Terminate

• Kirsty Hodgkins, Grade 9
• Short Story
• 2012

He wore a dark mystic mask; she wore a dark blue sequined mask. He wore a black tux; she wore a shiny blue dress that stopped just above the knee. He wore dancing shoes; she wore blue heels. He had dark brown hair; she bright blonde hair. He had served in the army; she had been stuck in prison for the last 12 years. He had been trained to kill the guilty; she had been trained to kill the innocent. He was a secret agent; she was his next victim.
They were locked in a tight embrace slowly circling around in time with music, like tigers circling around a cage. Their eyes squinted and locked onto each other’s as they moved gracefully around the dance floor. Their feet clicked their way down the floorboards and as the music slowed down slightly they started to make conversation.
“Lovely night isn’t it?” the man asked.
“Sublime” the woman replied “Can I ask what brings you here; I thought only the mayor’s most loyal friends were invited?”
“Who says I’m not meant to be here?”
They continued to dance slowly around the floor carefully moving around the others dancers hidden by their masks.
“You haven’t answered my question, what are you doing here?” the woman asked.
“I’m sorry but that is classified information only me and a few select people know.”
“Can I be one of those people” the woman asked seductively.
“Maybe, but only if you can keep a secret” the man whispered into her ear.
“I’ve been keeping secrets all my life” she whispered back.
Keeping his face near hers he continued but with hesitation in his voice.
“I’m looking for a blonde girl, wearing a blue dress, I was also told she was evil and manipulative” he smiled at the woman, obviously hiding something.
She laughed weakly looking at her feet.
They continued to dance in silence for a little while before the man spoke,
“If I don’t get to see your face can I at least know your name?”
“It’s classified” she said mockingly.
“It’s probably a good thing you don’t know my name either” he said.
“Why’s that?” she asked quizzically.
“So you won’t know the name of your killer” and with that he reached inside his jacket and pulled out a small silver knife and drove it towards her heart. She tried to stop him but he was too strong. He pierced her skin and blood drew. As the music faded off and stopped he whispered,
“By the way the name’s Cam Morrison.”
Masked heads snapped to look towards the man and woman who had just finished dancing. The man let the woman slide to the floor. He turned, striding triumphantly towards the double doors with a grim look on his face, slamming the door loudly and letting it echo throughout the silent room.