Writing Prompt: You're a hitman with a conscience. Before every kill you help the victim check something off their checklist.

[I’m a hitman. It’s not an easy job, but it’s what I do best. I don’t get to pick them. The order comes in and I never ask questions. I just do the job.]

As she walked into the living room there was a look on her face as if she knew what was going to happen. A single rose petal has already fallen off and landed on the table as if put there on purpose. The candles were freshly lit and the sounds of John Lennon’s “Love” echoes through the house. Every detail has been planned out to perfection. There isn’t one thing out of place. Everything is…just as she wanted.

John sat there with his hands shaking. Why was he so nervous? Thoughts about what she would do if she found out his secret ran through his head. This wasn’t the time to think about that. Could he really be nervous about this, though? He had developed nerves of steel. He had to break the tension.

“Love is real, real is love,” John starts to sing with the record that is slightly warped, but it was the only one he could find in such short notice. She loved old records. John was never a singer. In fact, when his high school had a musical, they asked him to be a stagehand. The reason is because everyone knew he couldn’t sing, nor should he attempt it. Tonight, he put all that aside and put forth his best effort. He couldn’t be scared. This isn’t about him. It’s about her. It’s all about her.

[I’m a hitman. It’s not an easy job, but it’s what I do best. The problem is that I have a conscience. It’s a heavy one, too. How does a hitman do his job when he feels guilty about what he is doing?]

Her countenance wasn’t like ever before. She was radiant. This was her moment and she knew it. Not one detail had been left out. For John, the best part about having her in his life was seeing her smile. Somehow, her smile would make his dark world seem a lot brighter. He had never seen her smile like this. His throat was dry and his hands were shaking, but he was ready. He was almost as nervous as the first time they met.

John, as Alexia knew him, came waltzing into the coffee shop one early morning; a coffee shop she frequented quite often. She would order her coffee, open her MacBook, and go to work. One of the highlights of being a successful online entrepreneur was getting to set her own hours and go wherever she wanted. This coffee shop was her favorite. She never bothered anyone else. Silently, she would sit there watching the people interact and scurry away to face their days. Her favorite was sitting at the coffee shop in the evenings because every now and then she would get to observe someone meeting for a first date. It was awkward, but she loved it. That’s when he walked in.

[I’m a hitman. It’s not an easy job, but it’s what I do best. The way I balance that pesky conscience of mine is to help my victim check something off their bucket list.]

John was different. He walked directly to her table, sat down, and stared at her for what seemed like an eternity. He was a somewhat rugged man who looked like he had been in a fight or two, but something about his eyes put her at ease; like everything was going to be okay. After a few seconds he finally broke the silence.

“Three weeks,” John blurted out. “Three weeks I have come in here with the intentions of talking to you, but we never cross paths. Do you know how frustrating that is?”

“Excuse me,” questioned Alexia. “First of all, I have no idea who you are. I would remember those eyes anywhere. Second…no really…who are you?”

“My name is John and we are going on a date today. We must. Unfortunately, you can’t say no.” John let out a chuckle because Alexia blushed, but gave a huge smile. That was the first time he fell in love with her smile. He was hooked.

“Oh, are we,” asked Alexia playfully. “And why do you think we are going to do that?”

“I don’t know. Maybe because you and I are a lot alike. You like watching the couples interact. I have a habit of doing the same thing. So, I knew we would be a perfect match.” John took a sip of his black coffee and continued. “About that date. What’s your favorite food?”

“You’re definitely confident. That’s for sure. I guess since I can’t say no,” she paused and let out a slight laugh that would melt the heart of any man. “Soul food. That’s my favorite food and there isn’t one–”

“Aunt Mae’s on 32nd. Have you been there?”

[I’m a hitman. It’s not an easy job, but it’s what I do best. I’ve seen some dark things, done some dark things, but this is by far the hardest thing I’ve ever done.]

Tonight was the night, her night. John had planned for this night from almost the beginning. He knew it would happen after their first date. He knew that her favorite artist also shared the same first name as he did. He knew what her favorite love song from him was. Although cliche, he knew that her favorite flower was the white rose. Cooking was never his strong point, but he learned to cook homemade chicken and dumpling's from scratch. He did this just for her.

