Black Silhoutte

November 12, 2009
The cheap motel room was pitch black and smelled of old rotten food. Bottles were thrown, scattered, and broken around the crunchy, littered floor. Las Vegas lights shined menacingly through the window, beads of sweat cascading down his neck. He kept thinking of that one unfaithful night that changed his life and hundreds of others. His hands shook like they would never stop. He heard the noise he was waiting for, a slow creek of the door shook the room and he closed his eyes waiting for the strike.

The murderer slowly crept through the halls undetected, and stopped at the puke green door. The man who ruined his life was behind this cheap piece of wood. He slowly pulled out his sharp glistening weapon and turned the stolen key in the hole with a sick smile on his sunken, hollow face.

Light flooded the room and a figure stood in the door, his silhouette tall and muscular against the yellow walls. The man stepped in the room and slowly closed the door. His feet moved mechanically as he approached his worried victim. Twenty years of prison he had to wait through for this very moment, and as soon as he was done, and the mess cleaned up he would run, just like old times. “Are you ready?” he asked in a low raspy voice, at that very moment sirens went off and shook the whole building.

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wishing4thebest2day said...
Dec. 16, 2009 at 8:31 am
Short, but sweet, but good. Amazing job!
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