Maurice closed his left eye and peered through the little hole. His body was numb; it had been for some time, his mind completely detached from it like a separate being.
The ambers of his cigarette crackled; its noise deafening in the silence, punctured only by the workings of Maurice’s lungs sucking in long swags on the filterless nicotine tube.
People strolled by, joking, laughing, arguing; visible only through the hole that Maurice peered through. But Maurice knew them; knew their jokes, knew their lives. He was part of them; that hole gave him access; a peek into their existence. And he had to know them, after all, he was their god, at least, for the amount of time it took him to choose his target.
His finger was on the trigger, caressing the metal, now warm and soggy with sweat.
One man walked through the hole and Maurice’s breath faltered. The hole moved, following the man. He was tall, wore a long black coat, a hat, gloves and a smug look that only high-end executives wore, perched as they were above the rest of the world. It was him. Maurice’s heart told him that, the way it pumped faster, sending waves of hate around his numb body.
Maurice drew a long, deliberate breath on his cigarette and forced his chest still. He breathed in the nicotine, tasted its dry bitterness, felt it empowering his mind. His finger squeezed. There was no sound, not even a click, but the man, two hundred feet away, fell face forward on the sidewalk and became a corpse.
The challenge this week was to write a piece using the word Deliberate:
1: characterized by or resulting from careful and thorough consideration <a deliberate decision>
2: characterized by awareness of the consequences<deliberate falsehood>
3: slow, unhurried, and steady as though allowing time for decision on each individual action involved <a deliberate pace>
I did mine, and if you think this one’s dark, you’d never believe the one I had lined up before I pressed Publish!
Hope you like it.