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Saturday, 6 December 2008



It was the twilight of the morning’s dawn, as a mysterious figure in a washout brown trench coat and grey top hat slowly makes his way through the misty silent alley. Trails of bloods flowing from his bullet wounds marked his path. A thud echoed against the dirty walls as the heavy, metal revolver drops from his grip and unto the black pavement.
The figure steps into the light and leaned against the cold lamp post. His trembling hands reached into his pocket and raid for a cigarette. As he slowly placed the fag on his dry slack lips, he could her the footsteps which were tailing him since the last incident draw closer to him.

“” Back to finish me off? “ : he slowly croak.

A puff of white smoke escaped his lips as he its it on.

“ Couldn’t give me a slack, uh? “

He took a deep breath of his killer’s fragence. A strange combination of gunpowder and lavender’s essence filled his lungs. A loud gunshot pierced through the silence of the city. The figure falls on his knee, and unto the side of the road. The cigarette bud falls from his lips and washed away with his river of blood. That was the day he die. That was the day I died.
- Nazreen Stein

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