This month I’m doing a Creative Writing challenge! Today’s installment:
5. Something historical.
Harvey looked casually down at his feet, as they carried him past a police officer. His hands were crammed into his pockets, trying to hide the subtle shake that had been with him since daybreak. It was hot out, and his entire body was damp with sweat.
“Damn this hot weather” he muttered to himself.
He ducked down an alleyway, where the shade provided a welcome break from the blistering sun. At least the weather helped to conceal any sweat excreted as a result of his nerves. Despite all of his planning, he simply couldn’t help but feel frightened today.
“Damn that stench” he said, a little louder this time. Yes, the shade was cooler, but it did nothing to conceal the alley’s smell.
Harvey slipped out of the alley and crossed a dead sidestreet. Most of this area had been blocked off to vehicle traffic, and by now most of the pedestrians were lining the route. Just across the street, a tall building loomed into the clear, blue sky. He slipped into the back alley next to it, and turned sharply to his left. From his back pocket he withdrew a tool, and at once set at picking the lock of the door in front of him. The well-practiced technique quickly opened the door, and, with a quick glance over both shoulders, Harvey entered the building. So far, so good.
He climbed a couple flights quickly, attempting to step as lightly as possible. He paused on the second floor to push a ceiling panel away and retrieve a metal suitcase. After a flight or two more, he reached the destination floor. This time, the door was unlocked, and he slipped silently into the room.
The noise of the crowd below drifted up on the breeze that came through the single window left open. A stack of crates near the window sat at the ready, and Harvey took a seat.
“This is it” he said, inhaling deeply, “time to relax.”
He sat, eyes closed, breathing controlled, for a full minute. The sound of the crowd below was growing, and he knew that the time was at hand. He opened the suitcase, and from its padded interior he withdrew the rifle. With swift, sure motions he assembled the weapon, then withdrew a clip from the suitcase and slid it up inside the clip chamber.
The sound of motorcycles below signaled him. A patriotic song was playing from someone’s radio in the distance; a seemingly fitting anthem.
Harvey put his eye to the scope. The crosshairs drifted carefully along the route, seeking their target. Finally, the shiny, black car came into focus. As expected, the top was down, exposing all within. The passengers in the back seat rode proudly, waving at the adoring crowds.
Now is the time.
Harvey inhaled and held his breath. The crosshairs centered on his target, and without a moment’s hesitation he pulled the trigger.
“Shit!” he exclaimed, as the first bullet exploded from his barrell. He chambered a second bullet, and lined up the sights once again.
The gun exploded again, and with a sigh of relief he confirmed his target. Screams sounded below as the joyous procession turned to chaos. He stood up and pulled the gun from the window, backing away into the shadows.
“Congratulations” he said to himself, “Lee Harvey Oswald, you’ve just shot the President of the United States.”
Note: I’m not sure how historically accurate this is. It’s historical fiction, so please just appreciate it for what it is. Thanks.