Memoirs of an Assassin #4 – Ignorance is Bliss

Throughout the course of my professional career, I have adopted a mantra of sorts. Before undergoing any job, I would tell myself “Ignorance is Bliss”. In the broad scope of things this is a terrible way to view life, but it my case it was the only way to remain focused. By remaining ignorant to the demented thoughts of twisted individuals, I had risen to the top of my field.

There comes a time in life when morals are tested. In the profession of assassination, this time typically leads to retirement. When one can not put personal feelings aside, they become a liability in this game. Employers take that liability very seriously and have gone to great lengths to ensure that employers are not the result of their downfall.

When my morality presented itself, I was stunned. I felt as though a freight train was baring down on me and I was unable to move. My heart racked with guilt and in a moment of weakness I caved. To this day I do not fully understand why I followed my heart rather than my instructions.

When Kara made the decision to execute her brother and save her immediate family, I was stirred to action. My plan was simple and all the pieces fell into place as I climbed into my truck and pulled away from the shipyard. Through the use of a GPS tracking device, I caught up with Christa and her teenage son Matthew. I picked my moment and effortlessly ran them off the road less than five miles from their home. The secluded area made it very unlikely for anyone to hear the two gunshots that finished the job.

In a matter of minutes I was creeping through their home when elderly Miriam presented herself to me. She was attempting to descend the basement steps when I gave her a gentle nudge. Her brittle body clambered down the the flight of stairs and landed heavily at an awkward angle. There was no doubt in my mind that she had not survived the fall.

In the living room I found my final victim. I can only imagine that I appeared as nothing less than pure evil as the afternoon sun shone through the open window and glinted off of my Springfield Armory 1911. A single round of .45 ammunition was more than sufficient for fifteen pounds of flesh.

When her wide eyes looked up at me, they brimmed with life. My heart raced and my breathing staggered as the tiny body launched itself from the sofa and began running around my feet. Her playful bark brought tears to my eyes as I weighed my task.

Was I to end the life of this purely innocent soul or risk my own for a mere puppy? I stood staring at nothing for what seemed an eternity before my decision was made. I bent down, grabbed the rottweiler by the scruff of its neck and took it up into my arms. Her stump of a tail wagged as a cold nose and wet tongue met my face.

“No little one, I will not allow you to be a part of this sick little game.” I spoke aloud, as if the animal could understand the passion in my words. The decision was made and I could only hope that it did not lead to my demise.


Memoirs of an Assassin is an ongoing serial. To get caught up from the beginning, please use the links below.

  1. The First of Many
  2. Score a Point for Dear Old Dad
  3. Tough Choices

This piece has been included into the #FridayFlash Twitter Group. For more info on that group, and to view a collective of stories, check out JM Strother’s Mad Utopia.

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