War Zone
It is dark and dank in this place. And scary. The smell of pigeon shit and fusty soil are stuck in my nasal passages as I crouch, a loaded AK47 grasped so tightly in my right hand it makes an IMPRESSION. Heavy mud caked on my overalls weighs me down as I inch along toward safety. Flashes of gunfire light up the night sky behind me, followed abruptly by the cacophony of automatic weapons discharging. In that brief instant of light I can see I’m on the right path. My heart beats rapidly, fear makes my breathing hard. I hear a whisper. “Susan. Keep coming this way. Keep down.” Thank God, it’s Kevin. Kevin, my fearless and athletic lover, leads me through a maze of crumbling buildings away from our enemies. I stay at his heels as we slither through oozing mud, bird crap, and who knows what else, to a nearby two-story house, our reconnaissance point.
I send a silent pray of thankfulness to the heavens when we reach the interior unscathed. A wave of light from another burst of gunfire exposes the strained and pale faces of Patty and Dave, our team reunited. A plan evolves for two of us to sniper from the second floor vantage, the other two on the ground floor defense. I volunteer for the second floor action. So does Kevin. We wipe more mud on our faces for camouflage and ascend. Standing in complete stillness at the windows we watch for incoming movement. And it comes. Nearer and nearer. We’re not disclosing our advantage. We wait until they’re close enough to take out as many as possible. My heart, racing so hard as a new level of fear builds and builds until I can barely swallow. The enemy gets closer and closer, every forward movement one step closer to oblivion. Keep on coming baby. I’ve got them in my sights. Just a little more. Come on. Gunfire. Not from us. They’re wasting their ammo and losing any element of surprise. Hah.
I look at Kevin. He flashes me a grin, teeth white in their gun light, and gives me a nod. Okay. Here we go. I lock in on my scope. Depress my finger tight against the trigger to a resounding blast. One down. And another. There goes another. I see movement far too close. Oh damn, I FELT impact on my hand. My middle finger, stung and dripping.
Orange paintball.
This Is A Theme Thursday Post. Click this link to check out what others have written on the subject of felt and impression.
I send a silent pray of thankfulness to the heavens when we reach the interior unscathed. A wave of light from another burst of gunfire exposes the strained and pale faces of Patty and Dave, our team reunited. A plan evolves for two of us to sniper from the second floor vantage, the other two on the ground floor defense. I volunteer for the second floor action. So does Kevin. We wipe more mud on our faces for camouflage and ascend. Standing in complete stillness at the windows we watch for incoming movement. And it comes. Nearer and nearer. We’re not disclosing our advantage. We wait until they’re close enough to take out as many as possible. My heart, racing so hard as a new level of fear builds and builds until I can barely swallow. The enemy gets closer and closer, every forward movement one step closer to oblivion. Keep on coming baby. I’ve got them in my sights. Just a little more. Come on. Gunfire. Not from us. They’re wasting their ammo and losing any element of surprise. Hah.
I look at Kevin. He flashes me a grin, teeth white in their gun light, and gives me a nod. Okay. Here we go. I lock in on my scope. Depress my finger tight against the trigger to a resounding blast. One down. And another. There goes another. I see movement far too close. Oh damn, I FELT impact on my hand. My middle finger, stung and dripping.
Orange paintball.
This Is A Theme Thursday Post. Click this link to check out what others have written on the subject of felt and impression.
Comments
not much fun.
this gave me the wrong impression for a while...
good one