Wednesday, 1 April 2020

The Assassin - by Keira Best


The Assassin 



In the dead of dawn, the tropic sun loomed from above; hitting the assassin like a bully as if it was released from the Dungeon of Tora. This humid light illuminated just enough for the murderer to identify the challenge that laid in front of him. The killer grinned maliciously – his cunning plan was starting to link together like a jigsaw puzzle.



As he trekked across, his feet were encased in a blanket of sand. Each step making it more difficult for this treacherous monster to manoeuvre closer to the innocent victim. “Times ticking,” the criminal muttered, under his breath. Camouflaging himself, his eyes penetrated the distance where this doomed sufferer will arrive to its death. He waited…he waited…for this action of tragedy to begin. Pure murder. Now, his adrenaline was pumping, pulse accelerated.



Minutes turned into hours, his muscular torso begins to ache, entire body shaking. Impatiently waiting for the right opportunity. Suddenly, a queer noise suffocates the silence. Crack!



“Finally,” thought the perpetrator, a smug sneer drawing across his face. “Take your last breath,”he sniggers.



Without delay, he darted from his uncomfortable position where he thought the mysterious sound came from . However, he quickly discovered his eyes and ears had deceived him; this trick made him hungrier for what was about to take place…



“Arghhh,” he snarled in frustration. His brain was held hostage by his thoughts.



Instantly he was more embarrassed than he had ever been, he felt like a wounded soldier in a war from this mental pain. So he rapidly hid into his original position and remembered what he came here for – murder.  Determination plunged into his veins. All of a sudden, he sensed something, something was lingering…



As excitement rushes, a final breath escapes from the villain’s body. Surrounding him was complete silence once again. “Not for long,” he thought in his head. Then, the meek victim enters the death zone. After a period of time, the assassin shoots from his seeking spot towards him. In a rush the victim vigorously endeavours to move through the enclosed spaces. Grasp! Rip!



“Your finished,” he hissed malevolently, “victory is mine.”



The coat of the Desert Fox was encrusted with the blood of the humble Jerboa. A stench of pain left the bare body. Glee envelopes the hulking figure and he triumphantly sprinted back with the rodent between his Canines; ready to devour his prey.







Written by Keira Best




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