Wiping my frost Cover the windows I watch the busy streets of Venice crowds of middle-class past my house I a hooded figure wearing a velvet coat as black as the night sky. Suddenly the hairs on the back of my neck stood up, like someone had just walked over my grave, I turned to light my now frozen candles, and there he was the hooded figure.
My only escape would be to fall off the balcony to my death or face the figure like a man.
it was fast cunning and skilled, it ran at me, fast as a bullet, I took a small step to the left to dodge its gleaming dagger but tripped over my small bed side table. by the time i had gotten up the figure was gone and so was my most prised possession.
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unknown
RandomA somewhat sense making story that's about an assassin... because why not :)
