Creatures Of The Night

Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Dying: definition

* On the point of death.

* Occurring at or connected with the time that someone dies.

* To start to lose your life and exist no more.

No matter how many times I searched for the word in the cramped dictionary or the never-ending encyclopedia, I never could grasp the meaning of it. Not at all. I even once visited the abandoned library and stole a book of words with their definitions in detail. Nothing. I still don't understand. I've witnessed people die; well with my job it's necessary but still what kind of person am I, if I don't know what death means? The answer is I'm not a person.

I stared hard at the man in front of me, so hard I could have made him explode with just my mind. He was completely bald; the top of his head so shiny you could have seen your reflection in it. He had layers and layers of sick-looking pale skin all over lapping each other. Big nostrils. Massive forehead. His eyes were a brown color, like dark decayed mud, framed with dark bushy eyebrows like fat caterpillars. There was a big, bulging mole scarred on the middle of the man's left cheek. He was extremely short and had a monstrous gut.

He twisted his chubby hands, its knuckles over-grown with inky hair on top of the desk, which separated us. On each finger, there were pure gold ring much like an angels halo ring. He was wearing a dark blue suit, polish and kept, with a dark blue tie. He was old enough to be my father. Not that I would choose him to be.

"I...I didn't mean to offend." the man stuttered

"I...It's just..." he faltered when he caught a glimpse of sharp daggers; I hoped that were present in my eyes.

I really hated that I had to work for this mindless idiot, but to have him question me was even worse. He's very lucky I was still in this study room. I'm dead serious when I say that. There were countless of files and loose papers covering his desk, at a risk of tumbling over. The room was a mess with reeking socks and other types of clothing scattered across the brown carpet floor.

The creamy wallpaper was barely intact. There were big blotches of black damp staining it. Flanking in the far corner of the room was a large potted plastic plant, taller than me, a bright green color sickening me. The smell of old books; dust and aftershave crawled up my nose restlessly, causing my head to pound. The room would have been nice if the man cared for it, although it looked like that was never going to happen. Anyway, the only thing that's keeping me from bolting was his money.

"It's fine for now Baldy. Can I call you Baldy? Of course I can call you Baldy. Don't underestimate me; if you want this woman dead then you've got it." I said seriously. By now I am sure you're wondering what the heck is going on. So, let me explain myself.

My name is Macy. No second name, my so-called parent's never bothered to leave me one. I am eighteen years old a few months shy of nineteen. What else is there to know about me? Oh right, I am an assassin. Yes, an assassin meaning I kill people for a living. That's what I'm discussing with Baldy over here.

You may think its crazy for an eighteen-year-old girl to be an assassin but not where I come from. Well, maybe before 50 years ago that's before people started to drop dead for no reason and before children were found mauled to death by creatures of the night in the park and definitely before the universal night curfew. In 2020, to find eighteen years old girl as an assassin is the least of your worries.

In my world, everything is falling apart. The dumbest thing the horrendous government ever came up with was the universal curfew. This was where everyone had to be sheltered from the outside world, before the sun vanished and the world was drowned in darkness. It would be the time when the creatures of the night would come out to play. Why is it the dumbest thing ever made?