“John,” Alexia loudly shrieked. “This is beautiful! Holy shit, my mom is going to freak. Wait! Did she know? I had no idea. Did you talk to my dad? I bet they knew. That’s why they were acting weird on the phone earlier. How long did they know? Did you…”

After giving her a few minutes to work through her nerves and excitement, John was finally able to get her attention.

“Come here. Sit down. I have something for you.”

He handed her a small leather-bound journal, watched her open it, and she then began to read it. Inside it he had written very detailed notes about the two of them. Every page was filled with intimate details about each date they went on, how she seemed to almost skip with the first step when she was excited, and how she felt like she could rescue every stray cat she came across. John had detailed everything about their relationship. She sat there and flipped through it for 5 minutes carefully reading each word. She turned the final page and immediately started crying. Carved out inside the book was a place for a ring to fit. John got down on one knee and asked one simple question.

“Alexia, will you marry me?”

John knew he would be far too nervous to say anything beyond that. That’s why he gave her the journal. Alexia blubbered through the moment, but somewhere amid her unrecognizable speech he made out the word yes. Alexia’s picture-perfect moment was hers to remember. John had never felt happier.

[I’m a hitman. It’s not an easy job, but it’s what I do best. Today, I am helping my target check something off their bucket list…getting engaged.]

The headline came across my screen, “Governor Calls For Seclusion”. Just like everyone else, I assumed this was an overreaction. Social media was ablaze with the endless memes about the immediate toilet paper shortage, being bored by day two, and all the babies that would be here 9 months from now. That last one made me giggle a little bit. Hidden amid those posts were the posts from people who didn’t know how they would handle being isolated for so long. They had bigger things to worry about. Who cares about toilet paper if they struggle with health issues already? Who cares about getting bored when they barely make enough money to pay their bills? I, however, have a different outlook than everyone else.

“This is great! I’ve been preparing for this for years,” I joyfully exclaimed to my wife. “Is it wrong for me to thank corona virus for this?”

She laughed because she gets me. She also laughed because she’s full of joy and laughs at everything. If I were to judge myself through her eyes, then I would have to assume I’m the greatest comedian that has ever lived.

Isolation is easy. I’m autistic. Sometimes it’s a superpower. Sometimes it’s a curse. Isolation is something I do already. To me, the outside world is just a little too scary. People are loud, certain lights are too bright, eyebrows often reflect a different emotion than what the person is expressing...there are a lot of things that make the outside world confusing for me.

I’ve been in isolation my entire life.

About 6 months ago, I was in a large room that was full of people. Even when standing in that crowd I was perfectly isolated. That had become my routine. In my mind are walls that have been constructed; they’ve been built to keep other people out. I don’t want to bring too much attention to myself, so I have learned to blend in; I know how to fake being “normal”. That’s not easy, by the way...you know...appearing to be normal.

The other day I was talking to someone when I began to laugh. It only took me about 15 seconds to realize that my laughter wasn’t okay. Just as I’ve done on many occasions, I misread the statement. Did you know subtext is a thing? People say one thing but they mean another. Do you know how difficult it is to navigate through life living like this?

Isolation has become a friend, my constant companion. The problem is that I hate it. It’s not a good feeling always feeling like an outsider. I had just gotten to the point of pushing myself; I was getting out and about. Although I sometimes have a meltdown or two, I was enjoying getting outside. Maybe pushing myself is a good thing. Maybe I will like meeting people and making new friends at 42 years of age. Maybe it’s okay to be atypical, to stand out and be confident in my oddities. After all, it’s those things that make me who I am.

Maybe I can do…

There is a knock at my door. I opened it to see that old familiar friend. He wasn’t happy to see me, and I didn’t want him to be standing at my door either. I had finally kicked him out to be a better me.

“Hello Isolation. It’s been a while,” I close the door behind him. “Everything is how you left it. Welcome back, I guess?”

“Hey, do you think it’s true?”

The look on 67’s face was one of dread. He was known to be somewhat skittish and it was the running joke between everyone that knew him. He would jump at almost anything. This is why it seemed like a joke when he got the job he did.

In the spirit world there is a hierarchy. From the day the spirit is born they are given a number. That is their name until the day they pass the trials. The trials are the last stage of going to school. For two years they work a very specific job. There is a lot of pressure to completing the job well. This decides where they will be assigned after graduation, how successful they will be, and where they will live. Although there is a lot of excitement to what job a spirit will get, these are still not the most glamorous of jobs. Because they’re in trials these are essentially the lowest of all the jobs in the spirit world. There is one place a spirit doesn’t want to get assigned.

