Putting My Feet in the Dirt 1 and 2

A fragrant fog obscured the secret doors on 75th street. Of course I had not been in London before and it had been a long journey. I had always heard about the iconic foggy London town but had been told it was also a myth.

However, the fish market odor was unmistakable, certainly one of my lesser favorites. I had come in secret you see, as most assassins do and found a willing harborite to sneak me onshore. A pouch of silver usually bought temporary silence and that’s all I needed. My job would be accomplished quickly and he was paid to wait.

Finding the correct house number I made fast work of the person within. One short stab right into his heart was all it took.

I made my way back through the passageway and was once again safe on the sea.

***

2018/08/01/August-writing-prompts/

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