Pulling the sails tight and drawing them close in order to conceal the evidence of a murdered body floating down the river and by the viewers and the tourists, but that was always the plan.
Only due to the fact that the plan went off the rails. Perhaps fate had hand in this action, but there was no time to think about such a thing when there was bloodied work to do in this early hour of the day.
The boat drifted on by and soon there were people in view. The sails were down and those that were still standing needed to pose as some who may have had a small problem with getting their boat out of the river and into the open harbour, then out onto the ocean.
Of course, when the boat was close enough the the shoreline people asked if help was needed, and continuously help was rejected, for there were secrets that needed to remain as such.
Perhaps it was not intended for the whacked to be on the boat at the time, but even the best planned plans can go awry due to a number of different things.
On and on the boat drifted toward an exit and on and on more people were seen.
More people could see a pile of sails lying on the deck but none could see the slowly seeping red viscous liquid trying to reach out far from under and around the gentlemen who were doing their best to work out what the problems were with the sails not going on the way that they were meant to.
It was a clear run and, despite all forms of tension, there seemed to be no chance of failure.
Of course, it was always there, but it was easy for the cohorts to convince themselves that they were in the clear and that they had nothing to worry about at this point in time.
A breeze picked up, but it eventuated to nothing for the boat was unable to catch the wind at that time.
Well, it was unable to capture all of it, for the wind was still strong enough to gently guide the boat out and along the river further, but of course this was with the aid of the currents flowing outward at that time of the day.
Out of the river and into the harbour, and there was not much farther to go. The body had remained fresh and hidden and despite the distinct spreading of the red, everything still had been flowing with little difficulty. The standing people had gotten so far into their act that it seemed to be coming naturally to them at this point. They were bouncing off of each other and working their roles with grace and control.
Slowly through the harbour they drifted and they came to the exit. It was tense, but they were successful. Once away enough from view, the sails went back up.
The body went over.
The time it took to write five-hundred words: 06:59:94
I was aiming for tension (I think), but it escaped me.
Written at work.
Stupidity Hole 