Through the sight, the village looks gentle, a toy town cradled in the lap of mountains. Children scatter like marbles across cobblestones, mothers barter for bread, a man in a blue coat laughs too loudly.
I adjust the dial.
The timber-framed inn becomes my cathedral, its windows lit with midday hush. Wind sings against the barrel, steadying breath becomes prayer.
He steps into view, the target shaped by sun and shadow, just another part of the scenery until he’s not.
My finger waits, half a thought from forever. I see them all, living their lives, never knowing how close death leans or how the world narrows to a heartbeat and a crosshair.
I breathe in and hold it.
I pull the trigger.
He falls.
Mission accomplished.
Written for Christine Bialczak’s Simply 6 Minutes Challenge.
A note from the author: when I saw this image I imagined a sniper’s eye view and what goes through his mind as he looks through the scope of his rifle searching for and finally pinpointing his target.
“Omigod, Hank. You couldn’t hit the floor if you fell out of bed,” Jimmy said, trying to control his laughter.
Facts, Fictions & Fantasies 