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By CGettins All Rights Reserved ©

Fantasy / Action


The rain pelted Katelyn as she ran, soaking her to the skin and plastering her raven hair to her face.

Ahead, the lights of the New Orleans Garden District began to come on one by one as the sky grew darker and all the familiar scents of home came rushing back to her, seeming to be amplified by the rain.

Almost there, she thought. If she could just make it to her father’s house, her family could protect her.

She chanced a look over her shoulder at the pursuer and felt her breath constrict. There it was, the masked figure, strolling casually along after her as though this were only a game to it. Katelyn was running as fast as she could but the figure seemed to be gaining rapidly.

Something thudded into the small of her back and Katelyn dropped like a stone, crying out as she skinned her hands on the Third Street sidewalk. She tried to get up, fighting against the white hot pain that was spreading through her back, willing desperately for somebody to come along, anybody who could help her. Blind panic set in as her legs refused to move. She tried and tried but they just lay there, limp. Desperately Katelyn struggled to drag herself along, clawing at the cracked concrete below her, but the footsteps still approached. A pair of black biker boots stopped next to her and she felt the wind go out of her as she was kicked, forcing her otherwise unresponsive body to roll over.

Katelyn blinked up through the warm, summer rain at the barrel of the gun pointed at her, recognition hitting her as she spied the ring that adorned the finger which was so casually resting on the trigger.

“They sent you, then,” she breathed, trying in vain to disguise her fear.

“I asked,” the figure replied, it’s softly accented voice low against the mask. “We were friends once, I couldn’t let anybody else do this.”

“Please,” Katelyn begged, “I have a family.”

“You broke our laws, this is out of my hands.” The figure sounded almost apologetic as it crouched down and placed a small metal disc on Katelyn’s chest. “I promise they will be taken care of.”

“Please, I don’t want them to know anything of our world. Give me that one thing.”The figure straightened up, not seeming to hear her. Katelyn opened her mouth to say more but the trigger finger squeezed, the movement so delicate that it was barely noticeable. The silencer dampened the sound of the shot as the bullet passed through Katelyn’s skull and lodged in the ground below. The figure lowered the gun with a sigh and pulled out a small, disposable phone, dialling 911.

“Hello?” it said with a thick Southern accent as someone answered, the voice now full of feigned panic and despair,“I need the police. Someone’s been mugged on the corner of Third and Chestnut, I think they’ve been shot. My name? Yes, of course, my name is...” The figure dropped the phone and fired two shots into the centre of the screen, shattering it beyond repair before walking away.

The rain continued to fall, oblivious, on the body of Katelyn West, the only sounds that could be heard were the encroaching police sirens and the distant roar of a motorbike.

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