Cleaning out dream catchers takes a lot out on a spirit. A few millennia ago this job wasn’t needed. One of the favored spirits went rogue and took a lot of spirits with him. Now they fill the night air with bad dreams. Dreamcatchers were created as a way to combat this. It takes a strong person to do this job. That’s why it didn’t make sense that a spirit like 67 would get this job. It didn’t fit any of his strengths at all. Each night the spirits in 67’s class are assigned a sector. Over the years there has been one story that has been passed down through the classes.

67 asked, “Do you think it’s true? You know, about sector 16 in the land of Under?”

“I don’t know,” replied 74. “I mean; don’t you think the leadership would have said something? And I don’t think they would send you there. No offense.”

“Exactly! That is what I was thinking, too. I am so ready to graduate. Two more moon cycles and we are done for good. Anything is better than this. Hey…74?” His voice quivered as he was talking to 74. “Can you do me a favor?”

“Yeah,” 74 replied. “Anything you want.”

67 continued, “Can you check on me before the sun shines on sector 16? Just in case is all.”

With a chuckle the two of them left it at that as they went about their night.

67 had cleaned out a few dreamcatchers that had him shaken up, but he thought this was because of his heightened awareness of what was to come. There are certain houses that seemed to be marked. Plenty of stories have been told as to why, but most spirits have agreed that only one of them makes sense. It seems that certain children have a very specific presence about them. These kids have a destiny to reach thousands upon thousands of people and change the world they live in. These are the houses that seemed to be marked. This house is the most infamous. It’s said that three spirits prior to 67 have never been the same.

67 went into the house and noticed that it was a lot darker than any house he had ever been in. He sat and stared at the dreamcatcher for fifteen minutes. It’s easy to let these bad dreams impact a spirit’s mood. Somehow it attaches itself to them. This is why they are required to go through a cleansing each time they get back to the office. 67 couldn’t bring himself to do it, but he knew he had to. If a dreamcatcher isn’t cleaned, then the bad dreams get through. Children have been known to completely abandon their destinies due to the impact of the bad dreams that were allowed to enter in.

67 had decided to clean it out. Hesitating wasn’t doing any good. He started to walk toward the dreamcatcher when all of a sudden something was different. The room was darker than it was before and the temperature dropped. 67 had encountered bad spirits before, but never had anything like this taken place. There was an eerily dark mass in the corner. 67 noticed he was weakening when he saw the mass approach him. With pale yellow eyes that glowed and a mist that slowly flowed around him the spirit began to speak.

“Coming here was a bad idea. You know what has to happen.”

With a slow and sinister laugh the dark spirit jumped toward 67.

[I’m a hitman. It’s not an easy job, but it’s what I do best. I don’t get to pick them. The order comes in and I never ask questions. I just do the job.]

As she walked into the living room there was a look on her face as if she knew what was going to happen. A single rose petal has already fallen off and landed on the table as if put there on purpose. The candles were freshly lit and the sounds of John Lennon’s “Love” echoes through the house. Every detail has been planned out to perfection. There isn’t one thing out of place. Everything is…just as she wanted.

John sat there with his hands shaking. Why was he so nervous? Thoughts about what she would do if she found out his secret ran through his head. This wasn’t the time to think about that. Could he really be nervous about this, though? He had developed nerves of steel. He had to break the tension.

“Love is real, real is love,” John starts to sing with the record that is slightly warped, but it was the only one he could find in such short notice. She loved old records. John was never a singer. In fact, when his high school had a musical, they asked him to be a stagehand. The reason is because everyone knew he couldn’t sing, nor should he attempt it. Tonight, he put all that aside and put forth his best effort. He couldn’t be scared. This isn’t about him. It’s about her. It’s all about her.

[I’m a hitman. It’s not an easy job, but it’s what I do best. The problem is that I have a conscience. It’s a heavy one, too. How does a hitman do his job when he feels guilty about what he is doing?]

Her countenance wasn’t like ever before. She was radiant. This was her moment and she knew it. Not one detail had been left out. For John, the best part about having her in his life was seeing her smile. Somehow, her smile would make his dark world seem a lot brighter. He had never seen her smile like this. His throat was dry and his hands were shaking, but he was ready. He was almost as nervous as the first time they met.

