Creative Writing

It was the dead of the night. Helen Curious was walking out of the shop when she was checking what she had grabbed. She had done well. The store she had just robbed was stocked with brilliant jewellery and money. The ski mask she was wearing was irritating her; though she made a mental note to not take it off. She was in a shopping mall. There are always cameras… and alarms. But after a small panic attack she remembered she had disabled most of them. And just as the thought crossed her mind a screech came from an undetectable place. She had done something wrong. A security guard came running at her. She had done well avoiding them so far. Helen began to run. This task is unfortunately difficult task for Helen. Helen is 93 years old.   

Eventually a young man charged at her. He was unarmed but the force of his tackle injured Helen. The young security guard hadn’t realised how old Helen was when he was chasing her. It was too dark to see anything. Helen wondered whether he would have treated her differently if he knew just how old she was. She was thinking about a lot. She only just realised the pool of blood by her left ear when she died. She was too weak to live, far too fragile. She knew she would die. A hit like that would kill any old lady, master thief or not.

A strong pull captured her. She was rising. But when she looked down she could still see her crumpled dead body. Also, she could see the traumatised young security guard who just realised he had killed someone. She was almost about to pass through the ceiling when she fell. She fell so rapidly that she had no time to be scared about crashing into the earth. Yet she continued falling. Falling was something Helen hated. When she stopped, which took far too long in Helens opinion, she felt dizzy and hovered. Helen was very confused. She had no idea what to even call herself. She was hardly a body, for she could see no arms or legs. She had decided she was some sort of spirit. Waiting for something to happen was hard for Helen; she likes things done quickly. And then a man came out. At least it looked like a man, it was hard to tell.

He approached her. It was only now that Helen could see his face. It was scared, dark and rough. His eyes were small and the darkest red. His lips stayed perfectly still, giving Helen no idea how evil this man is. “Hello, Helen.” And only now does he grin. “I have been watching you, very carefully,” he says. His voice is deep and hollow. “You have incredible sneakiness and wit and I would be so very grateful if you could do be a small favour.” She nods, indicating him to continue. “You see, I have always been on the lookout for someone like you. You have incredible talent, did you know, Miss Curious.” Helen tries to open her mouth to reply but she can’t. The form she is in must restrict her to only being able to view things. The man chuckles and waves his hand. She begins to feel blood run through her again. She has hands on her new arms, fingers on those hands.

Before she can speak, though, the man hands her a small mirror and her hair is long and blonde. Like it was when she was young. Her wrinkles that use to cover her face are gone. The strange man has granted her youth. But before she is flattered, she realises that this man is going to be asking for a large favour. “You are dead,” he tells her “I am merely covering your death. You are an imitation of life.” Helen is still shocked. “Who are you?” she asks. “That is irrelevant.” the strange man said “Though I have summoned you here for a reason. Like I said earlier, you are talented. I want to make you live again.” Helen smiled. “If you wanted me to die, why didn’t you kill me?” “I don’t have that kind of control” he replied. “All you have to do is go up to the surface and kill whoever I ask. You are still dead. I just can talk to the dead. So you needed to die to help me.”

Helen wanted more explanation but before she could ask another question, he held out his hand. Helen knew that shaking that hand would mean that she would be his slave. That she was obliged to do as he says. She’d have to kill. She isn’t that kind of criminal. But she could be. She knew she could. Helen Curious: The un-dead assassin. She loved the sound of it. She smiled slightly, and shook the hand of the man with the dark red eyes.