then, when I lightly touched him his legs would move. I wondered why he was holding on to life. It was useless. Finally, several hours later he was still.
Humans have protection too. However, with careful training and patience, I have mastered the art of the assassin. I am called upon often. My reputation is widely known, even if my name is not.
Today, Senator Reynolds has no idea it is his last day on earth. I am on the roof of the Hilton, a block away from his favorite eatery, "La Cuisine". He should be coming out any minute.
Amazingly, the research involved in assassinations takes much more time than the actual deed.
Who would have known my Marine sniper training would lead to such a lucrative job?
Senators go for about 300,000.
The Afghanistan war prepared me mentally. Death and people mean nothing to me.
So who do you think hired me? Some radical group? The Mafia?
No, not so glamorous. It's his wife.
He is having lunch with his mistress.
Now they are walking to the Taxi Stand. Pretending they are not together, just another business lunch.
My aim is perfect. Squeeze the trigger slowly, no sudden movements.
Done.
Perfect hole in the middle of his forehead. His poor mistress is splattered with brain matter and blood. Her beautiful yellow dress is ruined. It is quite a scene.
I am dressed as a Muslim. Last night, Reynolds made a speech condemning the Muslim Religion. My timing is perfect. I was seen coming into the hotel. Incriminating evidence is in room 806. My Muslim garb will be left on the roof. My extra suitcase and I will be exiting the back door in ten minutes.
Reynolds was so easy. Houdini was a much better challenge.
In the middle of the night, I see him creep out and start the race. I would try to ambush him, but he was just too clever. He knew every nook and cranny in my house.
Tonight, I waited in the dark, I used a pen light to trick him. I sat in silence. He had no idea I was there. When spotted, I stepped on him full force with my slipper.
"Got ya, Bugger." I lifted my foot triumphantly only to see him scurry under the refrigerator. A cuss word escaped my lips.
The use of chemical weapons seemed appropriate. I bought the largest can of "Bug Bully." I sprayed until I could no longer breathe, shut the door and went to bed.
In the morning he was laying in the kitchen on his back. Even then, when I lightly touched him his legs would move. I wondered why he was holding on to life. It was useless. Finally, several hours later he was still.
Humans have protection too. However, with careful training and patience, I have mastered the art of the assassin. I am called upon often. My reputation is widely known, even if my name is not.
Today, Senator Reynolds has no idea it is his last day on earth. I am on the roof of the Hilton, a block away from his favorite eatery, "La Cuisine". He should be coming out any minute.
Amazingly, the research involved in assassinations takes much more time than the actual deed.
Who would have known my Marine sniper training would lead to such a lucrative job?
Senators go for about 300,000.
The Afghanistan war prepared me mentally. Death and people mean nothing to me.
So who do you think hired me? Some radical group? The Mafia?
No, not so glamorous. It's his wife.
He is having lunch with his mistress.
Now they are walking to the Taxi Stand. Pretending they are not together, just another business lunch.
My aim is perfect. Squeeze the trigger slowly, no sudden movements.
Done.
Perfect hole in the middle of his forehead. His poor mistress is splattered with brain matter and blood. Her beautiful yellow dress is ruined. It is quite a scene.
I am dressed as a Muslim. Last night, Reynolds made a speech condemning the Muslim Religion. My timing is perfect. I was seen coming into the hotel. Incriminating evidence is in room 806. My Muslim garb will be left on the roof. My extra suitcase and I will be exiting the back door in ten minutes.
Reynolds was so easy. Houdini was a much better challenge.
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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! :) |
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