John, as Alexia knew him, came waltzing into the coffee shop one early morning; a coffee shop she frequented quite often. She would order her coffee, open her MacBook, and go to work. One of the highlights of being a successful online entrepreneur was getting to set her own hours and go wherever she wanted. This coffee shop was her favorite. She never bothered anyone else. Silently, she would sit there watching the people interact and scurry away to face their days. Her favorite was sitting at the coffee shop in the evenings because every now and then she would get to observe someone meeting for a first date. It was awkward, but she loved it. That’s when he walked in.

[I’m a hitman. It’s not an easy job, but it’s what I do best. The way I balance that pesky conscience of mine is to help my victim check something off their bucket list.]

John was different. He walked directly to her table, sat down, and stared at her for what seemed like an eternity. He was a somewhat rugged man who looked like he had been in a fight or two, but something about his eyes put her at ease; like everything was going to be okay. After a few seconds he finally broke the silence.

“Three weeks,” John blurted out. “Three weeks I have come in here with the intentions of talking to you, but we never cross paths. Do you know how frustrating that is?”

“Excuse me,” questioned Alexia. “First of all, I have no idea who you are. I would remember those eyes anywhere. Second…no really…who are you?”

“My name is John and we are going to go on a date today. We must. Unfortunately, you can’t say no.” John let out a chuckle because Alexia blushed, but gave a huge smile. That was the first time he fell in love with her smile. He was hooked.

“Oh, are we,” asked Alexia playfully. “And why do you think we are going to do that?”

“I don’t know. Maybe because you and I are a lot alike. You like watching the couples interact. I have a habit of doing the same thing. So, I knew we would be a perfect match.” John took a sip of his black coffee and continued. “About that date. What’s your favorite food?”

“You’re definitely confident. That’s for sure. I guess since I can’t say no,” she paused and let out a slight laugh that would melt the heart of any man. “Soul food. That’s my favorite food and there isn’t one…”

“Aunt Mae’s on 32nd. Have you been there?”

[I’m a hitman. It’s not an easy job, but it’s what I do best. I’ve seen some dark things, done some dark things, but this is by far the hardest thing I’ve ever done.]

Tonight was the night, her night. John had planned for this night from almost the beginning. He knew it would happen after their first date. He knew that her favorite artist also shared the same first name as he did. He knew what her favorite love song from him was. Although cliche, he knew that her favorite flower was the white rose. Cooking was never his strong point, but he learned to cook homemade chicken and dumpling's from scratch. He did this just for her.

“John,” Alexia loudly shrieked. “This is beautiful! Holy shit, my mom is going to freak. Wait! Did she know? I had no idea. Did you talk to my dad? I bet they knew. That’s why they were acting weird on the phone earlier. How long did they know? Did you…”

After giving her a few minutes to work through her nerves and excitement, John was finally able to get her attention.

“Come here. Sit down. I have something for you.”

He handed her a small leather-bound journal, watched her open it, and she then began to read it. Inside it he had written very detailed notes about the two of them. Every page was filled with intimate details about each date they went on, how she seemed to almost skip with the first step when she was excited, and how she felt like she could rescue every stray cat she came across. John had detailed everything about their relationship. She sat there and flipped through it for 5 minutes carefully reading each word. She turned the final page and immediately started crying. Carved out inside the book was a place for a ring to fit. John got down on one knee and asked one simple question.

“Alexia, will you marry me?”

John knew he would be far too nervous to say anything beyond that. That’s why he gave her the journal. Alexia blubbered through the moment, but somewhere amid her unrecognizable speech he made out the word yes. Alexia’s picture-perfect moment was hers to remember. John had never felt happier.

[I’m a hitman. It’s not an easy job, but it’s what I do best. Today, I am helping my target check something off their bucket list…getting engaged.]

Dear son,

These are lessons I wish I would have grasped early on.

Respect should always be given. Respect others even when they don't respect themselves.

Show honor wherever you go. There will be plenty of people who don't deserve it, but you should go out of your way to show it.

Seek to serve others. In a culture focused on self we need men who will serve people without any expectation of recieving something in return.

Be love! Unconditional love is something most men forget to show. Show the world what it means to love with everything you have. Love is not a weakness; it's a strength.

Make it your daily mission to live your life doing these things. They will open doors no man can open. It's up to you to leave this world better than you found it.

