Essay about The Assassin

Essay about The Assassin

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It is pitch black, bucketing with rain, but he does not shiver. He
lies crouched in a small puddle beneath a large dead oak tree, near an
old wooden bridge; waiting. A bright moon gives light through the bare
branches of the tree, casting eerie shadows on him. He is sporting a
trench coat and a sizeable pair of boots. A cigarette is wedged in a
space in his teeth, not lit. Over his eyes is a pair of dark shades.
Wearing these, no ordinary man could see, except this is no ordinary
man. Cloned for one objective, the assassin sees better than men, and
knows what he is meant to achieve. The time is approaching. A small,
old car with a smashed headlight approaches the bridge unhurriedly.
Just before it changes gear, the assassin draws a weapon not unlike a
long and shiny television ariel from his trench coat. He points it
towards the speeding car and fires, once.

The impending threat has been eliminated. There is only one thing left
to do. He breaks from the crouched stance he was in, and starts
towards the aged and dilapidated house that looms prominently in the
reddish-black sky. A bolt of lightning momentarily illuminates the
house. It is large, with robust walls and a grand wooden door for an
entrance. Some windows are shattered, but the structure is sound. The
car comes to a halt just a couple metres from it. The driver within
the car has literally been frozen stiff by the sophisticated weapon
the assassin has used. She is like a statue, attached to the steering
wheel. He pushes the car over the bridge with no difficulty. He coolly
carries on walking at a constant, unrelenting pace in the direction of
the house, as if he has done n...


... middle of paper ...


...ad been let fall on the floor, still
unlighted, and leaves the house. Using the latest weapon in his
arsenal, the assassin fires at the fence, making the gate to initiate
due to the huge surge of electricity. He hastens towards the old
wooden bridge, and crouches in a little puddle under the large, dead
oak tree neighboring it; waiting. The cigarette is stuck in a gap
between his teeth. He shuffles around in his trench coat, probing for
a lighter, but then recalls that he has left it in his old coat, that
he had left to burn with the clone. He soon hears the drone of a
small, old, car with a broken headlight approaching him. Just before
it changes gear, the assassin pulls a weapon similar to a long and
shiny television ariel from his trench coat. He aims it in the
direction of the speeding vehicle and fires, only once.

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