Writing post

Hi

As I said there will be fictional stories in this blog from time to time, this is only a opening I will write more if anyone is interested.

Harold's saloon pulled to a stop outside a smart three floor town house, on the outskirts of central London. It was a new building made of smart red brick and, had been the home of Harold and his wife Sarah for four and a half years . They had been very kindly provided it when Harold had taking up his job at the counter intelligence task force, of course to Sarah or anyone else for that matter nobody knew it. To everyone outside of work he was Harold Crick a thirty something who worked for a reputable merchant bank, well a merchant bank anyway. Harold liked it that way it meant nobody could let something slip and, endanger his wife or himself.
Harold leaned back into the leather of his seat and starred at the windows of his house. Sarah should be home now. Harold thought to himself confirming this by taking a glance at the dashboard clock. 8.45 “Definitely.” He said out loud unnecessarily as he was the only person in the car. Harold stepped out into the freezing night, the wind licking his face and the surrounding trees. Now just beginning to sprout delicate pink blossoms that signalled the start of spring. Harold turned around back to face the house, noticing how strange it was that no lights were on in any rooms. Harold shook his head dismissing the thought to the recycle bin of his mind. He had learnt that if you did his job for too long you began to see threats everywhere. Harold walked quickly to the front door the wind picking up now and, slipped his key silently into the lock and entered.
Harold and Sarah's house was sparsely decorated yet neat. The neatness however came from the fact that Harold and Sarah were barely ever in it. Harold was always busy at work or doing field work in some distant country. Sarah was also equally busy yet a little closer to home working a busy practise in Harley street. Harold stepped over the threshold into the hall lights turning on automatically thanks to a new home computer system. He placed his jacket on a peg to the right of the door and walked into the living room. Still no Sarah. Harold wasn't worried she was probably having a bath or watching the television upstairs. Harold reasoned to himself. Suddenly realising he hadn't had anything to drink since lunchtime Harold walked into the open plan kitchen and poured himself a drink. He sat on his uncomfortable metal chair in his newly decorated office, making a note to himself that he really should get it replaced. Harold couldn't believe at that moment how insignificant a chair would appear in a matter of a few hours.
Contentedly Harold sat on his horrid chair, sipping his red wine (not his favourite drink but all that came to hand). And tapping away on his computer searching for a holiday, that he had been given leave to take. The only holiday he and Sarah had been available to take together in over two years.
He leaned back into his chair and at this moment realised something was a miss. As he leant back into his chair he saw a window was open, only slightly but enough to make him think. Harold's brain quickly deduced that the only reason such a window would be open on such a cold night, was to gain entry from outside. After all the window was just capable of allowing a man entry, and crucially it hung limply as if forced open with a crowbar. Harold's brain quickly sprung into survival mode. He reached beneath his desk and pulled up a Aluminium brief case. The brief case was inconspicuous and immediately forgettable much to the designers intentions. He placed it on the desk and keyed in a familiar four digit code, the case accepted the command and with two clacks that Harold hoped weren't loud enough to alert the intruders who were assumable still upstairs. Opened and revealed the contents. The brief case wasn't a empty travelling case, but was a field box provided by work and which was encouraged to be kept in every agents home. Among over things it contained a micro computer,a passport, a credit card belonging to a dummy company and crucial a 9MM pistol. That was all Harold was interested in he took the pistol out of it's surround, pushed in the round next to it and tightened the silencer. Harold then walked swiftly to the door leading on to the hall and waited.
Harold waited until He was sure there was no movement upstairs, he didn't want them to know he was coming and have time to arm themselves. Then turned and padded up the stairs the gun always ahead of him. Harold had been trained in clearing houses and bought this training to bear on his own house. He cleared each room quickly, glancing around thoroughly with the 9MM then moving on. He did this until finally he reached the last room on this floor, his and Sarah's bedroom. The lights were of as he had observed from downstairs, he flicked the switch with his free hand and saw what he had feared he would. His wife was laying on the the hard wooden floor next to the bed (made by the cleaner only this morning) unmistakably dead! She looked strangely peaceful as if perhaps asleep, this was revealed to be sadly untrue as next to her was a spent Hypodermic needle, the contents of which had been forced into her jugular. Harold sat over her for a second not wanting to move and wishing time could be reversed, as Harold understood none of this could be reversed he decided these murders were going to pay. Before leaving the room he closed the lids over the glassy lifeless eyes of his former wife. Harold new these people were professionals they were assassins and they were clearly after him, but Harold new he was better than these people and they were going to die because of it.
Harold heard a voice talking on the phone as he climbed the last flight of stairs, it was coming from a small library Harold had converted from a disused bedroom. As he neared the door he heard the conversation “ Not yet we got his wife though.” The man said in a heavy accent. Harold clenched his right hand around the grip of the gun he so wanted to kill this man for murdering his wife , yet he knew there was still useful information to be heard from the conversation. “Yeah I know what he looks like 6 foot, early thirties, blond hair .” “Don't worry there is two of us I think we can handle it.” He finished apparently reassuring a doubtful employer. Harold sensed the man was going to hang up soon, he seized his moment moving as close as he dared to the man without him turning around. And fired one shot into the back of the man's skull killing him quick, silently and sadly from Harold's point of view painlessly. The man teetered for a moment but Harold caught him before he hit the floor. The sound of a man hitting the hard wooden floor would obviously alert the other man to his presence. Harold cleared the final rooms until by the process of elimination knew the other assassin was in the second living room at the far end of the house. The door was closed and Harold heard no sound on the inside. He was cautious of entering guns blazing it would certainly result in death and, now he wanted some answers. Harold slowly ran his hand along the wood of the door until his hand found the door knob. Using the door as cover he slowly opened it. Then turned pointing the gun at the empty room. The murderer had left out the balcony, he must have heard the quiet give away of a silenced shot. Now Harold was no closer to finding out who had targeted him and killed his wife. All that showed there was any trace of the assassin was a spent needle that killed his wife and, the open balcony it 's doors flung wide open where the killer had made his escape. The curtains fluttered gently under the now strong wind from outside and to any outside observer all seemed well.....

Sorry about the length I know it's quite long. If anyone wants to comment you will have to go through Twitter, as the comment function on this blog works sporadically. Sorry about that and thanks for reading.

Kyle