Author's Note:
This piece is old and abandoned. Enjoy this bit of writing practice by a younger Snoink, if you so desire, but critiques and any other insults or suggestions for improvement will be otherwise ignored.
-- Snoink
The Story
She crept forward, a rope in her hands. There he was… a single man in his late twenties. He was alone in this alley, looking for his “friend.” His friend was the one who sent her on this task. She tightened her lips grimly, but didn’t falter. Her hands tightened on the rope.
Then she jumped him.
One minute, he was standing there, an impatient bewildered look on his face. The next minute he was on the floor, gagging and choking and trying his best to struggle. She was hovering over him with the rope around his neck. She tightened it. He tried to swipe her face or arms, but in a minute, his face blue, he died.
Someone clapped.
She turned and she saw a man staring at her. The man was in his mid-forties, she guessed, and wore a rich suit. He was rich, she realized with a sudden, hungry desire. He looked well fed. Nobody was well fed. Not here. She clutched her stomach automatically.
He smiled at her, still clapping. “Bravo, m’lady,” he said in a rich voice. “That was perhaps the best entertainment I’ve seen yet.”
She stood over the dead man’s body, not quite sure what to do. She had never been caught before. She was just too good. That’s why they hired her. She was the best assassin around – not too pretty (pretty just meant recognizable) and yet so slender and nimble… it was obvious from looking at her that she could get in and out tight places. A perfect assassin.
But now, the man made her nervous. She looked down at the dead man again, noticing with a certain amount of sickness how his eyes bulged out. She usually never stuck around. She hated death.
“Whaddaya want?” she called out to him. “I ain’t done nuthin’.”
His eyebrows raised and he laughed again. “Ah, but not so smart.” He glanced over his shoulder, and then walked towards the assassin. “Let’s get out of here before they find out.” He offered his arm to her. She refused it, and, when he shrugged, she pulled the rope over his head.
There was one moment of resistance, and then she felt herself being flung into the wall. She gasped. All the air felt as if it had been torn out of her chest. While she breathed in deeply, she saw him stand over her, a gun firmly in his hand.
“Well, that wasn’t very nice, was it?” She stared at him dully and then cried out, flattening herself on the wall. “Now get up.” He gestured the gun and she slowly got up. “Let’s go.”
They walked away.
More of just writing practice, if you know what I mean.
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