Thunder rumbles in the distant as storm clouds slowly advance over the small town of Mockton,population two-hundred. I've called this quaint little town home for the past ten years. It has all the charm  of my hometown  in the deep south without an over abundance of rednecks or hillbillys. Like most small towns Mockton has a  school(Kindergarten through twelfth grade), two  small grocery stories,  a thrift store, parts store, and a few other businesses. Not much in the way of entertainment but everyone doesn't seem to mind. Crime is low with only a few reports of vandalism,usually  the local kids having fun. Strikes of lightning illuminate the darkening sky a warning for me to retreat inside before the downpour comes. turning my gaze from the sky I raise the hood of my jacket and secure it tightly before slinking back into the shadows.

Tonight marks my first practice run. I picked this small town for a reason,it's remote and the law enforcement consists of a lone sheriff and deputy. After the death of Skip, I tried to run away countless times but luck was against me. In those remaining years Dad taught me to never be weak and always practice before you break the law. I never heard mom's voice again after that day. Ronnie deemed it as a weakness and beat it out of me. He was right, I was young, weak, and helpless. I'm a man now and I have the scars to prove it.

Footsteps arrive from the street, startling me. Down on all fours I inch my way behind a group of  shrubbery, silent and hidden. A middle-aged woman walks  toward the front door of the house. Medium length blond hair with an athletic build, wearing a purple wind-breaker. She pauses  and removes the keys from her pants pocket. With the skills of a covert agent I sneak up behind her with my knife at the ready.

"What a wonderful night!"

The End

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