Shadow Of An Assassin
There is very uncomfortable reality about the world that I live in.
As an assassin.
A killer of men for money.
For an attention seeker like me.
There is no glory.
I have to live on the streets like a peasant and a beggar.
The price of being a slayer and death bringer to the enemies of my employers is a land of loneliness no matter how high the bounty.
Where is one to spend blood money?
So it is all given away, or burned up in frivolous celebrations, off the books, in the black markets.
Never a dime to be seen by the legitimate world where the superficial laws reign.
The low life that I have to live just to remain out of the prisons.
It is nothing like in the cinema.
I have no fancy home or clothes.
No celebrity or fanfare.
No glory, just gory.
And it is only a half freedom.
Because those who hire my services hold over my head the evidence of my bloody reign of blood; the trail of death that I drag behind me like a red flag drenched in spilled life.
And how am I to kill them all?
Just to cover my tracks?
For the only thing I ever knew how to do well is something that is not well for those I do it to.
And it is not a thing I can walk away from.
I live by sword, gun, and the grave.
And this is all my life is to be.
I have no nightmares of my victims last screams, because they never scream.
No one ever knows I am coming.
They go out of this world as if they slipped into a dream that they never awoke from.
Not one nightmare.
Just the peaceful sleep of forevermore.
And I have no tears to shed.
No remorse for the dead.
Whether I impale their hearts or take their heads…
No one was filled with dread.
There is only silence instead.
As I sleep in peace, I know one day I shall rest in peace.
And no one will ever know my story.
For it shall never see the light of day.
it will always be the shadow of an assassin.
Obscured in the pages and between the lines of the SwordPaper
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