The Assassin's Journal, By Noah Saunders
The Assassin's Journal, By Noah Saunders mystery stories
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noah_saunders Community member
Autoplay OFF   •   a month ago
Just an idea for a new story. I'm trying out a new writing style with this one, let me know how you like it!

The Assassin's Journal, By Noah Saunders


"I know, that despite all of the fake news claiming I am a lying, racist, misogynistic rapist, I have the support of this country backing me as I enter my second term as president.

"I would also like to note that all of the women at my campaigns presented highly flirtatious behaviour towards me, which, of course, is to be expect-"

The newly re-elected president's speech ended abruptly as a single shot rang through the night.

All that was heard was a deep voice booming clearly through the crisp autumn air;

"In their worst nightmare."

And the crowd erupted in screams.


Security swarmed the perimeter, and sirens wailed in the distance as I silently stalked away from my perch. I had to admit to myself- the hundred-meter shot was rather impressive. A 50 Cal. Through the head could shut up the strongest of men, never mind fat, rich fools.

I turned up the collar of my black trench coat as I approached the run-off drain that would be my escape route.

With my customized low-profile Barrett M95 strapped between my ballistic vest and my jacket, headfirst I entered the four-foot crawl space. I was welcomed by the musky odour of mould and mildew.

From my pocket, I drew a small flashlight and placed it between my teeth. Ignoring the sense of claustrophobia that threatened to entomb me, I proceeded through the tunnel on all fours.

For what to lesser individuals would have felt like hours, I crawled.

In what I knew to be about ten minutes, I emerged into a chamber, about five feet tall by three feet wide.

The only sounds were my own breath and the occasional drip. I stood as tall as the small space permitted, and shone my light upwards.

I was at the bottom of a manhole, just as I had intended. That meant freedom was only about eight feet above me.

Checking that my equipment was securely strapped to my body, I began to climb the rusted rungs that were drilled into the concrete tube.

The corroded iron felt rough beneath my gloves, and the round tunnel narrowed to about three feet in diameter.

When I reached the top, I pushed against the heavy cover of the service hole, lifting it just enough to check my surroundings.

Fresh air teased my lungs as I peered out of the opening. The sound of sirens in the distance disturbed the otherwise silent night.

Seeing no one, I carefully set aside the iron lid and climbed out my hiding space. I quickly replaced the cover before straightening and allowing myself a breath. I knew that I couldn't have lost my way, but it was still a relief to leave the coffin-like tunnels behind.

I had arrived in the park, just as I had intended. Brushing off my clothes, I started towards the black Jaguar I had parked a block away. ***

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