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Short story for a contest:


My second entry:

The girl on the stage had just run onto it, chasing her target; the person she was supposed to kill. She stared at the bright lights, as she saw people cheering in front of her. Katana in hand, she narrowed her eyes into the lights, glaring at someone in the wings.

Her friend laughed, guesturing for her to sing. They were at a kareoke club, and Jamie, the assassin, had been lured here. She glared at her friend Jen, who was doubled over in silent laughter. She had planned this for Jamie, who would never sing in public. Even though she was a good singer, she was ashamed that she could sing, and that she was an assassin. Being a singer and assassin didn't mix very well, obviously.

A song started playing, and Jamie turned pale, immediatly recognizing the beginning. Jen ran onstage, took the katana out of Jamies hand, and replaced it with a microphone. Jamie glared at the microphone, as if it was the microphones fault that she was up onstage, about to sing.

Whie the song progressed, it got closer and closer to the beginning of the words

Not done, sorry!