His mission was begun and he had taken his first step towards his road to
vengeance. St. John had learned that his next step. His next target
frequented a seedy "gun club", know to traffic in "hard to get firearms". A
covert way to say illegal weapons.
The sidewalk was dimly lit by the few remaining street lamps, that we're
trashed by vandals. The moon still shined high in the heavens. St. John
looked up at the sky and his mind flashed back to happier days and images
flooded his mind.
He remembered the day that he first met Cindy. He never would of thought
that their relationship would grow into what it had. His mind jumped ahead
to the day that she asked him out and how shocked, surprised and how
incredibly happy he was.
Then he remembered their wedding day. It was the perfect day. The sun
shined high and bright in the brilliant blue sky. The air had an
incredible, sweet smell to it and a slight breeze blew, making the air just
the right temperature. A tear started to form in his eye as he recalled how
beautiful she was that day. He saw himself lifting up her veil and staring
into her eyes for a second before, he sealed their wedding vows with a long
kiss.
The tear escaped and slowly rolled down his face as he remembered the look
of happiness on his wife's face the day she found out she was pregnant. He
remembered how proud and happy he felt when he first held his little son in
his arms. Little Jason looked so helpless and fragile as Christopher held
him. He made a promise to himself that he would never let anything happen
and that he would always be there.
The tear rolled off of St. John's face as rage filled his eyes and he
shouted out loud. "A promise you made me break!" He slammed his fists into
a wall kicked a trash can. Anger and sadness overwhelmed him as he dropped
to his knees, in the alley, tears falling freely.
The cawing of the crow stole St. John's attention. The sky began to cloud.
The full moon was soon blocked out my the grey masses, hiding it's light.
The alley got dimmer and St. John stood. His composure returned and he
continued his walk. Soon he arrived at the club.
A lone man stood in the indoor shooting range, firing away, totally unaware
of his death's entrance. St. John easily hid in the many shadows cast by the
dim lighting. Before he could even blink, St. John was on the man and had
knocked him unconscious. The next day, the police would receive a call and
the man, the murderer, will be found hanging as a target in the range and
shot multiple times. Several guns will be found missing also and not a clue
as to who killed the man or stole the weapons. Not a clue, save for a black
feather.
Questions or Comments?
