Hello to all in the writer's forum! I'm new here and this is my first post. I had a dream this morning exactly like this scene..*gasp* could it have been my past life? But I thought it would be interesting to see where the tale goes. Please review them..Thanks! And Adam should have won...uhu
The mother of two sat screaming in the dark, damp alley. Ms. Frieda, in a pinstripe coat and a matching skirt well above her knee, looked at the woman of 42 and racked her semi-automatic Polish WIST-94. The woman was clutching onto her young son and daughter. He was three and she was four and three quarters. The children stood whimpering beside her. Her daughter crouched and wiped the tears of her mother. The boy was crying in sobs; afraid of everything, but was not able to comprehend his surrounding.
“Bang! Bang!”
Two shots were heard in the distance. The night crawlers in the streets of Toulouse scattered away like flies shooed from their feast. Santiago broke into a run and minutes later, he was there on the site of murder.
The mother still stood clutching her babies, but now she was to be quite dead. The toddler lay motionless beside her. Frieda took another aim on the last of the remaining life. It was then when he noticed a shadow and a hint of movement. The little girl looked up fearfully, eyes lashing between Frieda and Santiago; her wet fringe hanged sloppily on her forehead. She wasn’t crying, rather, she was whispering to her mother.
“Maman, s'est reveille..”
Frieda was about to pull the trigger when Santiago shouted:
“Stop! Para el amor de Dios! Don’t shoot her!”
Frieda cocked her head mockingly at Santiago; her right hand held still the pistol onto the girl.
“What? This poor thing? We’ve already had our orders, Santiago. They’ve seen the last assassination. They know too much. Besides, why trouble a young thing of its life of misery and horror? It is the right thing to do; to send her to her mother and brother...and perhaps her father too..” Frieda rambled with a thick accent, flirtatiously showing off her figure bathed in moonlight. She looked back at the little girl, who now had stopped its whimper. The poor child watched the two of them talking, but the words didn’t really make sense to her. Her fear was escalating every minute; her breathing became sharp and heavy. Was she crying?
“No, Frieda. You can’t. She’s only a little girl. I’ve had enough. Just this once, Frie, let her go. I’ll take her” Santiago paused, breathing in after the run.
.“Ow.. Santi, I never thought you would soften up in the business..what happened to you? Never mind, I’ll give you the honour here. I will forget you ever said that. Here.”
Frieda handed the gun over to Santiago. Santiago stared at the semi-automatic, his last thought bent on returning back to his old self. He wrestled his mind and gaze away and it landed on the little girl. She had stood up so suddenly, pulling her lifeless mother’s hand with her.
“Le carrousel, maman, Veuillez.. puis-je aller?” She tugged at her mother’s hand and pointed at the distance. She was smiling eeriely as she looked at the imaginary carousel. It was as if the shooting never had happen. Suddenly, she dropped it and laid both her palms to her ears.
“Maman! Où êtes-vous? Pourquoi n'a u laissez-moi?!” She screamed.
Frieda gazed sadly at the little girl and back to Santiago.
“Hurry, you can’t be here for long.”
Santiago nodded and bounded to the little girl.
“C'est ok. Ça va. Maman va venir. Allons-y!,”
The girl was sobbing; unaware of her dead mother and brother beside her. Santiago glanced at the two bodies, took out his jacket and wrapped it on the little girl. Santiago looked grimly at Frieda; a nod of understanding between them. Frieda slid the pistol into her coat and ruffled her luscious hair. She looked at Santiago, once partner, but now will be lost forever. He will disappear; she will forget him. Once again she had to stand beside the organization, like the loyal employee she had always been. She sighed and took in the last image of Santiago. He was muscular but gentle. His T-shirt had became drenched in sweat; showing off his lean body. His wavy hair was at shoulder’s length and it was brunette. He had grown into stubble since his last assignment three days ago. But something had happened along the way. Frieda knew her partner better than he did. He was never the sappy kind who hated the sight of blood and wanted to get it over quick and easy. No, he was not like Tony; an excellent marksmen on Type 97 Sniper Rifle. No, quick and easy wasn’t his way. He was brutal at times, but he had always been professional about his job. All the flirting had never led anywhere either.
“Something did happen.” Frieda turned towards the lunar light.
“What?” Santiago replied.
“Santi, something happened on your last assignment. What? What did?” Frieda gave a sideways glance.
“Frie, shield yourself. I’m coming.”
Frieda barely raised her arm when he clubbed her with his fist behind her neck. She laid on the streets that were silent witnesses to the crimes.
“I am very sorry, Frieda.”
He lifted the little girl and left; not knowing where to go or hide but one thing was sure; he must keep her alive. Until...
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