Gypsy Assassin

He smiles.

It’s a simple upward twitch of the corners of his mouth. It’s barely a movement, yet it turns him from stranger into friend.

The baron watches him flip a card and lay it on the table between them.

The gypsy taps it. It’s the eighth card in the cross. The last one to be played. It depicts a man, rotting into skeleton. He holds a scythe. His face is mostly concealed by the hood of a black robe. Only his teeth and chin are seen and the subtle glow of two round hollow eyes.

“La Mort,” the gypsy says. “Changes coming for you mister.”

“What changes?”

The air turns in the little wagon, one of many in the royal convoy, from warm congeniality to cold impartiality. “Nothing personal mister,” he says with the slightest hint of sadness in his voice.

The gypsy shifts in his seat. The movement is subtle but quick.

The baron wishes to ask, what, but can’t seem to get his tongue to form the words.

Then hot pain in his throat.

He places his hand there and pulls it away wet and red with blood.

He gurgles afraid.

The gypsy gathers his cards, wraps the deck in a colorful scarf and places them in his satchel just in time to watch the Baron’s head slam against the little wooden table.

He stands, stretches his arms up to the ceiling and grabs the lantern burning there casting a yellow light.

He tosses the lantern onto the Barons bed and waits for the flames and smoke to consume the mattress before slipping away into the dark night just moments before the camp explodes with the excitement of the fast spreading fire.




Art: Basano – Gypsy Assassin

By; narthyxa




Author: Bryan Aiello

I call NYC home and wish the subway went everywhere and Times Square didn't suck. I saw John Turturro once. Maybe it was him. He was wearing a yellow shirt and smiled at me like he knew I knew. I am an Army vet who writes. I like characters who want more then they deserve. I like genre fiction. I love space. I love paladins. One day I might write a paladin in space story. Just you wait. The university of South Florida spit me out with a degree in creative writing and I find myself questioning the sanity of going to a school that advertises a fake beach on its brochure ever since. I intuit grammar. I Got married in 2012 We had twins in 2015. I do a lot of cooking and dog walking and ranting about the unfairness of sentience. You can follow me on Twitter: @bryaiello Wattpad: My Subreddit: My Reddit profile: Like my work? Become a patron at:

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