Published by Dwayne Albert Bearup at Smashwords

Copyright 2012 Dwayne Albert Bearup


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William had a gun, and knew how to use it. He had found it near the buggy during a trip into town in the spring, clipped into a shoulder holster and stuffed inside a nylon bag with two boxes of bullets, a coil of rope, and a hunting knife. After looking around the parking lot and seeing nobody was watching, the bag had found its way into the buggy alongside the supplies he had been sent for.

He didn’t know what kind it was, only that it was big and pleasantly heavy in his large hands, and that his ability to control its recoil made him feel powerful. Throughout the summer, he longed to shoot it every day, but forced himself to be patient. His supply of bullets was not unlimited, and he could not purchase more—in part because he had no money, but primarily because a seventeen year-old Amish boy buying bullets at Wal-Mart would raise more than a few eyebrows. By the end of summer he had begun to practice without the bullets, though there was no joy in pulling the trigger without the heady aroma of burnt gunpowder and the climactic BANG! Even the splash of blood from the wild animals he’d been killing all summer was almost second best… almost.

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