A Walk In The Park . . .

This was a writing exercise that we took part in the other week.  The phrase given was 'A Walk in the Park', and this was I produced within the ten minutes we were given.

Enjoy.

A Walk In The Park

"Once you've done it a couple of times," they said, "it will become easy.  The weapon will become like an extension of your body, of your being.  You will disassociate yourself with any emotional implications that often follow such tasks.  You will feel nothing, you will be numb.  It will be like a walk in the park."

Of course it's easy to say these things, easy to imagine.  People who fantasise about such things fall in love with the power it can give them, the prospect of money, of stealth, mystery and travel - but yet put them in this very spot and I bet they feel as I am now.

I press my finger gently on the trigger, not enough to let the round off, but enough to stop myself from trembling.

The life of an assassin promised me everything I had dreamed of.  I had spent months training with a firm that fails to exist in the eyes of the public, a firm that can track you down within minutes, no matter where in the world you are, and a firm who will quickly and brutally put things right if you mess up.  

Yes, the fantasies of being an assassin are delicious, but in real life it's not so easy, it's not just a walk in the park - as my target is about to realise.  The street he's strolling through at the moment is heaving with people.  I hide at the distance, in the trees, waiting - and it's a wait that is allowing doubt to flood through.

I begin to wonder if my first kill will ever happen . . .