Payback - A Short Story

PAYBACK

Night had fallen fast upon the land. No more than an hour ago the sky was painted with hues of red, orange and pink, but all colour had faded leaving only a matt black canvas with no stars to be looked upon. The darkness was thick and the torch he carried in his right hand hardly lit his path, and the black mesh that covered his face only made his sight worse. The man, dressed in the black cloak he wore for each pernicious occasion, made his way into one of the most posh streets in the city of London.

He came to a stop in front of a particularly huge bungalow. Upon having ensured that no one was looking he creeped into the compound. A crooked smile played on his mouth. He had made it inside; the idiot hadn’t even bothered with security! He examined his surroundings. Darkness lurked behind each wall of the extravagant mansion, and ominousness engulfed the air completely. He was trembling with excitement, he had been waiting for so long to do this!

He creeped into a room which belonged to someone who used to be his friend. At the thought of The Traitor, his face showed complete abhorrence. He pulled the long, narrow dagger from the concealed pocket of his cloak as he looked down upon his sleeping victim. In the bed lay a young man, his face looking serene and peaceful, his nightshirt of high quality and expense, with gems sparkling on the silk cloth. The intruder smiled behind his, knowing it would be only a moment before the perfectly sharpened blade of his knife would strike his skull, tear through his flesh, and stab one of the most vital organs in the body. The act would leave him no time to wake nor scream. His lips curled into a sneer again, though this time at the thought of soaking The Traitor’s expensive nightshirt in a pool of dark red blood, the soft white silk being smeared with the thick liquid.

**His hands shook with excitement as he brought down the dagger, his expression similar to that of a madman's. His eyes watched every second of The Traitor’s death, savouring the moments until his last breaths. The bedsheets were drenched, along with The Traitor's nightshirt, which brought the intruder satisfaction. Blood dripped from the bed onto the wood floors, surrounding the killer's shoes. He made sure not to leave a single trace of evidence as he hurriedly left the place.

The next morning, as he picked up the newspaper, he saw the headlines,” London’s Richest Man Found Soaked in His Own Blood.” He smiled to himself; he had gotten his payback.

** Alternate murder description- Taking a long, deep breath, his eyes narrowed in on the man from behind his black mask, his muscles tensing, his heart racing. He swung his arm down, dagger in hand, and watched as it sliced into The Traitor's skull, the blood pouring almost instantly from the gash. Immediately, the man's eyes opened, but he continued thrusting the pointed knife into The Traitor's head. A faraway look formed in his eyes, but the man didn't stop. He continued violently and angrily stabbing at the dead body, watching as the blood flowed heavily from The Traitor's many wounds. His insanity was evident, and he knew it, but that simple fact was nothing to his need for killing.

Hey y'all! Please let me know what you think of it as it was my first story and I'd like to know whether you would want me to write more!

(Do let me know if you want me to write on any topic, or if you want me to write about any novel!)