Welcome to Gaia! :: View User's Journal | Gaia Journals

…a warm wind softly sweeping over the countryside, the tall wild flower and grass swaying effortlessly in undulating waves crashing only against the far distanced horizon line. The large lemon sun looking down on the peaceful scene of serenity and nirvana almost as if it watched over protectively such as a parent to their babe. Stretching its warming rays of life and peace across the rolling hills and all the life that bounded on them. Standing alone on one of the smaller hills stood a lone tree, a little lopsided, missing a few key branches and bark just a bit scarred up, but still stood as proudly as it could with its twisted back of a trunk. If one was to see it they swore it was trying desperately to reach up to the warm sun that smiled down on it’s imperfected body. It’s leaves made such a beautiful rustling noise when the wind whipped down betw-



Looking up when the phone rang the girl simply shut the black cover journal. It was so impersonal looking, just a soft back journal as generic as possible. Standing up she walked over to her little black boring side table next to her basic bed. Her room was rather drab as the walls where hospital white, there were no curtains, pictures, posters, decorations or any personal touches. Just a black side table with a small box clock and lamp, a bed and a desk with a wooden chair. Even the very carpet was like every other house’s first carpet of white boring carpet.

Seeing the number she just pressed the answer key and listened for a minute then hung up, she didn’t really talk much, nor did she have a personality. It was like she was a shell of wasted space and energy. Setting the phone down she got in her closet, got dressed in nice slacks and shirt then headed out with her journal. The rest of her house was just as painfully simple if not simpler. There was a couch, coffee table, tv (that didn’t even work), table and two chairs because she couldn’t buy a table with only one chair. Absolutely nothing was on the walls or anywhere to be honest. It was like she didn’t know how to decorate.

Heading out she pulled her long curly hair up in a low ponytail, slicking the top back to make it easier for her job. Easier for she had been raise to infiltrate, hack, spy and kill. She always have been in an almost institutionalized setting from day one, no mother or father figure to show her compassion, love, or emotions. Just a voice over a speaker. When she was old enough it put her in a house, the speaker now was the phone that rested on her simple side table.

When she walked down the street to her job she would always see people holding hands, laughing, yelling, playing, crying and so much more but unfortunately living in a box for so long she had no idea what they were doing. She never stopped to stare, ask or learn, she would just write what she thought they were doing in her journal in one fashion or another. It was her way of trying to understand what was happening. Like normal she took a seat at a little café and ordered some drink that inevitably got thrown away without a touch from her. Opening her journal she kept writing in her entry that she was interrupted with, her amethyst eyes racing over the page she remembered where she was and her pen effortlessly flowed ink on the paper where she wanted it to go. She seemed like she was lost in her writing, and maybe she was, but at one point she dropped money and left the café scooping up her well filled book. Walking off with a shell of a face she looked like she could be a snob or arrogant, unfortunately it was just the only emotion she knew: emotionless.

Rounding a corner she accidentally ran into an Asian male and went down as did he. She just looked at him for the longest moment staring into his deep brown eyes a bit dumbfounded on what just happened. Was she that out of it that she didn’t know what was going on? She was in a hurry but killing the poor guy did flash through her head, but he wasn’t her hit so she just got up and rushed off not realizing her book was left behind nor did she hear his voice call to her to tell her she forgot her book whilst he held it up, now on his knees. What she didn’t know is he went to the same café and opened it and read all her words in awe about what was written.

In a darkened room she finally slipped in after killing dozens of the hired guards about the house that desperately trying to protect the one behind the heavy mahogany wood doors. She found a man sitting quietly in a chair close to a fire with a glass of brandy in his hand. “Please…I have only one request…” She walked closer taking out a knife she lifted her chin as if to tell him to go on. “I won’t fight you as I know I’ll loose, everyone else does. Well…Its kind of two requests. The first one is the typical one, please give me a quick death, I am not good with pain and I won’t fight you.” She nodded agreeing to his request, she maybe was a killer but she was not cruel. Tilting her head he was grateful for her giving him a chance for the second one he wanted to ask. “Why do you cry?” She stopped dead in her tracks “I cry?” It was the sweetest voice he had ever heard, it was like honey to his ears, he almost wished she never had said anything or he didn’t asked as now he just wanted to hear her voice once more. He simply pointed to her face with his free hand. Raising her hand she felt a tear that started down her cheek. “You are called The Crying Assassin…” Her eyebrows furrowed a bit as she looked down her wet finger tips then at him. “I don’t know…I don’t understand crying.”

Walking again she watched as he put down his glass, he was glad the last thing he heard was her honey voice and saw where her beautiful deep stormy purple eyes. She slipped her knife effortlessly into his skin, appreciating him not fighting, keeping to her word he died fast and painless. She waited till his soft blue eyes fogged in death slightly then she disappeared out the house without a trace. She kept touching her eyes that were leaking uncontrollably. It annoyed her that they wouldn’t stop, it annoyed her like now she had a name, she left no witnesses so how did she get that name? She figured she was on a tape, but didn’t care so she just reached for her journal and felt her heart dropped, It wasn’t in her waistband. She felt all over her then remembered the Asian. Her eyes narrowed as she was now having to hunt him as if he was the next target.