Saturday, May 16, 2015

[Fiction] - Shooter

Yet another piece from my FutureLearn class. For this assignment we were to write something between 200 and 350 words and to focus on the character in the events you describe. I had nothing when I started and then I just dumped this onto the keyboard. Nothing special really but I was happy with how 350+ words just exploded out the gate once I had typed the first two sentences.

One note, all these are posted as-is. No editing or revision has taken place. There are likely spelling errors (I am a notoriously bad speller), grammar errors, and other writing sort of mistakes. These are meant to be quick, prompt driven gushes of writing and not meant to be completed works.

Shooter 
I opened my eyes. Blinked a few times, trying to clear my vision.
Anyone that has stared through a scope mounted upon a high-powered sniper rifle, admittedly a small portion of our population, will tell you it plays tricks with your eyes. You see things, you miss things, and you will even begin to "zone out" as some would say.
Today was no different than any other day. Today I found myself atop one of the many tall buildings that marked the glass and steel skyline of Chicago. I was wedged into a two foot wide gap in the air conditioning machinery that perched on the roof of the Mincler Building with the business end of the rifle expertly hidden among the pipes. Any person, even those with excellent vision, looking my way would simple see a shadowed area in the machinery and a bundle of pipes. 
I blinked again, willing my eyes to refocus. Long observations like this one were not my favorite. I preferred the much more efficient and quick methods that a up close and personal hit allowed. I see the target, I take them out. Done. Go get a bite to eat. These long stake out hits were a pain. 
I had been on the roof since three a.m. having come up to the roof to get situated so as to reduce the possibility that a person might see me moving about on the rooftop. I situated myself and had laid here frozen in place for neigh on eight hours now. My legs ached for my usual morning jog so I began the game of tightening my muscles for thirty seconds then relaxing them for a similar amount of time. Not perfect, but it helps.
Movement in the aperture of the scope caught my eye. The window blind raised in Malcolm's office and I could see his starched white shirt. He wore a pale reddish tie today, I could see it had paisley swirls of a darker shade of red that danced across the material.
I pulled the trigger.

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