Friday, 23 November 2012

The Shots

“Have you ever used a gun before?” she asked me before smiling. She reminded me of a snake, teasing its prey.

I shook my head, my hands trembling, my aim uncertain.

“Well make sure you don’t miss me,” she hissed, her scarlet eyes blazing. “If you do I will eat your soul.”

Her voice echoed around the tunnel – I was stood in a train tunnel. As a burst of noise pierced the quiet, dingy open space, a huge train came past, the noise died away and so did the soot it left behind. I turned back to the women but she had gone. I heard a laugh and there she was, stood in front of me, she had moved over the track and was now only two tracks away.

“She shot my brother, the brother I loved.”

The pistol I had taken from the jacket left by her was in my hand by my side, the same thought was whirling round my head, I could almost hear my heart. I raised the gun, it felt like it weighed a tonne, I took aim and shot. The bullet missed. It shot around the tunnel, the sound of the shot bouncing off the walls. It seemed as if 100 people were shooting, I cowered away from the shower of soot that the noise and the gun had set off. Again she had moved her body closer. It was at this point I managed to get a proper view of her, she was short, with a pointed nose and fiery ginger hair, her eyes were still blazing. She noticed I was studying her.

“You seem intrigued,” she growled. “I wonder how long it will take you to realise that you will not have enough courage to shoot me.”

She was heavily accented; once again I got the courage to lift up my pistol, this time I did it with a purpose. I shot, I heard a thud, it had hit her, she screamed in agony, her high pitched voice carried on for a second, then suddenly stopped. I had hit only her shoulder, she came flying at me, I ran up the stairs and into the network of workers’ tunnels. One shot left, only one shot, I took a right turn, she went running past, I stepped out, she heard me, stopped and stood still, she was teasing me, I raised the gun for one, final time, she spun round, legs, shoulder width apart, staring, her eyes widened.

I didn’t follow the bullet, I shot, turned and ran. I knew it hit the mark, she was screaming, Her voice seemed to be fading as I raced back towards the bustling streets of London.


By Jacob Sidebottom