The Dedicated Soldier
by Deb Parrish
He was crouched down behind a bush. It was warm and the air had a faint breeze. He could see them as they were supposingly hiding. His cats could hide better than that. From his hiding place, he could see all three of them. However, they were not easy targets where they were hiding. He checked his guns. He liked to check and recheck his guns. He knows when something wasn't right. He didn't know how he knew, but he just had a second sense for his guns. His pistol was sleek and smooth. He loved the pistol most of all. It had such a personal feel to it. He checked his rifle. His rifle was his faithful friend. He slept with it near always. Not out of fear but out of the peace that it brought to him.
"Where is he?" Target number #3 said.
"He's behind some bushes over there, but we can wait him out." The leader said.
"Let's just run up there and get it over." Target #2 said, as he stood up.
"Get down!" said the leader. "Do you want to be target practice for him?"
"He ain't that good; I bet he can't hit a thing." Said target #3.
"Yes, he is that good and yes he can hit what he wants to. There is a reason that he is waiting.
We got to wait him out." The Leader said.
You are so right he thought to himself. He loved to hear praises from his enemies. It was always truthful and so much better than praises from his friends. Friends don't always tell the truth. He knew that he could get one maybe two, but for some reason today he wanted all three. For no other reason that to end it here and now. He thought about his mother. She was always telling him "guns" are bad.
"A man, specially a black man should never shoot a gun unless he's in the Army." She just did not understand. He was born with the love of guns. Guns helped him to keep the "bad" guys away. What were they doing? Good, they were going to circle him. Perfect. This made it much easier for him. He could go down the line, Target #3, Target #2, and the Leader. He could be finish by dinnertime.
"Quiet and keep low." The Leader called.
No, just keep talking. Target #3 was in perfect range. He raised his rifle and just as he prepared to pull the trigger and shoot.
David! David! Time to come in for dinner!" His mother called.
"Time-out." He called to them. He walked back to the house with his rifle on his shoulder.
There will be another time.
"See ya David," They all called.
"See you guys later," he replied. Yes, there will be always be another time.
He thought to himself as he walked in for dinner. "I hope that we are having spaghetti. And maybe, I'll join the Army someday."