Young Writers Society

hope you like it

It was a warm summer day. The sun beamed down scorching the people of London. A massive building stood out from the rest, it had big red letters on the side of it, which read, LAS. Nobody has ever discovered what they stood for. Inside the building there were approximately sixty three floors, at the very top there was a meeting being held. Inside it was lit by bright blue neon lights and was a dozen seats. The meeting was being run by a bulky man with long black hair and a really screwed up nose. To the left of him was a skinny Chinese woman who had long black hair and wore a long red leather jacket.

“Well we all know why where here so let’s begin shall we. As you all know there is a certain child who when turns fourteen, will unleash a monster so evil, hell itself flees from it. Now this child will turn fourteen in exactly seven months, nine days and thirty six hours. So the question is what do we do. Well first things first the boy is and will be the only ever child we will assassinate, due to the current circumstances we have no choice but to eliminate him. Now the question is what one of you scumbags has the stone heart to kill a child.” Asked the man.

“I’ll do it.” Said a cold voice

The voice came from an American man who was new to the orginisation.

“ Ah Jack, so you feel your up to the job, do you, let me guess, you want to prove yourself, am I correct.” Replied the man

“ yes boss.” Answered jack.

Well there’s no time to lose so lets discuss the terms of engagement, what weapon will you use.”

James was walking home after another crap day at school. He had tons of homework, and was already behind in work, he wondered to himself, where do people get all this time from. There just isn’t enough time in the day he thought. He walked for twenty minutes when he heard a familiar voice. Bill. James turned to face him but wasn’t surprised to find a gang of yobs facing him. James smiled then turned to walk away, but someone grabbed him by the neck and dragged him into a dark ally way. Bill grabbed him by his collar and chucked him against the wall. James sprang to his feet and lunged at Bill, his fist smashing hard into his face. Bill was off guard and toppled over. James went to turn away, when something glinted in the darkness, he turned in horror as Bill waved Swiss army knife in front of James’s face. Bill’s face was lit with hatred and madness, he was completely bonkers. James backed away only to find himself backing into a dead end.

When suddenly one of the gang said “hey Bill let’s just beat the crap out of him, no knifes, I don’t won’t murder on my hands ok.” Asked one of the lads.

Bill went nuts, and lunged at the boy. The knife plunged deep into his stomach, the boy gasped for air as fell to the ground. The boys screamed in horror and ran for it. It was just James, mad Bill and a dying boy. James ran towards the boy but Bill blocked his path. Bill raised his hand to smack James, but James used this as a perfect opportunity, James kicked bill in the nuts and made a grab for the knife, the knife flew out of Bill’s hand and clattered to the floor. James finished him off with a strong punch to the head. Bill was out cold. James ran to the bleeding boy and placed his hand over the boy’s neck feeling for a pulse. He was too late. The boy was gone. James’s jumped to his feet and ran for it. Tears began to form in his eyes; surely a thirteen year old shouldn’t have to go through this.

Elsewhere….

Jack kneeled down; he was on a building directly south of where James was. He took his back pack off and tipped out its contents. He grabbed a black metal thing; it looked like a handle for something. After a minute it was ready. Jack lied down on his belly and peered through the Sniper Rifles scope. James was sat on the curb crying and covered in blood.

The cross hair was directly aimed at James’s chest. Jack’s finger wrapped round the trigger. Jack pulled. The bullet plunged into James’s chest. James fell sideways his vision going blurry, sound slowly going. Darkness taking him.