My life is anything but normal. Then who's is. To get through this life I try to see the funny side of things. This is not a political commentary. My cardiologist says I need to avoid stress. Beside dealing with the government has taught me to curse like a sailor, and I'm trying to clean up my act. Oh if your trying to practice for the spelling bee, don't count on my help, I'm a horrible speller. THANK GOD for spell check. Now, if I would remember to use it.
Here is another short story for character development. We were asked to develop a character by choosing a method we either haven't used or have used the least.
So here is my story. Let me know what you think.
Ice Cold Killer...
The tall amazonian blond walked in the
door, her short red dress drawing an admiring glance to her figure
and long legs. Her ice blue eyes searched the dimly lit club until
she spotted her prey sitting in the back corner. Quickly scanning
area around him she easily spotted his muscle-bound guard dogs in
their black suits with conspicuous bulges. A small scornful smile
turned up the corners her red lips as she saw Liam and his men
checking her out. “This is going to be easier than I thought”
She made her way to the bar and
ordered a Margarita on the rocks, she would have preferred straight
Tequila, but she need a clear head. These preppy bars always watered
down their mixed drinks so she could drink all night if she had to.
She turned around on her bar-stool and studied Liam Williams. She knew
him by reputation but had never meet him and that's why his bosses
hired her. He would never see her coming. His file was in her purse,
but she could recall what it said. Dark-haired man in his early 30s,
married with 3 kids, mother still living. He goes to visit her at the
Sullivan nursing home everyday at 10 in the morning. Spends most
nights at the Culture Club on 8th street. Looking at him she could
also tell he was a narcissistic middle man with dreams above his
station. If he hadn't been here tonight she would have had to catch
him at the nursing home tomorrow. He was due to testify before the
grand jury at 9am on Friday. The burner phone in her purse lit up to
show another urgent text, she had no idea what Liam knew but it sure
was making the wrong people nervous. That was the 3rd text she had
received since 5 o'clock this evening. “Their going to have a
nervous break-down if they don't calm down. They know I always finish
what I say I'll do. That's why they pay me the big bucks.” she
mumbled to herself.
Through the flashing lights and
cigarette smoke she saw Liam and his entourage making their way to
the dance floor. She palmed the small atomizer of cyanide solution
and made her way to the floor. She danced her way over to Liam, and
pretend to stumble. She apologized purposely slurring her words and
sprayed him quickly in the face as she pretended to hang on for
balance. One of his bodyguards helped her off the floor and back to
the bar, to make sure she would be okay. When he headed back to his
boss, she collected her purse and headed for the door. As she left,
the door was closing behind her, she heard a scream and a yell “Call
911 he's having a heart attack.”
She hailed a cab and climbed in the
back. She sent the text: 'DONE' smiled and threw the phone out the
window. She leaned back against the seat of the cab humming to
herself. The other $50 thousand would be in her account by morning.