Chapter 2: A trip back in time
“Steady hand son, deep breath.” The barrel of the rifle swayed in rhythm with the heavy breathing of young Tom Burns. His father took another swig from his whiskey, as he inspected the grip his young son had taken upon the weapon. Phillip Burns was a reckless man, torn apart from his own actions. A sudden rustling of leaves shakes Tom as he retires the grip on the rifle and wipes his forehead. “What the fuck are you doing you idiot?!” Phillip threw down his almost empty bottle of whiskey and struggled to get the rifle from Tom’s loose sweaty grip. “Piss of son, your fucking useless!” Phillip pulled the gun to his shoulders and pointed the barrel towards the sound. A loud piercing bang sent birds scattering from the thick bushland ahead as Phillip remained in his statue like setting. His eye slowly began to move from the ring of the scope and his vision darted towards the shrub on which he directed his fire towards. “Go on! What the fuck are you waiting for? Go see if I got it Tom.” A smirk rose from Phillips face as Tom slowly started towards the bush. Phillip loved the drink, it was known and when he drank he was a very dangerous man, a contraption of anger and regret drove this man to violence. Tom spotted a trail of blood on the ground; it was a good sign because that meant the pair would be eating tonight. He glanced back at his drunk father who was laughing heavily as he had the rifle aimed straight down towards Tom. “Hey son be quite I got something here!” A drunken staggered laugh followed the words and another echoing shot followed.
© Copyright 2016 Gerry Fedele. All rights reserved.
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