I'm so bored atm - so hears a dance
The shock of the gun went up through his arm - vibrating bone, shaking muscle and twanging tendons. He tried to stop his hand from moving and even though he knew that it was going to happen, the recoil still forced the weapon up and to the left. The explosion of the bullet was parsing to his ears; he could not so much hear the explosion as feel the air pushing his ear drums in. It left a slight ringing, the sound of the cells in his ears dyeing, a frequency that would become less and less audible the more times he shot this weapon of his until he could not hear it any more - the swan song of his ears.
This he did not like - the feeling of shooting the gun, the sound of the bullet exploding from the barrel, the involuntary movement caused by the recoil. This reminded him of the purpose of the weapon, to cause harm, to kill even; this was a thought that he didn’t like to think. Why he shot this weapon was because of what happened next. Just as the bullet was leaving the barrel the whole of time slowed down, the movement of the bullet almost as if it where frozen. This was why he shot the gun; he got to see what normal people where too slow to see for themselves, too half-witted to understand if he told them how. This set him apart, made him different, he had a skill now that no one else had.
The bullet slowly moved out of the barrel and towards the target. The gun was riffled, he could tell because the bullet was spinning. He was watching the movement of it, captivated by the constant rotation of the red hot lead, forming itself into a new shape as it was compressed by the sudden acceleration. He saw the dust particles that where in the bullets path, illuminated by the low sun streaming in through the window to the left and across the makeshift range that he had made in his yard. The bullet approached the dust with the precision - it didn’t have enough time now to escape the fury that the bullet would cause, it, like him, was trapped in an uncontrollable destiny now. The bullet reached its intended target slowly, ripping though the air; the dust was going to be forced over the bullet by the disturbance that was going to consume its life shortly. The air current hit the spec and it slowly started to move upwards, struggling to get out of the way of the oncoming death warrant, but inevitably succeeding to do so. It rushed over the bullet missing it by a distance so small that it didn’t have a measurement, its life now transformed as it went flying to a new spot, destined now to land in a new place.
He felt his control lagging and time speeding up again, this new found technique of his took a lot of energy to keep going and he could only hold it for a shot period of time. His concentration lapsed and the bullet sped up until he could not longer tell weather he had control or not. It ripped through the target - a bulls-eye, right where he had aimed it. His shot was improving even if the amount of time he could stay in control wasn’t. He hard the squeak of the door from behind him, rusty old hinges that needed replacing, it was his pa most probably, come to tell him that food was going cold. He lay the gun down on the small wooden box that he used as a makeshift table slowly clicking the safely catch on as he put it down.
“You been in hear all day?” A voice from behind called. The rustic sound of his dad’s voice always cheered him up, it told a story of it’s own about his life and all of his achievements - the bass, he thought, was enough to bring the whole house down if he wanted it to.
“Yep, I was practicing my aim pa. I wana shoot better than you.” In comparison his voice was that of inexperience. The shrill tone said that he was young, not yet fully grown into his voice, his appearance however told a different story. He was tall with bold hair and dark eyes that had earned him the nickname from the local church of ‘beast’, if only they knew how right they where.
“Well, you’re teas going cold, you can carry on your practice tomorrow. It won’t be any good tho’, you’ll never be as good as me, Seb” Pa turned to leave leaving the door open behind him an indication that Seb should follow.
“I’ll just clean up hear pa” He said, half expecting that his dad wouldn’t hear him.
“Don’t be too long,” a reply called back at him “you know how your mother is when you’re late for tea.”
As Seb left the practice range he saw the sun was setting, casting an eerie light on the young of maize which lined the path and extended across all of their fields. He liked it when the sun was going down, he always thought that the light was clearer and he was more able to see the detail in things.
This he did not like - the feeling of shooting the gun, the sound of the bullet exploding from the barrel, the involuntary movement caused by the recoil. This reminded him of the purpose of the weapon, to cause harm, to kill even; this was a thought that he didn’t like to think. Why he shot this weapon was because of what happened next. Just as the bullet was leaving the barrel the whole of time slowed down, the movement of the bullet almost as if it where frozen. This was why he shot the gun; he got to see what normal people where too slow to see for themselves, too half-witted to understand if he told them how. This set him apart, made him different, he had a skill now that no one else had.
The bullet slowly moved out of the barrel and towards the target. The gun was riffled, he could tell because the bullet was spinning. He was watching the movement of it, captivated by the constant rotation of the red hot lead, forming itself into a new shape as it was compressed by the sudden acceleration. He saw the dust particles that where in the bullets path, illuminated by the low sun streaming in through the window to the left and across the makeshift range that he had made in his yard. The bullet approached the dust with the precision - it didn’t have enough time now to escape the fury that the bullet would cause, it, like him, was trapped in an uncontrollable destiny now. The bullet reached its intended target slowly, ripping though the air; the dust was going to be forced over the bullet by the disturbance that was going to consume its life shortly. The air current hit the spec and it slowly started to move upwards, struggling to get out of the way of the oncoming death warrant, but inevitably succeeding to do so. It rushed over the bullet missing it by a distance so small that it didn’t have a measurement, its life now transformed as it went flying to a new spot, destined now to land in a new place.
He felt his control lagging and time speeding up again, this new found technique of his took a lot of energy to keep going and he could only hold it for a shot period of time. His concentration lapsed and the bullet sped up until he could not longer tell weather he had control or not. It ripped through the target - a bulls-eye, right where he had aimed it. His shot was improving even if the amount of time he could stay in control wasn’t. He hard the squeak of the door from behind him, rusty old hinges that needed replacing, it was his pa most probably, come to tell him that food was going cold. He lay the gun down on the small wooden box that he used as a makeshift table slowly clicking the safely catch on as he put it down.
“You been in hear all day?” A voice from behind called. The rustic sound of his dad’s voice always cheered him up, it told a story of it’s own about his life and all of his achievements - the bass, he thought, was enough to bring the whole house down if he wanted it to.
“Yep, I was practicing my aim pa. I wana shoot better than you.” In comparison his voice was that of inexperience. The shrill tone said that he was young, not yet fully grown into his voice, his appearance however told a different story. He was tall with bold hair and dark eyes that had earned him the nickname from the local church of ‘beast’, if only they knew how right they where.
“Well, you’re teas going cold, you can carry on your practice tomorrow. It won’t be any good tho’, you’ll never be as good as me, Seb” Pa turned to leave leaving the door open behind him an indication that Seb should follow.
“I’ll just clean up hear pa” He said, half expecting that his dad wouldn’t hear him.
“Don’t be too long,” a reply called back at him “you know how your mother is when you’re late for tea.”
As Seb left the practice range he saw the sun was setting, casting an eerie light on the young of maize which lined the path and extended across all of their fields. He liked it when the sun was going down, he always thought that the light was clearer and he was more able to see the detail in things.