The Collector

Moogie quietly closed the oak panelled doors behind him. He stood in the gloom, watching the eager flames dance in the fireplace at the far side of the drawing room. This provided the only light, throwing a high-backed leather chair into silhouette.

Not only was the room larger than his entire flat, the paintings on the walls were probably more expensive than his entire building. He reflected how easy it had been to gain entry into Edwin Morely’s home.

A cultured voice startled him. “Ah, it’s the other one. Which one are you, Butch or Sundance?” A somewhat feminine laugh followed. “Come forward where I can see you.”

Tentatively, Moogie walked towards the fireplace and, circling the chair he saw, seated there, the owner of the voice. It was an elderly man, his face resembling a deflated balloon, his purple lips drawn back in parody of a smile. He lifted a liver spotted hand and pointed to a small display case beside him on an occasional table.

“I’m a collector,” he said, “as you probably know.” He dropped his hand so that it rested once more on the chair arm. “Your friend knew this, and he paid me a visit too.

“You no doubt thought it was easy to get in here. He did. Well, my security team are well hidden. They will have followed you in.” He gazed at Moogie with unexpectedly clear eyes. “When I was younger, if I wanted to trap an insect I used a jam jar. It could get in, but it would torture itself trying to get out.”

Moogie stared at the old man. “I’m only here to find my friend.”

The smile reappeared. “Ah. He’s no longer here. Well, most of him.”

Moogie slipped his hand into his coat pocket. “What do you mean?”

With obvious effort, Edwin Morely sat forward in his chair. “I told you, I’m a collector. Come see.”

Moogie leaned forward to look into the display case. Pinned there, like a butterfly collection, were a set of what appeared to be dried figs. Two were not dried.

Morely’s smile grew wider. “What do you people say, ‘pin back your lug holes’?”

Moogie didn’t really think it through. He just knew it was time to exact revenge. From his pocket, his hand shot out, holding a combat knife. He plunged it into Morely’s throat.

The old man sank back in the chair, pink froth on his lips. The smile was no longer there.

The Collector was another "Scrabble challenge" where original narrative had to include specified words - this time, gloom, home b_tch, liver, insect, torture, exact, knife, pink, smile.

Waiting for the Man

The gull was back, tearing at the greasy takeaway carton. The incident that had left two bodies crumpled in the alleyway had only been a minor inconvenience to the bird. Truth to tell, it had only been a minor inconvenience to Cain Hartman.

When Mason had told him that the target’s security detail had all undergone something called the Tactical Combat Training System, Hartman had revised his plan. Granted, with his unarmed combat skills he could overcome TCTS techniques, but he was not one to be driven by ego. Besides, bullets to the head were quicker.

Before acting, Hartman had waited until the shorter of the two guards had given the all clear and shut off his phone. Timing was everything. The target was due to arrive any minute.

William Cochrane. A ruthless man with a love of power and a desire to control that was almost a fever. His death would be a gesture of hope to those who had been tortured and sent to jail without trial. His pain would not be prolonged, but it would be a sort of karma, nonetheless.

Hartman could appreciate the difference his actions would make. But he was not an idealist – it was just another job. His escape route was set; the sniper rifle was snuggled into his shoulder.

He heard a car engine and saw the piano-black BMW turn the corner at the end of the street.

Soon. The rifle stock would jar his shoulder and it would all be over.

Waiting for the Man was the result of another Creative Writing exercise, whereby you had to write something including ten "random" Scrabble words, In this case the words were: gull, granted, t_ts, ego, love, fever, gesture, jail, jar and karma.