Lighthearted Creative Writing

Since my last post was a bit of a downer, I thought I'd share something I've been working on here and there. I do LOVE creative writing, and this is a story I've started. I will probably take a break from it since I have an awesome story idea I want to put all of my time and effort into, but if ya'll like it maybe I'll pick it up again. Enjoy!

​Sucker for Romance
​Hanna Heline

​ONE
It was a bitter morning in the heart of Kansas with the sun barely grazing over the skyline. Wind blew fiercely and the fresh snow brushed over the buildings making them look like gingerbread houses. Melanie waltzed throughout the city, taking in the quiet before the storm. Snow was funny that way. It hushed the voices and the sounds and the vibrations that a normally busy city would amplify. It made the day seem like an endless possibility of adventure instead of the mundane 9-5 job that everyone seemed to have. Even though calmness rang through the December air, Melanie’s thoughts were as loud as a fucking bull horn. Listing out the tedious tasks she needed to perform that day, the people she needed to please. She was sick of it and she was sure her clients could see past her facade. Swimming in her own world with her own thoughts she stopped noticing her surroundings. Cars and people faded from her vision and the whiteness from the snow blurred everything. Looking down at her hands she noticed a bright red shape forming on the ground, growing until everything around her was that blood red color. Her blood. Only then was the rest of the world heard. The pain and screams came, but her vision remained a mixture of white and red until the black void swallowed her up. The morning was bitter that day, but not because of the December air. Melanie Carmelle’s color faded before officials lined the streets and the yellow tape blocked off the sidewalk.
    In the shadows, long before Melanie dared cross the street, Daimen had timed his steps perfectly. The snow would make any escape nearly impossible if each intricate detail hadn’t been laid out before. He had tracked Melanie for weeks, making note every inch she walked and every person she talked to. He observed every detail of her work from who her clients were to when she took her lunch break. He was a professional and a damn good one at that. There was only one problem: he wanted out of the game. For years he had been everyone’s A-listed hit man. From the richest of the rich to the lower class beginners freshly diving into the harsh world of the elite, he could find and kill anyone. Only thing he needed to do was name his price and it would be handed to him on a silver platter. However, being a hit man brings many enemies and way too much drama. Daimen wanted a simple life and a simple retirement. They say to start early with retirement funds. Well, as a thirty year old man with a chiseled jaw line, not yet greying hair, and a muscular physique, he had his retirement plan figured out. The only loose ends he needed to tie up were briskly walking across the street as he waited in the darkness. The only one who knew his official identity - by mistake of course.
    Carefully, Daimen aimed his sniper. One shot through the heart, to make sure everyone knew how heartless she truly was. One shot was all he needed and one shot was all it took to watch her petite figure fall to the ground. With a smirk on his face Daimen slid the sniper into the apartment and gently latched the window. Once out of sight he packed up his things and unmasked himself. Shooting people was sweaty work complete with a pang of guilt and a tiring trail of thought. Wiping the sweat from his brow, Daimen replaced his black mask and slid out of the small apartment. It wouldn’t be long before the investigators followed the line of fire back to this building and Daimen would be long gone by then, leaving no evidence of his very existence. This is the last job he though. The last thing that stood in the way of my freedom. Now, who do I want to be?
    The air hit him to the core, sending a shiver up and down his spine. He had followed the sewage line allowing him to stay underground until he was about a mile and a half away from the incident. In the background he could hear sirens piercing the air causing chaos in the once serene environment. Before emerging into the open, he had traded his dark and very menacing look for a cut trouser and crisp jacket. The mask, along with the rest of his clothes, were burning in a trashcan below the interstate. Daimen lowered his head and walked to Connie’s,  the coffee shop around the corner. It was one of his favorite places on earth and the barista had memorized his order from the first week he had arrived in Kansas City.
    “Daimen! So good to see you. Staying out of trouble this morning?” Juliette exclaimed as he walked through the small shop. Juliette was a short, plump woman with bright red hair and a fresh young face. She was around 27 from what Daimen could gather having talked to her almost every morning for three years. Why she was still a barista he had no idea. She never seemed to be the smartest of the bunch, but he knew she had finished school a few years prior. Unfortunately for Juliette, Daimen didn’t like talking to people. He could care less about what she did or why she did it. Pretending to be interested in people, though, is what made Daimen’s cover so convincing.
    “Morning Juliette. You know trouble always finds me somehow.” He said with a wink. Juliette blushed as she continued preparing his morning coffee.
    Did he just wink at me? He’s never shown any type of emotion before. I wonder what’s going on in his head… She wondered. She couldn’t help but notice his handsome features while twirling around behind the counter. For three years she had been trying to get his attention. Three long years. Was she finally finding it?
    “Here you go! Black as always.” She chirped.
    “Thanks Juliette. You’re a life saver.” Before he could put his hand on the door he heard a faint call.
    “Hey Daimen?” Juliette asked. Daimen spun around at his name. Juliette’s gaze made its way to the floor before mustering up any last confidence she might have.
    “Yes?” Daimen replied.
    “The shop is having a fundraiser tonight. In case you’re interested of course. I just know how loyal of a costumer you are and thought you might want to show up.” Juliette rambled on for a little longer before Daimen interrupted. He could tell she was fascinated by him. In fact, he could tell she had been trying multiple things to get his attention for the last few years. He liked her and he liked this shop, but he didn’t need her drooling over him like a lost puppy.
    “I wish I could, but I’m busy this evening. It’s been a pleasure, as always.” He flashed her one last smile before exiting the shop. He didn’t want to be there for when her face dropped into disappointment. Onward bound, Daimen made his way to the office, carefully avoiding the block where Melanie’s body lay lifelessly on the ground. The sun began rising, changing the dark morning to a bright, orange tone. It was going to be a good day, he could feel it.