Continuing with genre prompts, this time it's mystery. A story in which one or more elements remain unknown or unexplained until the end of the story.
Night Moves
There was no moon and the
night was one long dark shadow.
In my black attire I
blended well with the soot-stained brickwork of the building. I cautiously made
my way up the metal fire escape; any misstep, any noise, and my nefarious
activities would be revealed.
When I reached the fourth
floor I eased the window open, confident in my knowledge the apartment would be
empty. In my daytime persona I had visited this apartment with the realtor, as
just another prospective tenant.
I had wandered about,
making all the appropriate responses, checking out the closet space and looking
at the view out the window. When he was distracted I had quickly released the
window latch in anticipation of my night time rendezvous.
Carefully, I climbed
through the window and silently shut it behind me. In the dark, I stood and let
my eyes adjust to a different darkness. A city night is never total black, but
is made up of shades of grey from reflected light. I stepped into a room of
deeper shadow and moved along the wall. Easily, I made my way to the inside
door, for the layout was simple and there was no furniture to hamper my path.
My questions about
building security had gleaned valuable information. There were cameras in the
lobby, but the elevators and halls were lens free. I could move about freely,
needing only to avoid the tenants, hoping they were safely tucked in their beds,
asleep at this time of night.
They were not my concern,
my only interest that night was one specific tenant. I left the apartment,
making sure the door was left unlocked behind me, for I would need an exit that
was as unseen and undetected as my entry.
With my back against the
wall, alert, listening for the ping of the elevator or the opening of a door, I
made my way to the stairwell and opened the door. I passed through to the
landing, holding the door, closing it and releasing the handle in whisper
silence. Quickly I made my way up the stairway, my footsteps making no sound on
the concrete stairs. I paused on each successive landing to listen, always
cautious.
At the eighth floor I
stopped. Almost there, I thought, and took a deep calming breath when I could
feel my heart beat faster in anticipation. Slowly, I released the handle on the
door and eased it open, just enough to glance down the corridor to ensure my presence
was still undetected.
I entered the empty
hallway, easing the door shut behind me and crept down the passageway. The
doors were staggered for the privacy of the tenants, each door opening to face
the wall of the corridor rather than the door of another unit.
Wasn't that convenient I
was thinking. My activity at the door to apartment 802 would not be seen or heard
by the tenant in 803, whose door was further down the hall.
Drawing the key from my
pocket, I inserted it in the lock, the click of its release sounding loud in the
tense silence of the hall. Again I opened the door just enough to listen to the
silence from within; there were no voices, no late night television, nothing
but sleepy oblivion.
I made my way down the
familiar hall to the bedroom, his bedroom, and stood in the doorway. I
hesitated for just a moment, quickly shaking off any doubts.
As I approached, I could
see his naked form spread across the queen size bed, the sheets barely covering
him, and my heart broke once again with the surge of memories. No, I thought, I
will not be deterred by emotion, it was not the time. Tonight it was to be cold
and calculated. Later, when my job was done, I would let all these feelings
loose.
I pulled the gun from the
waist of my jeans, and used it to jab at his chest, over again and over again,
until he was looking about for what had awakened him and saw me standing there.
“Hello, Robert,” I said.
He would only suffer for
that one moment of awareness, when he knew what was to come. He would not
suffer, as I had suffered, but when it was done, I would have my retribution.
I quickly picked up a
pillow off the bed, laid it across his chest and fired my gun into his heart. The
sound was muffled and yet it seemed like an explosion of noise in my head. I
turned my back on him and silently retraced my steps, locking his door behind
me, and left the building as I had entered it, alone and undetected.
As I made my way along
the city streets, heading towards home, I tossed the key and the gun down the
sewer, and considered my night's work complete.
With his death I had my
revenge.
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