To Be, That is the Question
|
|
Written by Timmy Dee
|
|
Saturday, 01 December 2007 |
|
Panjshir IV
I am as God made me.
A man walks into my line of sight. You can learn much, watching people when they think they’re alone. The sniper is light in my hands, and the desert wind laps softly at my face.
I am as God made me. A stalker.
I raise the rifle to my eye. The man gets out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter, striking it into action. The warm orange glow lights his face, as he enjoys the simple pleasure. My line of sight is clear. Nothing is in my way.
I am as God made me. A sharp-eye.
He takes another long drag on the cigarette, thinking about home. It’s written on his face; the pond he used to play at with his friends, his Mother’s cooking, the first time he had sex with his girlfriend. He thinks how when it’s all over, he will go back to it all, and everything will be normal again. I aim and readjust the sniper. My hands don’t tremble.
I am as God made me. A calm.
He smokes the cigarette to the butt, and takes in the tranquility. He thinks that even though it’s a war zone, that the desert is actually a beautiful place. Just then, he smiles; he figures it all out. The World, the War, his very existence.
You can learn much, watching people when they think they’re alone.
As I reload, I ponder on his death.
I am not as God made me. I made myself. A stalker. A sharp-eye. A calm and a storm. I am me; a slayer.
Copyright 2007 Timmy Dee
{moscomment} |
|
Last Updated ( Sunday, 04 May 2008 )
|
via Email
