Once upon a time there lived an assassin, a frail-limbed, black-nailed grandmother of assassins, with one eye missing. She had lived a very long time, had become a grandmother of assassins, not because she was daring, or quick, but because she was cautious.
"Be cautious," she would tell the girls, as they watched her closely and respectfully, their young eyes gleaming through the black fabric of their masks. "If there are many guards, if there are dogs, go back a different night, go in another door. If the moon is very full, stay away. Check twice for piano wire along the floors."
Many of them did not heed her advice, and met horrible and grotesque ends. She shook her head when this happened, but never wept for them. "This is not a job for those who crave excitement," she would say.
by Brian Minter, assassin fan