Today, all I want is a loaded rifle. The feel of the wooden stock in my hands, the cool metallic smoothness of the darkened barrel glistening in the light from my cell phone as I slowly insert the gleaming brass shells into the receiver. I fill the magazine, although if all goes well only one will be needed.
Slowly, I cock the lever, chambering a round into its lethal position, ready to be sent on its deadly journey the prey. This is ever the way, the hunter and the hunted, the predator and the prey.
In the mirror I catch a fleeting glimpse of the target, wide eyed in the gloom. I can smell his fear, and I wonder if my desperation is also evident. The barrel is lifted, the muzzle jamming quickly to the throat while anxious fingers squeeze the trigger.
The predator falls, as does the prey, for they are one and the same. But no matter, for at last there is
silence
May 16, 2013
CPH
Learning to Run 