The Assassin
Member rating: No Rating | Words: | Submitted: Tue Aug 26 2003
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The Assassin He stood alone in the dilapidated old home. The shadows were gathered and the man in the moon was screaming in agony. His face was expressionless, with eyes as sharp as a spinning needle, His skin was pasty white. The television emitted a soft glow upon his face, highlighting his pupils. In his hand, was as blade, long and sharp, The very point was shimmering as he slid the cloth up and down the side of the machete-like knife, he pulled his slimy, greasy lips back over his yellow stained teeth and smiled. He sat in his armchair in front of the television and slid the knife into the holder around his waist. Then a loud ringing pierced the silence, He picked up the receiver and a shadowed, scratchy voice began to give him details; "11:45, Elm Street," He carried on, "He's a "6'2"ft dark haired guy;...


