What A Crazy Coincidence


Castor Salone, a hitman, was in the middle of dragging a body down to a river. It wasn’t his preferred way to dispose of a body, but his client had requested for it to be done as such and Castor knew better than to go against his orders. After all, no matter what, he would be getting paid. As Castor got closer to the riverbank, he could hear the squelching of his boots against the mud. He groaned.
“Let’s just get it over and done with,” he mumbled. He had never been a fan of nature. He gripped the arm of the body with both of his gloved hands and threw the body into the river. It landed with a splash in the disgusting gurgling murky brown water. The river’s strong current would carry it far away enough by the time it would start to resurface.

Castor then spent the next few minutes wiping droplets off the river water and mud off his shoes with much disgust. He would properly disinfect them once he got back in the hotel but for now, he had more important things to do. He dusted himself off and straightened up, and was about to leave when he saw a frazzled looking young man standing as if he were frozen in step among the tree trunks across the river. His hair was a mess and his eyes were bleary and red, tear stains running down his cheeks. There was a look of sheer terror plastered on his face. In his arms, was the limp body of an old man. 

Castor stared at him, momentarily taken aback, his hand already reaching for the holster of his gun. Thoughts clouded his mind. Had he been seen? Why on earth was this man dragging what definitely seemed to be a dead body? Before Castor could even say or do anything, the man dropped the body, turned around and ran, but then stopped and turned back. He stared at the body, hesitant. His dilemma was clear. Castor watched on with slight amusement, almost forgetting that minutes ago, he too had a dead body in his hands. 

The longer Castor watched the man, the more questions flooded into his head. The man gave an anguished grunt as he attempted to drag the body with him, stumbling and fumbling in desperate panic, he slipped and fell on the muddy riverbank, clutching onto the body like a life buoy. During this, Castor had already made his way across the river using rocks that poked out from the water as a path. The man, after realising that Castor was now standing in front of him, scrambled to his feet and bolted off, abandoning the body. 

Instinctively, Castor took off after him. He had too many questions on his mind regarding this strange man to let him get away. The man was obviously not the most experienced runner as Castor caught up with him in no time. He didn’t even manage to get two metres away from the body before Castor grabbed his arm and pulled him down to the forest floor. “Never try to run from a hitman,” Castor mused to himself.

The man landed with a cry of pain. “Please don’t hurt me! I never meant to kill him I swear I swear! Please!” he sobbed as he desperately tried to pull himself back on his feet.
“Jesus Christ, calm down! What the hell are you talking about?” Castor said, pushing him back down. The man replied with a loud sob and some incomprehensible words. Castor sighed. He wouldn’t be getting any answers anytime soon at this rate. He’d have to go about this some other way. 

“Kid, what’s your name?”

The man looked up at him, his eyes red and bleary. “Mitchell,” he said, sniffling.
“Alright cool, Mitchell. Listen, I’m not here to hurt you or kill you or drag you off somewhere-”
“You’re not?” Mitchell said, in between sobs.
“No I’m not. I just have a few questions-”
“I didn’t mean to kill him, I swear!” Mitchell frantically interrupted.
“Yes I know, you were yelling that earlier. I really don’t-”
Mitchell didn’t let him finish. “I didn’t really didn’t mean to! I was just t-trying to help and I didn’t check the dosage of- of the morphine, I-I should have called a doctor or something- he was in so much pain I- I just wanted to help-” He paused to take a breath. The tears were really flowing now. Castor stared at him, not sure of what to say or do. Mitchell just kept on going.
“I loved him a lot, really. He was like a grandfather to- to me and I think he knew that. I-I mean, the man didn’t have any family left in his life. He was just slowly d-dying alone I thought the least I could do was keep him company and take care of him and his apartment and maybe even try to treat his sickness but-” Mitchell paused again and Castor snatched that opportunity to interrupt him. He couldn’t stand his pointless rambling for any longer.

“Kid, I know you didn’t mean to kill him, I think you have made that clear enough. Whether you are telling the truth, I have no idea, but if you really feel sorry, I don’t think you should just throw his body into a river. Maybe give him a proper burial or something,” he said, looking over at the lifeless, stale body of the old man.
“Well- I was too busy worrying about the fact that I had just killed someone and that I would probably be severely punished if someone found out so I had to dispose of the body as soon as possible… which just added on to my guilt and grief, for obvious reasons,” Mitchell replied. There was a moment of silence between the two of them, which was abruptly broken by, strangely enough, neither of them. Instead, it was a loud rustling noise.

Mitchell jumped. “What was that?” he asked, visibly panicking.
“It came from the bushes,” Castor replied in a whisper, his hand reaching for his gun. “Stay still.” The rustling continued, growing louder and louder, until something jumped out from the leaves. Castor didn’t hesitate. He whipped out his gun and pulled the trigger. A loud bang echoed through the forest.