Sincerily,

Your father.

Heath held the note in his hands as he sat in his parked 1996 Cavalier.  He drove 1100 miles to get to Flagstaff, Arizona. After one blown tire and an overheated radiator, he sat in front of the house listed in the letter.  Aside from the faded paint and dingy windows, it looked just like it did in the picture that was enclosed. He had been sitting in front of the house for a while, scared.  He showed up early and waited, hoping to calm his nerves. For Heath, this was a fear of the unknown. Why was he here? Why would his father, Glen, lead him to a house he’s never seen?

Nothing in the envelope specified why he was here either. In it was a small letter with limited, but specific instructions.  It gave a date and time to show up to the address listed. Included was a key attached to a worn-out wooden keychain. The note read: “Heath, I know you have a lot of questions, but I assure you everything will make sense shortly.  When you get to the house at this address knock once instead of using the doorbell, then use the key to come in. You’ll know what to do when you get inside. I love you, seed planter.”

Heath smiled as he read the note repeatedly.  He couldn’t help but recall all the great times he had with his father.  Although he was only 13 when his father passed away, he had a plethora of wonderful memories.  He often reflected on the last few days with his dad. He could sometimes still smell the hospital room.  The smell was a mixture of the cafeteria meatloaf neither one of them ate and rubbing alcohol. It was during the last few days when Glen handed Heath the envelope.

“Bud, I need you to take this,” Glen stated as he shakily handed over the envelope.  “Don’t open it until your 25th birthday.  This is my gift to you, but you must wait until then.  Promise me you will honor my request. That’s very important.  I pray you forgive me for keeping secrets. Heath,” a tear trickled down his father’s cheek as he gave a huge smile. “Heath, everything I did was done to protect you, to help guide you in a better direction than what my father did for me.  He took advantage of the gift this family was given. Look, you’re stronger than you know. I’ve always known that. Don’t lose this letter. Put it somewhere safe.”

It wasn’t too long before that moment when cancer struck Glen with a vengeance.  After spending a couple of weeks being sick, Glen decided to get help. The doctor delivered the bad news of stage 4 pancreatic cancer, and Glen didn’t even seem to be fazed by it.  Heath had always known his father to be a strong, intense, but loving man. He was the kind of man who would do anything for anybody. Glen, being a single father, would take his son to serve the community every Saturday.  Although they were always on the move, the two of them would find a way to serve the people. One Saturday they may be serving food to the homeless, then another day they would be picking up trash along the road.

“We never wait for someone else to make this world a better place,” Glen would repeatedly tell his son.  “It’s up to us to plant seeds of good and hope someone else comes along to water them.”

Heath sat in his car watching the minutes pass until it was finally time. He got out of his car and walked up to the door.  There was something refreshing about the air here. On the gate into the yard was a handmade welcome sign. Heath couldn’t help but think that the writing looked familiar.  He was being overly cautious as he stepped into the yard. Heath didn’t know what expectations he had, but this definitely wasn’t it. Driving 1100 miles leaves a lot of time for the mind to run wild with endless possibilities.  Why would his father lead him here?

He looked around to see if anyone was watching.  There were only three other houses on the street and it didn’t look like anyone was home.  As he stepped on the first step it let out a loud creak which sent two nearby pigeons flying.  Heath looked to stable himself by grabbing the wobbly handrail. With his heart racing a slight laugh escaped from his lips.  The absurdity of this moment began to amuse him. He wasn’t known for being easily frightened.

He knocked on the door as the letter stated.  As he inserted the key into the lock, Heath felt like his heart had stopped.  Whenever he turned the key the click of the deadbolt indicated that the door was now unlocked.  Turning the doorknob was the most difficult part. His mind was flooded with questions. What if there’s nothing here?  Whose house is this? Why would I have to wait for this day specifically? What was his dad hiding?

He opened the door.  With the limited light shining through the windows, Heath could see a figure sitting in a chair on the far side of the living room.  The figure reached forward to turn on the lamp.

“Heath,” the familiar voice called out.  “Please come in! I’ve been waiting for you to get here.”

Heath was paralyzed.  He fell to his knees as the tears began to flow.

“Dad?  How are you here?” Heath stared in disbelief.  “And why doesn’t it look like you’ve aged?”

“Sit down, bud.  We have a lot to discuss.”