Memoirs of a sniper

Memoirs of a sniper

It was a cold and dark night. The blanket of stars that hung in the skies glittered only to be distorted by lumps of gray clouds. Only the full moon was spared from the onslaught of the clouds, casting a pale light over the city below.

Shuddering from the bone-chilling breeze of the night, a black figure stood on a pavement next to a road in a residential area. It was a man dressed in the darkest black and a briefcase lay next to him as he hugged himself in order to keep warmth. All was silent as most residents were already in ‘lalaland’ but the man was not taking any chances. Ever alert, the man glanced here and there, making sure no one was watching him as the act he was going to perform would best be participated by him, alone and no one else. Slowly after then, the man reached for the briefcase and made his way across the street, into the woods that borders humanity and the outside world.

Taking cover behind the lush vegetation, the man then proceeded his plan…

From the briefcase, the man took out what seems to be components of a PSG-1 sniper rifle and began assembling them one by one. First, he pulled out a 25.99’’ barrel and installed it onto the main part of the sniper rifle, which was made of black high impact plastic. Then, a Hendsoldt 6x42 with reticle illumination scope was fitted onto the upper top of the rifle. With a click, a magazine of 7.62-mm caliber was inserted into the rifle and locked firmly into place. Finally, with the support of a bipod, the man positioned himself behind a bush, overlooking a house with a black gate across the street in the midst of a long night to come. The time is 9.00 pm. Target…an inhabitant of the house.

The house seemed empty as there were no cars in the driveway but the lights that emanated from it showed otherwise. Perhaps the target was probably in the house, the man thought to himself as he peered through the scope, trying to get a closer look on the house. All was ready now.

The momentary peace of the residential area was disturbed as a black Honda swerved into the road before him, going at a steady pace. Engines roaring, the Honda stopped right in front of the house and out stepped a man of his early forties. The man, tall and lean, wore a look of relief as he approached the door of the house. However, before the man could even reached for the door. Creaked! The door of the house swung open and a boy not more than 5 years ran towards the man, his arms outstretched. “Papa!” The boy shouted as he buried his face in his father’s arms.

Almost instantly, the sniper had the boy’s head in his reticle for the target is… the boy itself. Target in sight. Apparently, the father of the boy had in some way, offended his employer to some extent that his employer wanted retribution of this sort. Why would a mafia lord want to kill a harmless boy? That question was not answerable for the sniper as he had his own problems to deal with.

The sniper was ready for the kill. All he needs is just to pull the trigger for the entire affair to end. Glaring at the target through the sniper scope, the sniper then…

Suddenly, in his mind, a series of images bombarded him, engulfing him in a sea of confusion. First, he saw the target… the boy was smiling at him, waving his hand at him, totally unaware of the threat. Then the target’s face shifted into that of another boy, the face shocked the sniper right down to the core, it was… his son! No, it couldn’t be… his son is right now at the mercy of his employer as assurance that he, a sniper would complete the job as ordered and there is no way his son could escape from the murderous man.

Steeling himself, the sniper bolted back into reality and was once again looking at the target through the sniper scope, still undecided whether to pull the trigger or not. A wave of guilt overwhelmed the sniper. A part of his mind was screaming at him, telling him to pull the trigger for his son’s life is at stake whereas another part of his mind is telling him not to for it is not right. Cold sweat began to flow profusely from the sniper’s brow as he still remain undecided, his hand resting on the trigger. Time seemed to freeze around him, waiting for him to make the fateful decision- his son’s life or the other’s life. The sniper couldn’t bear the thought of ending the boy’s life just when it is beginning but on the other hand, by sparing his target, that would mean jeopardising his son’s life. The sniper was torn between conscience and duty.

Time is getting short as the father and son was now making their way back to the house, he must act…NOW.

Finally, hands trembling, the sniper tore away the last vestige of his conscience and a thundering sound rang throughout the night, shattering the silence as the bullet hit home…