The Killer : A Short Story 

Note: This is just work of fiction. 


The man walked into the kitchen. He saw nothing but a glass of water on the table. Being a hitman, he knew that no matter how weird somethings might be, he doesn’t have the rights to question anything simply because it was not a part of his job to do so. 

He went up the stairs, slowly, not to awaken anyone unnecessarily. The only thing he hated was to kill people he wasn’t supposed to. It’s not that he felt guilty, no. It’s because he wasn’t paid for ‘side kills’. Being raised in a family that doesn’t act like one, he never bothered with the fact that he’s killing a mother, a father or anyone of the same status. 

“Everyone does anyway,” he would say to himself as a form to justify his actions. Going to a religious school to become a priest he learned that when the time comes, death will arrive no matter what you do. He entered the master bedroom and was shocked to see that the bed was empty. He retreated, knowing that it was a trap. 

“I had waited 10 years for this,” a female voice said. He wanted to turn around but the gun that was pointed at his head prevented that. “That’s a stupid mistake,” he replied and dropped himself to the left side. The person behind him couldn’t react fast enough simply because she hadn’t expected him to do so. The bullet blinded her left eye but it didn’t matter cause she was already dead. 

The Killer cursed because of all things he had forgotten to place the silencer. Immediately, lights filled the dark house as everyone was awake. They didn’t live long enough to even pick up the phone to call the police. He made sure that he burned everything to prevent the cops from getting too informed about the life. 

The Killer walked away from the crime scene, smiling as his work for the day was now over. 

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