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The Accident Original Writing Essay

1888 words - 8 pages

The Accident - Original Writing

I can hear the boisterous wind charging through the icy caverns of the
station. My polished, black leather shoes pad against the escalator
stairs, as I rub at the chafing collar of my shirt, aware of the
irritating dampness. Everything seems to be going against me. Morality
has a vice-like grip on my stiff shoulders, and it is beginning to
yank me back. Gripping the cold handle of my briefcase offers some
reassurance, but remembering the contents sends an ominous shiver up
my spine. They did not say the first job would be so hard.

The grime, embedded in the rugged tiles, adds to the dingy, depressing
surroundings. A crumpled crisp packet flits across the surface, as
another tube roars past. It is as if I have just entered the
minotaur's den, and luckily escaped the clutches of the savage beast.
I begin to walk more briskly, as an unpleasant stench wafts from the
nearby toilets. Have they never heard of such a thing as disinfectant
or cleaners? Inefficiency is a rapidly spreading disease, and it needs
a cure soon. Failure to succeed, especially in my line of work, has
inconceivable consequences.

The relative quiet is broken by the monotonous drone of the
loudspeaker dictating various platforms, and a raucous group of
youths. I glower at them as they began ridiculing a humble tramp who
is coughing vigorously, blatantly distressed. My moral arrow tells me
I should go and prevent this, however the objectives involved include
avoiding all human contact. The one on the left hand side, a stocky
teenager with a crew cut and a hideous earring, begins making
offensive gestures with his free hand, the other cupping a can of
beer. I cannot help but produce a wry smile, as all those lowlifes
inevitably come to a bitter end. Human litter needs to hastily
disposed of, at least that is what they told me.

As I approach the platform, I begin reciting the routine. They make it
sound so simple, as if ethics has no part to play. I close my weary
eyes, and picture myself, climbing the stairs. The hotel workers will
be in the foyer, or preparing the bedrooms. The staircase up will no
doubt be deserted, so roof access will be naturally simple. Some
humans are so predictable; their idle nature means that they are
prepared to flock to the comfort of a lift. Then the preparation, and,
as they re-iterated, the model is ruthlessly accurate. They promised
not a quiver, instant satisfaction with one flick of the finger tip,
and then a generous reward. Remorse and guilt are the enemies in this
game, and the devil is your ally. Inefficiency has inconceivable
consequences.

I remove the creased picture of the target from my shirt pocket. His
sour expression and slick-backed hair fit the cunning, sly stereotype
of a money launderer. I have read intently about how he had...

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