B
Black Dahlia
Guest
Creed
This is a short story I wrote, because I was having writer's block as far as my fanfiction goes...to some of you, the scenario may be very familiar. You can guess what it's from, if you'd like, lol. Enjoy!
Creed
Patience. That is the first word I ever heard out of my master’s mouth. “If you can’t have that, then I am wasting my precious time,” he had said, even before he had introduced himself. But patience does not come easily, no matter how much you want it to, even for people such as myself.
Despite that, it is patience that keeps me here, waiting, waiting, waiting for the right moment. Like so many akin to me, I linger like a hawk, letting my prey come to me, never rushing, only waiting. I will stand here for as long as I need to, not leaving to eat, to drink, to sleep, until my duty has been done. Such is my life, and such it will be until the day I die or am killed.
Stealth. That is the second thing my master told me. “You are no good if you can be discovered,” he had admonished. Yet like patience, stealth is hard to come by in this world. Humans were not meant to disappear from view, to hide in the shadows and be shielded from others’ eyes. At least, that is what the common folk think. But for my kind, it is our way of life, and we feel naked without it. Stealth is what keeps us alive, and what brings us closer to our prey. With it, we are hidden from prying eyes, from those who wish to harm us. Stealth is what brought me to the place I now stand, without a soul knowing that I am here, waiting, and watching.
Agility. That is the third and final thing my master informed me of. “It does no good if your prey can escape from you.” Of all the skills my kind need, agility is the most difficult to attain. Learning to strike in the blink of an eye, and disappear just as fast, is something that only the elites, such as myself, can accomplish. Those who are slow suffer, for they are the ones caught in the act, whatever it way be. It is agility that aids us when things get ugly, that helps us escape in desperate times. More than once, it has saved me, but many more times than that has it helped me accomplish what I set out to do.
Patience, stealth, and agility. It is these three things that have guided me through my life and made me who I am. Oh, there are many others that help too. You cannot be patient without intelligence, stealthy without strength, or agile without guile. And even still, there are more skills, more attributes that help me. But it is these three things that assist me now, as I stand at the top of this church tower, silently mapping out the town around me, lying in wait for my prey, and the perfect moment to strike them. So hawk-like am I, perched on the tower, that to the people below, it seems like that’s all I am. A hawk. A sharp eyed predator, ready to swoop down and claim my prize.
Suddenly, there is a change in the wind. The familiar bustle of the townsfolk has fallen silent, for now in their midst, sitting proudly on a black stallion, is the Commander, head of all militant activity in this land. He stops in front of a stage, where several gallows stand, limp corpses hanging from them. Dismounting his horse, he steps proudly up onto the stage, all eyes on him. Strutting back and forth, motioning to the bodies, he begins his speech, yelling passionately to the crowd. Immediately, there is an uproar. The men bellow, shaking their fists in the air. The women weep, the children burying their faces in their mothers’ skirts. Nonetheless, the Commander continues on. Several guards step up onto the stage, while others hold the crowd back. And then, from behind me, the church bell tolls. Its sound resonates loudly, and yet the crowd pays it no mind. But for me, it is my indication that the time is right. Swift as is possible, I crawl down the tower, finally leaping to the ground, ever silent as a shadow. No one notices me land, so quiet am I. Even over the roar of the crowd, I can hear the commander, calling out to them. Again, the church bell rings, this time far above me. Stealthily, I begin to force my way through the crowd, gently pushing people out of my way. Still, they pay no mind. Closer, ever closer, do I get to my target. As my excitement grows, I begin to more forcefully push people out of the way, shoving them so hard they nearly fall. And yet still, they think I am nothing but a commoner who has gotten carried away. Finally, I arrive at the front of the crowd, jogging now towards my prey.
