A writing exercise: Franz Kafka II

The task:

Write a passage in which somebody creeps up on someone else, as if you were describing a sequence of shots in an old silent movie.

The rain poured hard against the cobbled street, muffling my footsteps. But still, I held my breath. The moon lit up my path, a full moon that glinted down the narrow street.

He was stood beneath a lamp post, struggling to light his damp cigarette.

10 more steps and I would be upon him.

He resorted to lighting his cigarette beneath his long trench coat.

I drew my knife from under my coat, perfectly weighted, cold and hard.

His cigarette lighter flickered into life, reflecting off the puddles at my feet.

I heard him curse under his breath.

He discarded the damp cigarette and reached for a fresh one from his enameled cigarette container. He had misplaced the lighter and was now patting his body down, searching for it.

“Need a light?” I said as I stuck the knife between his ribs.

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