The Wind | Teen Ink

The Wind

November 16, 2009
By lilylou15255 BRONZE, Lake Oswego, Oregon
lilylou15255 BRONZE, Lake Oswego, Oregon
1 article 0 photos 0 comments

Favorite Quote:
"rudeness is a weak man's imitation of strength."- hoffer


The wind whipped up, sending the hairs on the back of their necks upright, just as the magical revolving door opened, but nothing magical came out. He through his hands up in anger like a Greek man scolding his child for spilled milk. The man in the suit just continued walking with a quickening pace, ignoring the man yelling to his left, the wind was back. As they crossed the street coming nearer I really got my first real look at him, sizing him up; hazel brown coat with a black suit underneath, his eyes were black beady prunes dried to the core with eyelashes. I hoped had not slept in weeks, going over and over in his mind what he had done, and it was him and only him who did it, he hired me, but I was here for him now, coming back.

I, Jonny Freeman was the hit man hired to kill a man for him, hired to take away someone’s son, husband, and friend. You could call me cold blooded but everyone has ways of providing for their family, I fell into mine. Our last meeting I was blindfolded but knew where I was, they didn’t want me to see the boss, his henchmen punched me over and over, finally letting me topple to the ground like a bug they had just killed. At last they sent me on my way with a folder and very specific instruction not to open until I was in my car and gone. Inside was a picture of the back of his head, a brief description and a when and where he would be tonight.
A new wave of rage swept over me, I got out of the car ready to kill him here and now for what he had me do, but who was this man with him arguing, I couldn’t kill in broad daylight. I got back in my rusted car letting my legs stick back to the pleather. As I sat there I pondered the ideas of how to confront him, yell, run, shoot? I did not have much more time to think when a police man knocked on my window and informed me I was parked in a fire zone, reluctantly I drove away, eyeing them through my rearview mirror, I let a tear slip, not out of sadness but of the fact that I didn’t punish him when I was so close.

The person in the picture, merely a boy, six and a half feet, brown hair, was my son, and spitting image. I didn’t see him, but I guess I did but did not know it was him, from the back he is just so common I could not have known. But now I know, and I know what to I was going to get him the same way he got me, in the heart, and that is where ill stab him. Just thinking of this made me smile like kid on Christmas but the question of who that man arguing with him was just kept creeping back into my mind like it was the key to my revenge, I let it go scolding myself for getting old. I planed it to happened that night, I had received intel that his wife and kids were spending the weekend skiing and he would be alone at his countryside estate; perfect.
The night was cold when the wind came back, sweeping across my scarlet nose in a whooping fashion, whisking up only the top layer of hair on my pre-maturely balding head. I let out a small grunt as I hoisted myself of the unmanned gate; wondering where the guards were I continued on, hesitantly. When the door was unlocked I knew he was waiting for me, waiting for me to crumple in front of him and ask for forgiveness for betraying him, but not this time; this time it will he him the police find in the morning blanketed by his own blood.

But when I entered into his study I saw him, saw him in all his glory, I was the only one to truly saw him for what he was, a coward. Standing before me was Buddy Vascaolos, mob boss, surrounded by easily twenty men, and the guy that I saw him with earlier today, arguing with him only now he was wearing all black and holding an AK47, aimed at me!
“Nice of you to join us.” He sneered.
I just stood with my chin held a little higher and spat at his Italian leather shoes hoping I had ruined them.
“Now can’t we all just be professional about this, I hired you to kill you son because his police unit was getting to close to my drug cartel, But what you didn’t know was that it was your son; Perfect right? But my perfect plan to get you killed after you found out wasn’t even made until you went out trying to get me back, so I gave you false assumptions.” He paused as if to let me digest this news.
“I had this guy” he jerked his thumb back to the man he had argued with “argue with me to get you to think I felt remorse for you and your family, when really I was just trying to get you here. And we all see how well that worked out, now don’t we. But now it is time for you to say your final goodbyes before we shoot you to death.”
“Coward!” I yelled so loud I hopped he would hear it in his dreams.
“Well if that is all I think we should begin…”
I did not let him finish for by now I had drawn a small knife and was holding it for all to see.
“Do you really expect to kill of us with a steak knife?” he snickered; even a few of his men cracked an evil smile.
“I am going to be with my son.” And with one foul swoop I had killed myself. It was not unexpected, I had actually not expected to make it out of there alive, so I wired the building with c-4 to insure they would not make it out either.


The author's comments:
well i didn't actually plan to write this piece but i was with a friend and we had seen this really creeping looking man and he inspired the hit man in my story and the story itself.

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This article has 1 comment.


on Dec. 16 2009 at 12:26 pm
vampiresrock GOLD, Cornish, New Hampshire
12 articles 0 photos 92 comments

Favorite Quote:
When life gives you oranges, make grape juice and sit back and let the world wounder how the hell you just did that.

Good.....Good.....Defeninatly creepy! Good job! :)