In the blink of an eye, I snatch my pre loaded crossbow, firing it at the first guard. With a cry of pain, he collapses, but does not die. The second guard swings at me with his broadsword, but I dodge it, knocking him backwards with my bow. Now, there is no one and nothing stopping me from striking my prey. Using the guard’s body as a vault, I leap into the air, unsheathing my razor sharp dagger. Before the Commander can even pull out his sword, I fall upon him, plunging the blade into his unprotected neck. He tumbles to the ground, his weapon falling from limp hands. I pause for a moment to gaze at his grim face, but then my sharp ears catch the sound of one of the guards struggling to their feet. With a cry of rage, he sees me crouched on top of the Commander, and raises his sword, poised to strike. With lightning quick reflexes, I bolt, bounding off the stage and tearing down a side alley, shoving people out of the way as I go along.
Without warning, another guard appears in front of me, drawing his blade. With as much effort as I can muster, I jump up onto a ledge on the side of a building, scrambling up the wall as fast as I can. Heaving myself up onto the flat roof, I scan my surroundings, plotting my next move. Ahead of me, only a few houses over, stands another cathedral. Remembering the church bell tolls, I knew that if I timed everything right, I might just be able to escape. Breaking into a run, I take another leap and soar to the next roof, while below, the guards run along, trying to catch up with me. Again, I fly to the following roof. The only thing that now stands ahead of me is the magnificent cathedral. Holding my breath, I launch myself off of the building, spreading my arms in a hawk-like way, before crashing down upon a hapless guard, breaking my fall. Without hesitating, I pull myself up and run to the church’s entrance, slowing turning around to face the guards, a mocking smile on my face. With a loud clunk, the heavy wooden doors of the church open, and several monks, all dressed in black robes like mine, with heavy hoods covering their features, stroll slowly out, hands help in a prayerful position. They surround me, clearly mistaking me for one of their own, and silently, I allow myself to be hidden by them. Desperately, the guards search in vain, jostling the monks in their attempt to locate me. As soundless as ever, I slip away from the group, carefully walking away from the guards and back the way I came.
As the sun sets, I melt into the shadows, smiling a cold, haunted smile, just for myself. It was nothing but another successful job done, another life taken. After all, what’s one life, more or less, when you’re an assassin?
This is a short story I wrote, because I was having writer's block as far as my fanfiction goes...to some of you, the scenario may be very familiar. You can guess what it's from, if you'd like, lol. Enjoy!
Creed
Patience. That is the first word I ever heard out of my master’s mouth. “If you can’t have that, then I am wasting my precious time,” he had said, even before he had introduced himself. But patience does not come easily, no matter how much you want it to, even for people such as myself.
Despite that, it is patience that keeps me here, waiting, waiting, waiting for the right moment. Like so many akin to me, I linger like a hawk, letting my prey come to me, never rushing, only waiting. I will stand here for as long as I need to, not leaving to eat, to drink, to sleep, until my duty has been done. Such is my life, and such it will be until the day I die or am killed.
Stealth. That is the second thing my master told me. “You are no good if you can be discovered,” he had admonished. Yet like patience, stealth is hard to come by in this world. Humans were not meant to disappear from view, to hide in the shadows and be shielded from others’ eyes. At least, that is what the common folk think. But for my kind, it is our way of life, and we feel naked without it. Stealth is what keeps us alive, and what brings us closer to our prey. With it, we are hidden from prying eyes, from those who wish to harm us. Stealth is what brought me to the place I now stand, without a soul knowing that I am here, waiting, and watching.
Agility. That is the third and final thing my master informed me of. “It does no good if your prey can escape from you.” Of all the skills my kind need, agility is the most difficult to attain. Learning to strike in the blink of an eye, and disappear just as fast, is something that only the elites, such as myself, can accomplish. Those who are slow suffer, for they are the ones caught in the act, whatever it way be. It is agility that aids us when things get ugly, that helps us escape in desperate times. More than once, it has saved me, but many more times than that has it helped me accomplish what I set out to do.
