How are you enjoying the small changes to the blog? I think this’ll be fun and it’ll be a challenge for me which I always enjoy.
Without further ado, here’s this week’s writing, enjoy!
Tommy crouched on the top of the building in the shadows, watching his target. His window of opportunity would be soon and it would be small so he had to remain hyper-vigilant.
He knew it had arrived as his target moved away from the crowds, towards an alley. No doubt, he’d picked another victim and was moving on them. Tommy wasn’t about to allow that to happen, not again.
He picked up his bow and arrow, placing the arrow in the riser, pulling back at the nock-point, hands tight, shoulders relaxed. He aimed, watching for the precise moment he needed.
Just as the man below called out to the young woman he doubtlessly followed into the alley in the first place, Tommy let the arrow fly.
It hit it’s target, into the chest and through the heart. He waited to ensure the man fell before disappearing into the shadows. With such a distinctive weapon, even firing from the shadows into a mostly abandoned alley, he had a very small window to escape.
He folded his bow and tucked it into his guitar case with the other arrows. He quickly made his way down to the street and blended into the crowd. Already, police were gathering around the alley, forming a blockade. Remaining calm, Tommy made his way to the subway.
Face impassive, he saw police scanning everyone on the streets, stopping anyone they thought might have anything to do with this death or might’ve witnessed it.
Tommy ignored it, not thinking he was calling to him.
However, “Hey, you there, with the guitar case!”
He paused, face full of confusion, “Me, Officer?”
“Where did you just come from?”
“The park down the street, sir. I’m a street musician, trying to hit it big.”
“Then you won’t mind opening the guitar case for me, then?”
“I don’t understand why but not at all.”
Tommy crouched, ignoring the prickle down his spine as the officer remained standing, laying the guitar case on it’s back, flicking the clasp and opened it.
The officer peered in, seeing the battered red Yamaha guitar along with some coins and dollar bills in the bottom.
“Thank you, sir. You can close it and head on your way now.”
“Why did you need to see in my case, Officer?”
“You didn’t have anything to do with it, I suppose it won’t hurt anything. A man was just killed in that alleyway with an arrow. Your case seemed the right size and shape to conceal a bow. Sorry for the inconvenience.”
Hiding his frustration with being judged simply on what he looked like, “I understand, sir. You’re just trying to keep everyone safe.”
The officer tipped his hat and Tommy picked up his case, heading on to the Subway station. He took the next train, heading back to his apartment.
Arriving back at his apartment, in SoHo, he easily let himself in, locking the door behind him. Once he was certain there was no surveillance in the place, he put the case down, releasing the hidden clasp. He opened the guitar case, revealing the hidden compartment and pulled out his bow for polishing.
A young woman came out of his bedroom, “Did you do it?”
He glanced at the young woman, “It’s done. He’s dead. He won’t hurt anyone anymore.”
The young woman bounced in place, Tommy deliberately ignoring the blood puddle she was leaving at her feet, “Oh, Wonderful!”
“Oh, I see a light!”
“Of course, your time here is done, your vengeance achieved.”
“Thank you, Tommy! Goodbye!”
With that, the young redheaded woman turned towards the light only she could see, revealing the back of her scalp that was missing and disappeared from sight.
Tommy put the bow in place to polish the next day before heading to another park to play his guitar for some money.
After all, the best alibi is one with some truth to it.
And he did enjoy playing his guitar, even wanted to be a professional musician before he lost everything when he was young and realized his ability to see the world of Lost hidden in their world.
Now, he chose to be an assassin, achieving vengeance for those dead that could not do it for themselves.
He also took jobs for the living, after all, he couldn’t survive on services for the dead only.
He headed to bed, knowing the next day would be a busy day and knew he wanted to get a newspaper at some point.
The true nature of the man he’d killed tonight would unfold in the news over the coming days, they always did.
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