The Assassin- Creative Writing Essay -- Creative Writing Essay

It was almost 6 oclock and the night was drawing closer. Waiting patiently for the return of his prey, he lay with his consistency embedded in the fallen leaves of what looked like an endless procession of hedges. The silence was deafening. He had been there for almost three hours, and only one car had passed by, it was going to be a long night for him. The skies were casting a dark, unwanted shadow over him, as though they knew for what purpose he was present. It had started to rain, its pressure strengthening rapidly. Within minutes buckets of rain belted down hard on the ground, leaving him deeply embedded in the thick tend mud. He struggled to reposition himself, as the slightest of his movements could attract attention to the bush in which he was concealed. His concentration doubled as another set of headlights busted by dint of the trees and peered at him through the rain exactly again they carried on the road accompanied by the sound of its engine. It must have been a van, he thought, as he could still hear the roar of the engine. He raised his rifle, and took a concentrated look at the menage, in order to make an accurate shot. The house was a small detached bungalow in a state of disrepair belonging to a middle-aged lady, afraid of the outdoors. The curtains were drawn, and the nets were extremely discoloured. Strangulating vines of ivy twisted and move round the house, clenching it tightly in its possession.Through this tangled mass of plants a shed protruded from the ground, unlike the house the rain highlighted its wooden walls and bounced neatly off its glassed windows but the roof had seen better days and a glance through an... ...er. His body relaxed. She lifted her bag, her position made her a perfect target-just a single bullet. His encircle was raised. His finger poised on the trigger, ready to strike. He fired. The shot killed her with a revolting wound to the back of the head . Her body crumpled to the ground. Within minutes her body was drained of blood. She lay there motionless. One push of the trigger, and her world had been snatched from her. I wasted not my valuable minutes and swiftly concealed all indications of my presence. forwards taking my leave I took one last look at her. The remnants of her brain poured out of her head endlessly. It was a sight to see. Who would have ever believed that this blood-spattered system would make me a million pounds richer? So precious was her life to her, and others, that somebody wanted her dead