Patience, stealth, and agility. It is these three things that have guided me through my life and made me who I am. Oh, there are many others that help too. You cannot be patient without intelligence, stealthy without strength, or agile without guile. And even still, there are more skills, more attributes that help me. But it is these three things that assist me now, as I stand at the top of this church tower, silently mapping out the town around me, lying in wait for my prey, and the perfect moment to strike them. So hawk-like am I, perched on the tower, that to the people below, it seems like that’s all I am. A hawk. A sharp eyed predator, ready to swoop down and claim my prize.
Suddenly, there is a change in the wind. The familiar bustle of the townsfolk has fallen silent, for now in their midst, sitting proudly on a black stallion, is the Commander, head of all militant activity in this land. He stops in front of a stage, where several gallows stand, limp corpses hanging from them. Dismounting his horse, he steps proudly up onto the stage, all eyes on him. Strutting back and forth, motioning to the bodies, he begins his speech, yelling passionately to the crowd. Immediately, there is an uproar. The men bellow, shaking their fists in the air. The women weep, the children burying their faces in their mothers’ skirts. Nonetheless, the Commander continues on. Several guards step up onto the stage, while others hold the crowd back. And then, from behind me, the church bell tolls. Its sound resonates loudly, and yet the crowd pays it no mind. But for me, it is my indication that the time is right. Swift as is possible, I crawl down the tower, finally leaping to the ground, ever silent as a shadow. No one notices me land, so quiet am I. Even over the roar of the crowd, I can hear the commander, calling out to them. Again, the church bell rings, this time far above me. Stealthily, I begin to force my way through the crowd, gently pushing people out of my way. Still, they pay no mind. Closer, ever closer, do I get to my target. As my excitement grows, I begin to more forcefully push people out of the way, shoving them so hard they nearly fall. And yet still, they think I am nothing but a commoner who has gotten carried away. Finally, I arrive at the front of the crowd, jogging now towards my prey.
In the blink of an eye, I snatch my pre loaded crossbow, firing it at the first guard. With a cry of pain, he collapses, but does not die. The second guard swings at me with his broadsword, but I dodge it, knocking him backwards with my bow. Now, there is no one and nothing stopping me from striking my prey. Using the guard’s body as a vault, I leap into the air, unsheathing my razor sharp dagger. Before the Commander can even pull out his sword, I fall upon him, plunging the blade into his unprotected neck. He tumbles to the ground, his weapon falling from limp hands. I pause for a moment to gaze at his grim face, but then my sharp ears catch the sound of one of the guards struggling to their feet. With a cry of rage, he sees me crouched on top of the Commander, and raises his sword, poised to strike. With lightning quick reflexes, I bolt, bounding off the stage and tearing down a side alley, shoving people out of the way as I go along.
Without warning, another guard appears in front of me, drawing his blade. With as much effort as I can muster, I jump up onto a ledge on the side of a building, scrambling up the wall as fast as I can. Heaving myself up onto the flat roof, I scan my surroundings, plotting my next move. Ahead of me, only a few houses over, stands another cathedral. Remembering the church bell tolls, I knew that if I timed everything right, I might just be able to escape. Breaking into a run, I take another leap and soar to the next roof, while below, the guards run along, trying to catch up with me. Again, I fly to the following roof. The only thing that now stands ahead of me is the magnificent cathedral. Holding my breath, I launch myself off of the building, spreading my arms in a hawk-like way, before crashing down upon a hapless guard, breaking my fall. Without hesitating, I pull myself up and run to the church’s entrance, slowing turning around to face the guards, a mocking smile on my face. With a loud clunk, the heavy wooden doors of the church open, and several monks, all dressed in black robes like mine, with heavy hoods covering their features, stroll slowly out, hands help in a prayerful position. They surround me, clearly mistaking me for one of their own, and silently, I allow myself to be hidden by them. Desperately, the guards search in vain, jostling the monks in their attempt to locate me. As soundless as ever, I slip away from the group, carefully walking away from the guards and back the way I came.
As the sun sets, I melt into the shadows, smiling a cold, haunted smile, just for myself. It was nothing but another successful job done, another life taken. After all, what’s one life, more or less, when you’re an assassin?
