Mysteries of Life

The Clock Tower struck midnight, the echoing chime of the sound resonating through the sleeping town. All the citizens slept soundly in their beds, as stray dogs padded along the towns back alleys.

Suddenly; a whip-like cracking split the night, awakening sleeping birds, forcing them to flee into the night sky. The sound of a heavy boot hit the paved stone, followed by another, and another and another. Buckles clanged against one another as the stranger walked through the sleeping town. His emerald eyes emanated a dull green glow, as his long silver hair cascaded down his back. At his side hung a simple sword. No handguards, no hilt, just a handle and a blade. His pale skin appeared sinister in the darkness, the stars illuminated the towns streets.

The crescent moon witnessed these events, but stayed silent as though intimidated by some unseen force. The man continued to walk through the town, not stopping to read the signs that pointed out to residents where certain parts of town where. He didn't need them, he already knew where he was going. Approaching a local tavern, he entered. Not in the convential way, instead sprouting one solitary white wing and ascending into the sky. Landing soundlessly on the upper balcony of the Setting Sun tavern, he silently drew the blade. As though recognising this as important; the buckles upon his clothing stopped rattling, the boots didn't appear as heavy, and his breathing slowed to an absolute standstill. The mark was here alright.

As he walked quietly over floorboards, that would often creak if so much as a mouse ran over them, the man advanced towards the room at the end of this hallway. Bracing himself, as he would have to abandon stealth sooner or later, his right foot connected with the centre of the door sending it flying across to the other side of the room. Instantly a sleeping man awoke, saw the intruder with a drawn sword and naturally ran for his life. The intruder was too fast however, and leapt forward before embedding the simple sword into the victim's windpipe. Gasping for breath, and choking on his own blood, the man gurgled something at his murderer before falling silent and still; against the wall with a sword through his throat.

Drawing another blade the killer sighed, and spoke to himself in a sweet, smooth and deep voice.

"They always run; never just stay and fight. The thrills gone from this busi-"

But before he could finish his sentence, a crowd could suddenly be heard and the dim glow of lit torches appeared on the horizon.

"Or maybe I was wrong..." He corrected himself. Smirking, he approached the front window so that the mod could see him. Instantly bricks, stones and various rotten fruits and vegetables flew at him. Effortlessly holding his right arm out, he caught a brick and crushed it into dust in an instant. Spurred on by this show of strength, the mob charged at the entrance to the Setting Sun.

Running across the floorboards with a longer, more intricatly designed, sword in hand he ran onto the back balcony; extended his pure white wing and took flight. Flying towards the crescent moon hanging dismally in the sky, he knew that tomorrow would be another day; another assassination; another job. People will always have to die, but spend too much time avoiding death that they forget to live. It's people like this that are deemed unworthy of life by the assassins master, and are subsequently sentenced to death by his hand.

The silver haired assassin watched the crisis developing around him. Maybe the deaths of people close to them, will make people realise that they should be living life, not fearing it. If that was the case then; why did he run whenever he was caught? Why not just fight? Surely if it was his time to go, then it was his time? Was it to bring peace to the world, no matter how delusional the methods? Was it to please his master, so that some pride may be earned? Or maybe; just maybe; it was because it was his destiny.

Whatever the answer may be, he will continue his search for for it. In this life, or the next, he will know about his past.