J.P Jaeh_Poole
A/N: Okay, this is something I made for an exercise in my creative writing class... 
we're supposed to narrate a dream of ours... and, well, here's my dream... 
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The neon signs danced and flashed before my eyes as I surveyed my surroundings. I looked at the gun in my hand. I waved it around, testing its weight in my hands. I ran my fingers over it, feeling every ridge and every corner. I cocked the handgun and checked its sights. Perfect.
And then we moved out. We crept along the walls and through the hallways. We checked every nook and cranny, every room and corner for people.
My clear orders ran again through my mind- point, shoot and kill.
The place was empty, though. I figured it would be crawling with guards. After all, the target is staying in this very hotel- and a very important target at that. But we saw no one. Not a soul was in sight.
Satisfied, I headed into my target's suite. Once I spotted him I raised my gun and shot him again and again. I saw him go down, blood spilling from the bullet holes I left in his body.
I did it. I finished my mission.
I killed the President.
I heard a gasp behind me. I turned around and aimed my gun where I heard the sound. The President's daughter glanced at her father's lifeless body and turned her eyes on me. “You killed him!” She spat out. “Y-you.... you killed him!” She ran out of the room, crying. I walked out of the room like nothing happened. I signaled my operatives to move out.
After we left, I found myself driving up to an abandoned lot. I got out of my Kevlar vest and left my gun in the car seat. I sat on the hood and stared at the wall, pondering on the fact that I just killed a man. I looked at the vines that grew on the wall and examined the brown stain by the corner. Then everything blacked out.
I woke up.
It couldn't have been just a dream; it felt too real. I could even still feel the weight of the gun in my hand.
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I don't know which country the president is from...
Please comment! Constructive criticism is totally and completely welcome..
we're supposed to narrate a dream of ours... and, well, here's my dream... --------------
The neon signs danced and flashed before my eyes as I surveyed my surroundings. I looked at the gun in my hand. I waved it around, testing its weight in my hands. I ran my fingers over it, feeling every ridge and every corner. I cocked the handgun and checked its sights. Perfect.
And then we moved out. We crept along the walls and through the hallways. We checked every nook and cranny, every room and corner for people.
My clear orders ran again through my mind- point, shoot and kill.
The place was empty, though. I figured it would be crawling with guards. After all, the target is staying in this very hotel- and a very important target at that. But we saw no one. Not a soul was in sight.
Satisfied, I headed into my target's suite. Once I spotted him I raised my gun and shot him again and again. I saw him go down, blood spilling from the bullet holes I left in his body.
I did it. I finished my mission.
I killed the President.
I heard a gasp behind me. I turned around and aimed my gun where I heard the sound. The President's daughter glanced at her father's lifeless body and turned her eyes on me. “You killed him!” She spat out. “Y-you.... you killed him!” She ran out of the room, crying. I walked out of the room like nothing happened. I signaled my operatives to move out.
After we left, I found myself driving up to an abandoned lot. I got out of my Kevlar vest and left my gun in the car seat. I sat on the hood and stared at the wall, pondering on the fact that I just killed a man. I looked at the vines that grew on the wall and examined the brown stain by the corner. Then everything blacked out.
I woke up.
It couldn't have been just a dream; it felt too real. I could even still feel the weight of the gun in my hand.
--------------------------
I don't know which country the president is from...
Please comment! Constructive criticism is totally and completely welcome..
