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Stevens County, Minnesota (Images of America Series) based on 0 ratings. 3 reviews.
Very interesting plot, and if was more detailed and more sentences, it could probably be published. PLEASE KEEP ON GOING!!!
You story is really well written and exciting! Keep up the good work! ~Diana
I pinned the man down with my free hand, the other still holding the kitchen knife. "Where is your money kept?" I asked in my most demanding voice, each syllable threatening death.<br> The man's pasty face went white and he struggled for breath. "Un-un-under my p-pillow," he babbled fearfully. "M-my wallet, that is."<br> "Thank you."<br> He was obviously hoping l would slip away so he could escape, but an assassin must be cleverer than that. I quickly slit his throat, waiting for his heartbeat to slow, then found his leather wallet and stuffed it in my utility belt. It was fat with Cirunas. Yes! I told myself, wiping the knife clean of blood and putting it neatly back into his kitchen cupboard. Not only will you get a high pay from the employer, you get a bonus- the dead man's wallet!<br> The mayor of Borusi usually ignored killings done by assassins, because the ones that made the most of them never got caught. All a townsperson could do to protect themselves was lock the windows and doors at night. Bounty hunters were like smoke: they slipped through your fingers every time.<br> I returned to my apartment, sticking the silver key into the lock to get in. The door wouldn't open. I rattled the knob impatiently. Then l saw what was blocking it. Another thick, cream paper envelope was stuck tidily under the door. I stuck my thumbnail under the seal.<p> To Whom This May Concern,<p> You are cordially invited to my home, same place, same time, tomorrow night. Bring equipment and casual clothing. You are going to recieve your first assignment.<p> Good luck!<p> Teacher<p> Ah...l remember him. I noticed how carefully the letter is written, so if it was intercepted, it would not disclose anything secret. I yawned. Killing is a tiring business.<br> As when l got Teacher's first letter, i felt jumpy and restless. Walking to my window, l watched the glittering lights of Borusi twinkle before my eyes. What if l hadn't been an assassin? What if my parents hadn't died? I would probably be a normal older teen boy, loitering on street corners, whistling at passing girls. Studying for exams. Getting ready to spread my wings in the real world, where l could be a senator or a government official. Ironically, those were the people l killed. I lay down in bed and closed my eyes...<p> A little boy is running up a dark alleyway, dodging garbage cans and old wooden packing crates. Rats squeal and run freely across his path. The little boy is crying, his good clothes smeared with grime. His pale skin and spiky dark hair are recognizable.<p> It's me.<p> I look only eight or nine. I'm running, running and crying. I collapse, panting.<br> A man comes in, leather bootsteps echoing on the concrete. He is huge, a giant, with shoulder-length tangled gray hair and a tattered cloak. His face is creased and gentle.<br> "Shhhh..."<br> I bury my face in his shoulder. He scoops me up.<br> "What's yer name?" He asked gruffly. "I'll get yeh home."<br> "Sammy," l told him, my black eyes looking into his. "M-my parents are dead. Nobody wants me." An edge of contempt crept into my childish voice then. "Mammy and Pappy's friends say they don't want me. They don't want to care for me."<br> The man nodded knowingly. "I see. Well, my name is Grizz, and l can care for yeh. Do you want to learn how to hurt the people that wouldn't help yeh?"<br> "Yes," l whispered firmly.<br> "Alright. But l gotta give yeh a new name. Sammy won't do. Yehr new name will be Shade."