The job of a trained sniper is never easy...
|Prompt: Write a story that takes place on a roof.|
Entry for 06/02/06
My mission is simple – to take down the rebel leaders. From my vantage point on this rooftop, the village looks idyllic and peaceful.
The heat is becoming unbearable. And the worry, a dull throbbing itch, begins at the base of my spine. I grit my teeth and try my hardest to focus on the scene before me. It's ten minutes past the supposed exits of the rebels, so where are they? I know my time is running out, and any option of moving closer to the village will prove to be my downfall. I think of placing a call to my commander, but remember his instructions to only call him if the mission is complete.
Finally, the first signs of movement. I sit up and aim the sniper rifle, my heart beginning its familiar dance of excitement and anticipation. I watch through narrowed eyes as my target moves into sight. I begin to squeeze the trigger, beads of sweat on my brow, threatening to blind me if I don't move fast.
"Son-of-a-bitch," I mutter in disgust.
There's a child in the way. He's actually using a child to protect himself!
My fingers threaten to slip from the trigger and I shake my head rapidly. I can see the innocent boy's visage – the smile on his face as he looks up to his 'idol'.
Just a little bit more, I beg inwardly. Turn your head, son. Just a little bit more.
It's over, just as quickly as it had begun. I do not take the time to admire the splatter of blood that cascades down the child's stricken face. My work is done here, and I must give my report to my commander. Perhaps I'll even take the time to admire the view. It is, after all, a truly beautiful sunset.
Word Count: 300