A U.S.A. Sniper's Tale

A tale of the life of a sniper

As I sit here anxiously waiting, it seems as if I’ve been sitting in this exact same position for hours amongst hours. But my vast training has taught me with mind the body has power.

I sit here in the brush as if I’ve been painted into the jungle’s scenery. My body aches from a itch I dare not scratch because the enemy is near and if I’m to be spotted I will most definitely be terminated.

Like a volcanic eruption, my adrenaline rushes as I look down my scope’s sights and see a few 100 yards distance between me and the enemy. With my finger on the trigger, my heart begins to pound, as time whines down, I know it about to be an epic showdown.

I concentrate on the enemy, blocking out all other imagery of the jungle, its vegetation, and other sights and sounds.

I use the back my thumb to wipe away the bead of sweat that trickles down to my right eye as I look down my scope’s sights and see the white within the enemy’s eyes.
Yet I keep my composure for the big ambush.

Suddenly, there's a sonic boom as I give my trigger a good squeeze, hitting my mark with deadly precision and precise ease. As I watch the enemy’s head whip back and fall to the ground total chaos begins.

The enemies scurry and begin to shoot at us through the jungle, sawing through its vegetation like a saw mill with each round they fire. At this point they have us pinned, and I think to myself is this really the end.

As I see my brothers get shot, blown to bits, and swallowed back into the jungle, I shatter my mental break and gain a sense of hunger for vengeance.

I reload my weapon and proceed to fire, hitting enemy upon enemy, bullets piercing their fronts and exiting their backs, planting a perfect garden of death. I continue to fire, giving protective cover for my band of brothers like a guardian angel from above.

The smell of gun smoke lingers through the air as the sound of thunder roars from bullets and grenades, despite this situation it sounds like a independence day parade.

Then without any warning, a sense of calm takes place in the jungle and all the sounds of ricocheting bullets take cease within the air.

"No man left alone" is what I shout to my brothers as we gather our dead and injured to take back home.

As the cloud of the gun smoke disappears within the brush, we start to see the remnants of the enemy’s shadows headed to the hills.

Headed to the hill they may, to lick their wounds to fight another day, but today is our day, and I’m proud to say, that I will live, fight, and die for my country. For I am a sniper for the U.S. OF A.

Reviews

[Clayton Bardwell]

A story with rhyme and flow.

"planting a perfect garden of death". Nice imagery.

[kelvin]

Thank oh so much this was my first attempt at writing something such as this

[Clayton Bardwell]

I going to guess and say that you are following you're "putting myself in someone else shoes writing from their prospective." statement on the about me page.

I'm still working on writing what I know.

[kelvin]

Well both i write from my experiences and from someone else experience I've seen in prospective the reader just don't know whats my experience or someone else experience

[Marie]

I'm not into war stories, but this seems to be a pretty good one. Congratulations Kelvin.

[kelvin]

Thank you so kindly Miss Marie this is my first and only writing of this type