Crossing The Boundaries

The sky was a pale shade of purple with streaks of orange nestling in between. The sun had barely broken over the horizon. The streets were dark and silent. Occasionally a cat would streak across the road like a phantom, breaking the stillness of the early morning.

It was barely even six in the morning, Mr. Leroy was standing in front of his house. Dim orange light from the street lamps cast an eerie luminescence over him. Mr. Leroy looked over to his neighbor, a young boy approximately around the age of sixteen, who was all bleary-eyed and glancing across the streets from the window of his bedroom. His face displayed a mixture of shock and consternation as his glance landed on the mid-age man. Judging from the look on his face as if he had just seen a revenant, Mr. Leroy must have appeared rather cadaverous under the dim lighting. The young boy quickly withdrew himself from the window and pulled the curtains shut with a flourish.

Mr. Leroy began to move swiftly and quietly down the street. His footsteps bearing no whatsoever echo on the hard gravel-paved surface. He gave the impression of a lion stalking its' prey. When he turned left as he reached the corner of the street and continued walking for a rough estimation of twenty minutes in the cold, bitter morning before he came to a halt at the end of the street.

The street was a rather well kept area. Rows of neat white houses with rosebushes and garden ornaments decorating their lawns. Everything was fitted in perfectly well just like something you would see on an oil painting. The only thing that stood oddly out was an old Victorian manor that had half of its' roof tiles missing. The door was already splintering and the paint was already peeling due to age. The windows were grubby and black with filth and grime. The lawn was overgrown with weeds and the shrubs badly needed some pruning. Everything about that old Victorian manor just needed a lot of touch ups and repairs.

Mr. Leroy pushed the iron wrought gate open. The heavy gate creaked open and shut loudly. Mr. Leroy made his way around the house and entered through the back door.

Inside, the house was simply too filthy that there were no words left to describe it. Cobwebs hung from corners to corners and clouds of dust rose every time the moth-eaten carpet was stepped on. A musty and damp smell hung around in the air.

There was a silhouette of a man standing in the shadows. He stepped out of the shadows and towards Mr. Leroy.

"Good day my friend," he shook Mr. Leroy's hand with a firm shake.

"A very good day to you too," came Mr. Leroy's reply.

"I presume you came here to accept my offer? I give you my word that it will be ten thousand dollars."

"I have no doubts about your word with money. You have never failed me with that. Are you positively sure that this is the person you wish to have me assassinate?" Mr. Leroy asked quietly. He was looking down at the other man, who apparently appear to be half a head shorter than Mr. Leroy.

"I am sure of it. Then, ten thousand dollars it shall be and you, my fellow friend, you have never failed me as well," the man smiled a sinister smile. His eyes glinted with evil as he leant closer to Mr. Leroy. "27, St. Mark's Street," he said in a whisper that was barely audible before he left the room with a flourish.

Mr. Leroy mentally wrote the address down in his head, preparing himself mentally for what he was about to accomplish. It was something so inhuman and cold-blooded that it would give people cold feet to even cross the thought of doing it, let alone carry it out. Mr. Leroy was amused with himself as how he could just stab a man at the medulla oblongata, a section at the base of the brain that was uncovered that could leave a man dead within seconds and then walk away as if it was nothing big. Mr. Leroy had been doing this for more than ten years. He killed for a living, his duty was to assassinate no matter who or where.

It took him another twenty-minute walk to get to 27, St. Mark's Street. It was a rich man's area. Mr. Leroy shook his head. Such a pity, so much money on Earth but it was a shame that his victim couldn't take all his money with him to heaven. Mr. Leroy gave a short, low laugh before climbing through the window. For a mid-age man, his agility and speed was astonishing.

Once inside, he moved quietly and swiftly across the polished mahogany floor and up the wooden set of staircase. He was careful to place his weight properly on each step so that the wood wouldn't sink and creak under his weight. He managed to reach the landing of the staircase without making a single sound. Mr. Leroy was possibly one of the best assassins ever.

He reached over and turned the doorknob of the door at the end of the hallway. The door swung open smoothly. In there was a large and robust man lying deep asleep on his bed. He was lying on his side with his mouth wide open and snoring. Mr. Leroy made a disgusted noise in his throat, he had always found people who snore as uncivilized. The sleeping man jerked awake at the sound of Mr. Leroy. He looked at Mr. Leroy in half fear and annoyance.

"Who are you? What are you doing in here? I am calling the police," the man struggled to get out of bed.

"I am Anthony Leroy at your service," Mr. Leroy made a quick move towards the man and brought his pocketknife down at a well-placed stab at the back of the man's head before the man had a chance to move towards the telephone. The man collapsed onto the floor like a puppet and lay motionless.

Mr. Leroy congratulated himself mentally for another job well done and left the house quickly. He knew that this would be a piece of cake as it had always been.

The following day, Mr. Leroy was sitting in a coffee shop for his daily cup of strong, black coffee.

"Here's your coffee sir, can I get you anything else?" the waitress asked, placing a cup of coffee onto Mr. Leroy's table.

"Thank you, that's enough," Mr. Leroy replied in his usual curt manner. He flicked his newspaper open and brought it to his face. What he saw on the first page brought a complacent smirk onto his face. He stroked the brim of his hat in delight as he read through the details. The news read about the mayor, Mr. Rink was found dead beside his bed by his maid. The police were now searching for the assassin but there were no clues and evidence left by the assassin so that made their work almost impossible.

Mr. Leroy smiled once more. He had broken the law once more by killing another man. He prefer to call it as crossing the boundaries...

(1223 words)


PS: this was my second essay for the Commonwealth Essay Competition but I didn't hand this one in. I handed the Colours one instead. COPYRIGHTED!