THE HAWTHORNE EFFECT

Up from above the rooftop, the assassin readied his rifle; its telescopic end pointing at the building opposite him. He bent it slightly to focus on the window of the Eighth floor. The section had multitudes gathered, all dressed in suits and gowns radiating opulence and drawing envy in the assassin. He had his eye looking at everyone and everything. A fundraising gala for law enforcement turned into a modeling arena by rich punks, how elegant—the assassin thought as he pushed in 6 bullets steadily into the rifle. His attention and target turned to the direction of a different person; a man and then a woman who joined him. She had on a smile after they hugged. The assassin frowned; his facial muscles tightening and lips

As the rains descended high from the skies over the roof tops of the bar, Ottoman sat still monitoring his coffee as it grew cold by the minute. His thoughts weren’t with the coffee as he barely took a sip from it; something the bartender noticed, along with the other patrons. As he sat still; eyes monitored him from spread out corners, making it obvious he was the sore thumb amongst them. Compared to the rest, he stuck out like an odd number; his beards, his sharp eyes and numb lips, his brown skin all gave him away. In as much as he tried to fit in; shaving off a short portion of his beard and putting on American suited clothes, he couldn’t fool anyone to being one of them. He missed Texas during the winter; it was the getaway season. You could come and go without seeming suspicious. Tapping the tea c

Ava made it out of Block C and to the infirmary alive but the guards and the other inmates, not so lucky as they perished or fell to their deaths when the bullets struck them. Where the bullets came from was the suspense itself as whichever direction anyone made it to, it hit them dead. How Ava on the other hand was able to make it through without getting hit was another mystery or perhaps a miracle to her as she stood glaring around for would be answers. All she found in return was dead silence. She had found herself mysteriously rising from bed not knowing when she slept off to the sight of inmates and guards alike running and noise increase a thousand fold as shots sailed the air. Soon, it transcended the sounds of gunshots and screams to the scent of blood flying in the air and a swarm of dead bodies covering the sight of the prison block.

The noise died down completely and without warning before Darragh could make it to the next paragraph in his read. Seeing how strange and funny it was for all inmates to go silent at once, he closed the book immediately only to catch sight of multiple shadows casted on the wall opposite him. He looked up to catch sight of multiple guards, 4 in number staring down at him with serious faces. No time for jokes? Darragh wondered. “On your feet, Schols!” the lead guard shouted; with a deep throated raspy voice. “Hey…” Darragh got up immediately as if in protest, only to but back down as his cell bars opened. “What’s going on?” he asked afterwards as the 4 guards marched in at once. “We do the questioning here, convict!” one of the guards informed before dragging Darragh together with the aid of the other three, out of the cell.

“Look…the intel I gave you was the real deal, men” Esteban argued looking at the two Federal Agents in front of him. “Or you told us what you thought we wanted to hear” Agent Eamon countered with a brisk smile. He looked to his partner to see him nod. Esteban finding humour in the statement, shook his head before looking at the Agents again. “Jesus…am I crazy?” he said, “We made a deal…now, why would I lie when our agreement is my only card outta here, amigo?” “The better question…why would you betray your wife…?” Agent Roald laid, looking at Agent Eamon. There were holes in his story but then again, his story was the only thing that made sense.