The Sniper (Sequel)

[celinerific]

I was bored and decided to write this... Please give some feedback.

For those who don't know what a sniper is... A sniper is a person who has extremely good aim with guns and they practically never ever miss their shot. This short story is actually a sequel to another story. So enjoy and please leave comments.

 

 

 

The Sniper (Sequel)

By: Erika Tran

 

The sniper turned over the dead boy and looked into his brother’s face. Quickly, he jerked his hand away and looked intensely at the face of his brother with unblinking eyes. His heart raced, his head throbbed, and his body trembled with fear. Slowly, he struggled to sit up straight. He closed his eyes and listened to the faint roaring of weaponry in the distance. Vivid images of his perfect shot crashed through his head over and over again. He raised his good arm and wiped the drops of sweat that were trickling down his face. As his hand made its way back down his face, he slowly opened his closed eyes, and once again, stared down blankly at the corpse.

 

The sniper sat there on the hard soil paralyzed with pain, guilt, and devastation for what seemed like forever. He wanted so much to cry, to yell, but he knew he couldn’t. What could he do? He couldn’t sit there and wait for the corpse to go away. He had to do something with it. - something good, something respectful. He could bury it. He thought for awhile about how he would go about doing this. Finally, he mapped out a plan in his head. He would carry the body to a quiet and peaceful place, a place where all was calm and undisturbed. He thought of the meadow by the lake and its serenity and perfection. He thought of his arm. He looked down at his blood-drenched arm and tried to move it. A sharp pain stabbed his arm like a thousand knives. Cringing at the pain, his eyes misted. How could he carry this body if he could barely lift his own arm up?

 

The sniper looked around and saw several stone buildings to the far right, a large wooden shed to the left, and the rest was open grasslands with trees scattered about. The more he looked, the more impossible this task was beginning to seem. He wiped his damp eyes, stood up, and stared at his brother’s lifeless body lying on the ground. The eyes were closed, but he still looked so pained, as if he could still feel the bullet, as if he were still alive. The sniper’s heart jumped at the thought of the body coming back to life. He dwelled on it for several minutes, but eventually convinced himself it was nonsense. Though, to be sure, he crouched down and placed two fingers on his brother’s wrist and held it there for awhile to check for a pulse. There was none. He let out a sigh of relief and looked around again to see it anyone was around. Disappointed that he found no one, he took a deep breath and began to slide his hands under the body. His arm ached, but he resisted it. He squeezed his eyes shut tight, trying to fight against the pain. It started to bleed again, yet he continued to lift up the body. The lake was not far from where the sniper was standing. He’d have to walk about a kilometer to get there. He looked at his arm, feeling the pain, and decided not to care. He took one step and clenched his teeth. He began to breathe in and out to calm himself. Slowly, he found a pace. It was slow, but he knew he was determined to reach the lake. His arm continued to bleed as he walked, but he paid no attention to it. As he walked with his brother in his arms, he started to think of all their childhood moments, and his vision began to blur. A tear rolled down the side of his face.

 

It was early during the afternoon when he began his walk to the lake. By sunset, he had barely gotten halfway. His arm bled so much that while he walked, he left behind a clear trail of blood. He didn’t care. He grew weaker with every stride, but knew he could not stop. By midnight, the sniper could see the lake not far away. He decided it was time to stop for a well-deserved break. The lake seemed so calm, so peaceful, and so perfect. He looked back the way he had come and saw a thin trail of blood that followed him. He turned his attention back to the lake with tired eyes, and a smile slowly formed across his face. He took a deep breath. The air was crisp and smelled of pure freshness. He glanced down at his brother once more, perhaps even for the last time. He looked up again, tilted his head back and looked at the dark sky that loomed above like a beautiful, heavenly embrace. The sniper’s breathing began to slow down. He was calm, nothing could go wrong anymore. He carefully lay his brother down on the ground and sat down next to him. His arms were so exhausted that he could no longer feel his muscles functioning. The bleeding in his injured arm had slowly begun to slow down as well. Everything was going to fine. Everything was going to be perfect. He lay down and stargazed while his eyelids challenged him to stay awake. He did not want to sleep. This place was too beautiful. He imagined being able to talk to someone about how beautiful this place was. He imagined talking to his brother. His vision began to blur again, but not because he wanted to cry, but because life was leaving him. He felt no urgency to live. He had no one to live for. His only sibling had passed away and his parents had not spoken to him for years. His breathing slowed once more. After a long struggle to stay awake, he finally surrendered to the heaviness of his eyelids. He closed them and took his final breath as life simply faded away.

 

 

The End

Edited October 1, 2007 at 02:38 AM by celinerific