The Assassin| FLASH FICTION

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(Edited)

I stood still as I watched the grey smoke from his pipe flickered disrespectfully over my crinkly face. My legs and hands were trembling frantically even though the strange-looking man who sat on the sofa opposite me had now withdrawn the pistol that was placed on my forehead.
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"Chief, I have been paid to take your life," he laughed like a boiling pot of rice, his fingers running over the mouth of his pistol. "You should be a dead man by now but I will spare your life."

I wanted to thank him, to ask him who had given him the contract but I felt a formidable glue between my lips. My words forsook me.

"Keep being a good man," the assassin rose to his feet, tucking his pistol beneath his mafian jacket. "When I was hungry, you fed me. And when I was naked, you clothed me. Sparing your life tonight is the least I could do to pay you back."

Then the man dived through the window, gone. I spent the rest of the night crying and repeating the sign of the crucifix.



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