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THE ORIGINAL WRITING SECOND TRY

The Major stood silently behind the dusty curtains. The audience
hadn’t arrived as yet – hadn’t for the past 50 years. Lifeless
skeletons sat on the old cushion chairs staring at her menacingly, a
look that would make a normal human being flee.

But, the Major wasn’t normal. The Chief had put her through an
intensive and vigorous training. She remembered the long hours,
the sweat and the routine exercises. The Major smiled, as all those
memories flooded her mind. However, she was glad she had left the
team in time, for if she hadn’t, she would have been fired and
locked into prison. It was getting dark outside, and she peered out of
the window only to see the whitish moon trying to stand out, against
the orange sky. She decided to switch between infra-red and normal
vision, to make sure her target had not entered the premises
without her knowledge.
The Major continued to perch, high up on a curtain rod; her eyes
directed on the two main entry doors. The wind was picking up
pace, and fresh air entered the auditorium, relieving her of the stink.
Her hair rippled slightly, revealing her slightly blushed cheeks and
ears. She could hear movement, and her eyes widened, her pupil
bouncing in her eye socket. She did not expect her targets to enter
through the main doors, but her experience and instinct had taught
her not to overlook it.

*****

Kline and Fradel were cruising along the highway, past the Atlantic
Ocean. It was a warm and humid day, an exceptional day for a drive.
There was the smell of seaweed, sand and barbeque in the air,
enough to bring back long-lost childhood memories, such as the
enchanting hobby of building sandcastles. There were quite a few
people on the beach. The air was clean and fresh. The shallow, grim-
looking waves seemed dark themselves because the foam that
topped them was like snow. The sun glimmered at the horizon,
letting its light pierce through the immense, jagged and fragmented
wall of clouds, unwilling to let this part of the world forget the light.

Kline had recently bought the latest Audi car and it was standing
out against the older rusting cars on the street. He was trying to
impress his partner Fradel, with the car, when his mobile tinkled
loudly, breaking the reverie of his thoughts. It was the Chief.

“Yes, Chief”, said Kline. The Chief was Head of the Elite Second
Division of the Republic of England and he wanted Kline and Fradel
to rush to a crime scene in Kresington Lane. Kline groaned and
Fradel frowned. It was their day off. But they had little choice, the
chief’s instructions were absolutely clear. The car sped out of the
exit road, heading south at the first intersection, avoiding the large
square jammed with tour buses and crowds of sightseers cautiously
avoiding the endless stream of vehicles in the streets.

They reached the crime scene in a matter of minutes. It was nearing


sunset and the orange rays of the sun were dying out soon, the
safety and the glow of the city only barely visible. The air was
motionless. Fog lights merely glowed in the fading light. The noises
of the large square were muted with the uninterrupted gigantic
shadows of the cold, majestic structures of glass and steel that
stood abruptly, on the abandoned, barren landfill site, behind the
beach.

The car whizzed past the deserted footpaths and the soaring
skyscrapers, reaching an abandoned auditorium. The wind picked
up, and small pieces of metal flew against their faces. Kline
grumbled, as he stood witnessing a small piece of iron, scratch the
polished surface of his car.

They stood, in front of the auditorium, for a few moments, staring at


the two wrinkled wooden doors, wondering how the old building was
still standing. One of the doors was conked out, holding on to a
single hinge that would fall apart from its frame, any moment soon.

Kline grinned as they entered the auditorium, and walked past the
reception, on the dusty, grey and creased carpet, which was once
black and smooth. They climbed up the stairs cautiously, until they
approached a large abandoned theatre. The place was dead and
devoid of life. It was dark, damp and cold and the seats were
covered in a layer of dust, and cobwebs hung from the ceiling. They
climbed up the rotten, rickety stairs that creaked so much that Kline
and Fradel chose a ‘safer path’ near the outside edge of the stairs.
They were heading towards the stage, until a spotlight abruptly
turned on, focused, on the centre of the stage. And there he was.
They could see his silhouette.

John Carter- their target was standing still, like the Sphinx of Egypt.
And He was the one, the entire nation was looking for. The subject of
newspaper headlines for the past month. The prime suspect in four
horrific murders.

The mobile phone rang again, but there was some good news from
the Chief,

“Lee and Smith are approaching your coordinates in 30 seconds.


Your main objective is to capture John. I repeat, this may be our last
and only chance to catch Carter.”
Kline sprinted towards John. As he got closer, he saw the stock-still
figure at a closer range. A shockwave ran through his spine, this was
not what he expected. The figure was that of a slim woman. A
woman he was very familiar with…

“The Major….” he shuddered in fear!

Her soft purple hair burnt brightly, emitting a light that lit up the
aged auditorium. Her skin was smooth and pale and her blue eyes
flashed like a neon light. She held a Sub-Machine Gun in her hands.

Kline’s vision began to blur. He was unable to concentrate. He could


feel his senses deteriorating and his life seemed to ebb away. There
was a faintly pungent smell in the air, unlike the smell of rotten
bones. Kline had realized that he had walked into a trap, where the
air was contaminated with a poisonous gas.

The distance between them was about 17 metres. Kline knew that
the bullet would travel at 1220 m/s. He would only have 0.014
seconds to react. There was a negligible chance of him dodging the
bullet. But, why would she shoot him? Why? –

Kline simply choked with emotion …

BANG! She had pulled the trigger.

0.004 seconds. She was the closest ... 0.007 seconds... person I
ever knew.

0.013 seconds passed.

I’m DEAD!, thought Kline.

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