Price Paid

A story about death

I was walking down the empty lane at midnight. I tried hard to cover my blood stained clothes even though I knew no one would be wandering on that part of town so late at night. I walked as fast as I could. My phone rang. I picked it up and didn't say a word like I was asked to. After about five seconds, a deep voice from the other side said, "Jones, 45 Gate way street" and hung up. So that was where I was expected tommorow. To kill. It was my job to kill. I got paid for it. I find it hard though to explain the pleasure I get on seeing a man bleed to death, right before my eyes.
I had just slaughtered one now, someone my boss said had been trying to run away from debts that he owed him. I didn't care why I killed, even though they would always tell me the most unlikely reasons to kill the people that I did.
I had to get back to my car before anyone should see me, and I was stupid enough to park it three streets away from where I had work to do. In a few minutes, or hours, the cops would be here and I didn't want to be caught. I kept turning around, to see if someone was watching me. After a while I had a disgusted feeling of someone following me. I walked faster, and so did he. I was able to see his faint shadow by the side lines. I pretended that I hadn't seen him yet but held my two knives in both my hands. He was coming closer. I turned around and as though stabbing him with my right hand, I reached for him. He took his gun out and before he could shoot, I ducked to the left and stabbed him with the other knife. Two kills in one night. Great.
I thought about what my mom used to tell me when I was a boy . She told me that you have to pay the price for everthing that you do. I had never believed in that, or I  was probably too scared to admit it. If you always paid the price, then death should have caught up with me ages ago. But It didn't. I had been slipping from it many times now.
As I was running these random thoughts about in my mind, I reached my car. I got in and reflected more on these. Tommorow I'd be there again, taking some one else's revenge. I turned to my right and gazed at the empty street. And the last thing I remember seeing is a huge truck crashing into my car. And the rest, I hope to explain sometime in my next life.

Reviews

[Cynthia]

That's a great story! I love the thinking of that boy. I can tell he do get paid, in his heart. Now, everytime he kill, every time he felt sad or scar. The scar in his heart is the scarriest, no one can get rid of this feeling except when you do something better again. That's a really good story! This short story was really great, I enjoy it while reading!

[Detective Watts]

I guess you could call that Carma

[B MacGregor]

Always in the next life. Something comforting in that. Intiguing.

[Jessica]

Great story this time, again. But do you think that it is not sutibale for little kids.
for me, it is quite .....good, but too short for a professional writer.
I enjoyed it!

[Marie Harrison]

Great foreshadowing in your story. I loved the imagery and the intensity that played throughout the lines. This was an excellent short story. I enjoyed reading your story.

[FocusedAmnesia]

This was a great read. And the ending was... phenomenal. After thinking about what his mother used to tell him, paying the price for your actions, and how he has avoided death, BAM, a truck comes at him. Amazing story.