Details are sketchy

This week I start back for my third year, actually starting my Integrated Masters degree this year and really looking forward to starting it. After asking about doing some more theory work on top of my other work my theory teacher from last year asked me if I want to be one of the editors on a university journal which is great news and I think i'll be taking her up on the offer. Should be fun and can't wait to get started on both that and working out a new essay to try to get published in the journal too.

I've been doing as much stuff as possible in the few days I have left before we start back. Been watching the season premiers of the tv shows returning and reading a lot. Not to mention practicing writing a bit. I was watching the first season of Alias the other day and realised I'd never written something in that secret agent sot of genre before so I decided to do that. Here's what I wrote for the beginning of a story that I've got no idea how to develop, Comments would be great :)

Bullets and blades riding the air like whispered secrets of the deadliest nature. They travelled with such a silence and with such speed that passersby could neither hear nor see the things that picked them off one by one. Each of them fell so gracefully with little more than a moan. Within the time it took them to take their last few steps, twelve men, women and children lay there dead.

Dust still unsettled around the fallen residents of this part of the city, a man approached one of the victims. He was dressed in a simple suit, frayed here and there and not the typical Armani attire you would see many of his co-workers wearing. He reached down towards the young woman at his feet, gently brushing aside her fair brown locks to reveal delicate features stained with a splash of crimson from the deep and evidently fatal wound to her chest. Lifting up her chin, he looking deep into her cold, dead eyes and realising she was not the individual he was searching for, he callously threw her to the pavement, breaking her neck and letting out a deafening crunch.

A sick smile spread across his face and stretching his arms above his head, he shrugged off the botched bloodbath before him. He raised his head, his face blank and sinister, pointing to the next bustling street of unsuspecting pedestrians. He spoke into the microphone attached to his collar and the smile reappeared as he gave the same signal that had started the silent massacre and walked calmly towards his next victims.