Diary of an Assassin

my blood-shot eyes is a scare to anyone that beholds them; deeply set below my
forehead, narrowed to a meet point. two large nostrils which emit fire when i
breath and concave-shaped lips that never break into a smile. will never.

i can not remember ever been sober my entire life. blood of my victims runs down
my vein; i see their faces every night; their last facial espression, filled with fear
and horror. Always, do i pull just once on the trigger. unmasked i operate, for my
victims will never live to tell what i look like.

Marijuana clouds my conscience,
whiskey drowns my fear and my loneliness keeps away the human feeling.
how ever did i get this far? did it not start with the childish confraternity? an
asassin? would i have ever believed?

Tomorrow, senator Badamosi dies. in his hotel room number103 will he die, on a
prostitute. and i will leave through the open door of the generator house and ride
away in my getaway power bike, as instructed by my contractor. i usually plan my
own getaways..but not tomorrow, it all look good, the plan.
with a steady hand, i grasp my revolver, well oiled. tucked away somewhere..i
dont know yet.

Dressed in 'agbada' with a brown briefcase, he will walk past the receptionist, air
of a billionaire, steady and faultless. he will walk down the hallway into his
room102, discard the heavy clothing, pull open the suitcase for the revolver. get
rid of the fake moustache and become me.

He will walk out of the room with his head bowed to avoid the cctv cameras. The door to room 103 will be down with
just one kick and there he will be, my target. naked, on the poor little hustler. he
has done me no harm, but i really do not care, all i will think of is him dead. i have been paid. in full.

With mouth wide open, surprise on his face, trigger will be pulled once, shot will reverb a million times, blood will splatter on her, she will struggle with screams to get the dead man off her. and i will be nowhere to be found. Across the street, engine will revv, brought to live, the bike will speed off the
tarred road. down the low secured street i will drive down, just like i have been
instructed..to avoid the heavy military patrol.
heavy light will pour on me. to a stop will i pull, confused, headlamp of an
unknown vehicle directly in front of me. quick, hands to my gun, a shot will be
fired, another and then another.
on the floor will i collapse, heavy bike on me. drowning in my own pool of
blood...life flashing through my eyes. dark street; car is nowhere near sight. i will
gradually phase into black....i have been set up...tomorrow, i die!



Reginald chidera.