View Point

• Emily Cullen, Grade 12
• Short Story
• 2008

Death is a beautiful thing. Especially innocent death. Before death is ugly, the screams, the cries, the begging, but death itself... watching the drizzle of red that gently makes its way down the pale white throat, the peacefully closed eyes... She put up a fight at least, not all of them do, some just lie there, crying, begging. Pathetic really. But she fought until my blade sheathed itself in her chest and, for certainty, slipped across her throat.

This one was easy, in and out in less than half an hour, no guards to bother me, no servants in my way. The guards were drugged, the servants asleep, given the night off. I wish every job was that easy...

I slipped in silently through the palace gates, black cloak swirling in the light wind, I was one with the darkness, eyes the only part of me not coated in black. But that is no worry, they say that the eyes are the window to the soul; if that is the case then my eyes must be black as well.

The palace was nice as castles go, old and grand with grounds that stretched forever, had there been guards on duty I might have found those grounds annoying, but as it stood there was no trouble. As always when I am given a contract, I did my homework. I knew where her room was, luckily for me it was not in the ‘highest room of the tallest tower’ as they too often are with princesses, it’s so predictable… My target liked the ocean breezes for, instead of a tower, I climbed along a ledge to reach her window, the hungry sea churning below me, water almost as black as my cloak. Once I arrived at her window I was forced to sit on that ledge while her lover, a servant from what I could see, was in her bed… I have seen many things in my profession; some things are more appealing than others.

Finally, even seconds can seem like forever when bloodlust is thrusting through your veins like the roaring sea below you, they finished and dressed. Murder called, but I had my orders, only the girl. He left. I had to be sure that he was gone, but she seemed to think he was and so I made my move. The window was already open so my intrusion was silent, it was not until I stood behind her and she felt my breath that I was noticed.

She screamed. I smiled. There was no need to explain, no need to bother with words. I drew my dagger and she understood.

Ironically she died where he lover had lain just minutes before.

The blood that runs down her neck really is very beautiful, the red shining against her pale skin. My contract has been fulfilled; the night’s work is done. Tomorrow night I shall go to the king, for his daughter is dead and he owes me gold.