Mitchell let out a blood curdling scream. “Calm down, it’s just a fox,” Castor murmured under his breath, walking over to the dead animal.
“Calm down? You want me to calm down? Why on earth do you have a gun?” Mitchell yelled, scrambling up to his feet. Then he froze and the little remaining colour drained from his face. “You are a cop aren’t you? You are going to take me away aren’t you?” he said, slowly backing away. “You lied to me, didn’t you?” Castor groaned. 

“No, I’m not a policeman, and no, I didn’t lie to you. I’m a hitman you idiot. I’m basically asking for a death wish if I turn you in,” he scoffed.
Mitchell stared at him dumbfounded. “You’re a… what?” he said, incredulously.
“A hit man,” Castor simply replied.
“A hit man? Like those people that commit literal murders for money?”
Mitchell still couldn’t wrap his head around this revelation. “So you’re telling me that I have just been running my mouth about accidentally killing someone to a hitman?” he said.
“Yeah pretty much. Though technically, that isn’t such a bad thing. I mean you are confessing your murder to a full time murderer.” Castor replied. Silence fell on the two of them once again. 

“But, you and I are still different. I have a conscience and… well, you don’t.” 

“I never said we were the same.”  

“Ah yes… that’s… true. Apologies, that was a bold assumption on my part, but I mean… do you seriously feel no guilt after you have killed someone?”

“Yeah. I suppose so. At least not any more. I just… got used to it.” 

Mitchell looked at the old man’s body and then at his hands. He hadn’t even realised they were trembling.
“I can’t even imagine getting used to ending lives,” he whispered. Castor looked at him.
“Well, it’s been ten years. After that long, you’d be surprised by how little you start to care about things. I mean, what is there to care about? You just do the job and get the money.” He turned to look at the old man’s body. “But I guess for you it’s a little different. I mean you never meant to kill the guy. From what I gather you might have even done him a favour.” Mitchell kept silent. 

“You know what?” Castor said. Mitchell looked up at him.
“Before we were rudely interrupted by the now dead fox, I was telling you about giving him a proper burial of some sort, as a way of closure for yourself, remember?”
“Yeah… I do,” Mitchell replied, hesitantly.
“Great. Wait here,” Castor said, promptly turning around and walking away. Mitchell stared after him, stunned.
“W-wait! Where’re you going?” he said.
“Just be patient and wait there, I’ll be right back!”
“Why should I trust you on that?” Mitchell yelled after him. Castor didn’t reply, but kept walking. “I swear to god… this man—” Mitchell grumbled, picking himself up and dashing after him. 

“I told you to wait there!” Castor said, staring at Mitchell as he slowed down to a walk beside him.
“Nope. I’m coming with you,” Mitchell replied. Castor groaned. “What about the body?” he said, turning back. “You can’t just leave it there out in the open!”
“Well I wasn’t going to just let you leave me alone in a forest not knowing where on earth you were headed to!” Mitchell huffed.
I was going to get shovels so we can bury the old man,” Castor said.
“Where on earth are you going to get shovels from?”
“I keep it on standby for when I’m working,” Castor replied dryly.
“But where?” Mitchell asked.
“In a van somewhere in this forest. I didn’t come here on foot you know, especially not when I had a dead body with me.”

“A WHAT?” Mitchell yelled. 

“A dead body. What do you think I was doing by the river? Admiring that filthy water? No! I had just finished throwing a body into a river when I noticed you. I was real concerned that you had seen me do it until I realised that there were bigger issues to be addressed,” Castor said, glancing back in the direction of the body. Mitchell stared at him, speechless. 

“You are telling me that we were both at that river with bodies?” he said.

“Yup. We both killed someone today,” Castor said. 

“Wow. What a crazy coincidence.”

“I know. And a lucky one too. Well, are you gonna let me get those shovels?” Castor asked.
“Alright, alright go ahead,” Mitchell replied. Castor ran off and after a few minutes came running back with two shovels.
“Van isn’t far from here,” he said, tossing one to Mitchell. “Let’s get to digging.” The two promptly started shovelling, when the silence was broken again.“Hey Mister?” Castor looked up.
“What is it like being a hitman? Does it ever get lonely? I mean, who are you going to eat lunch with?” Castor stared at him.
“Are you serious?”
“Dead serious. Do you just eat all your meals alone?”
“Kid, I don’t need anyone to eat with,” Castor scoffed.
“So you are a loner.”
“Choosing to eat my meals alone doesn’t make me a loner, you idiot. You saying you have someone to eat a meal with everyday?”
“Well… I used to but um…”
Mitchell looked down at the soil.
“Ah… I see,” Castor said. Mitchell pursed his lips. He looked deep in thought.
“What?” Castor asked.
“Say, Mister. You hungry?” Mitchell said.
Castor paused for a moment.
“Well, I would kill for a pizza right now,” he said. Mitchell grinned.

Summer Goh Teo (Class of 2026) is a writer who enjoys comedy and slice of life. Summer always writes stories with the hope that Summer will be able to leave something pleasant behind, be it big or small, in whoever reads them.