Writing 101: Unlock Your Mind
20 minutes of unfiltered and unplanned wiriting, here we go:
The radio played “Sweet 16” for the fourth time, when John looked through the binoculars. What he saw hadn’t changed in the last 12 hours: yellow fields, green trees, a blue lake and on the other shore a big, white house. He opened his car’s door,so that the pipe smoke could ventilate out. There was no action on the street near the house, nor had he seen any movement in the house. But he knew that his target was in there. Hiding from his persuers, scheming his next big coup.
John didn’t know what made his target so valuable exactly, his clients had been a little foggy about the specific misdeeds. He was only told, that his target was clever, worked alone and wasn’t shy of using weapons.
There! In the second level of the houses west wing John saw a movement in the curtains. Maybe it was only the wind or a cat? No, the windows were all closed and he had not seen a cat anywhere near the building before.
“Well, now or never …”, John said to himself and left his car. After he made sure that his weapon was in it’s place, he tamped his pipe while moving slowly, like a wanderer, through the light woods. Always an eye on the houses second level.
Ten minutes later John had reached the property. A nine-foot wall rose in front of him. No biggy for his trained body: Parcours was part of his regular training routine. On the other side he landed in bushes of white roses and got his hands scratched, as he tried to slow down his landing speed. For a moment he endured in crouching position, until he was sure that nobody had seen him.
With a few big leaps he reached the west wing’s main door, a mighty two-winged oak portal. The carvings seemed european to John and he couldn’t shake the feeling that the door itself was worth a year’s salary. Careful he opened it, trying to prevent any squeaky noise.
The pipe hanging in his mouth’s corner, he drew his gun and put the safety off. With his free hand he corrected the position of his kevlar vest. Except his steps and the cracking of century-old beams in the ceiling, there was no noise in the building. He climbed up the stairs and searched for the room he had seen the movement in.
Sweat ran down his entire body, as he lightly pressed on the door of the suspicious room. It went open without a sound and in a fluent move John strided into the middle of the room, pointing his gun in all it’s corners … but there was nothing, the room was empty to the last dust grain.
As he realized that he stepped into a trap, a cold barrel pressed itself against the back of his had. He had no time to turn around. The last thing he heared was how the stranger, his target, pulled the trigger.
“Sorry, Mister John, your 20 minutes of virtual reality are up. Thank you for using our QuickIllusion Service, the NextGen VR Corporation hopes you enjoyed your stay. See you soon!”, the computer voice said and with a terrible headache (of which he knew it would cease in the next ten minutes) John stepped out of the egg-shaped device and made place for the next depressed worker bee.
Still he had to waste three hours until his next shift in the factory would begin. Without thinking about it, he automatically lined up again and looked at the colourful promotion videos, as he thought about another way to enter the mansion … next time he would be the one pulling the trigger. That’s for sure!