I feel the weight of the gun in my hands,

It is heavy and cold,

I make sure that the bolt in the barrel is not frozen.

I wait.

I hear crows cawing in the distance,

I shift the weight of my body in my elbows,

I settle on the sandbags,

As I grow more comfortable.

The cold as only started to set in the past five days.

I wait.

The sun is rising again,

The morning dew almost instantly freezes to parts of the exposed metal.

I peer through the scope and view the road below.

A shepherd had been taking care of his animals,

He wore a turban and a robe that cover most of his head.

The same shepherd is herding his sheep across the road,

The sheep eat the frozen grass as if it were a rare delicacy.

I wait.

 

 

 

 

I eat the other half of the meal bar from last night.

I do most deep breathing to wake myself.

I drink some water,

I dare not move too much as I fear that I may disturb my covering too much.

The clouds are overcast,

It may start raining soon.

I will still wait.

Five days from cool sunny days to  cold dark nights,

The road below is used by villagers in the day and,

Is rarely used at night.

I was told that my target was coming at night,

Coming on six days ago.

I still have not seen him.

I wait for him to come within sight of my scope.

I secured my hilltop,

With trip wires and silent alarms,

To tell me if someone else is here.

There has been no activity on my hill for six days.

I wait.

I look through my scope in the mid morning,

The mountain’s vale shows the pasture down below,

The shepherd is taking his flock back to another pasture farther down the hill,

A pair of women carrying baskets containing breads stop and wait for the sheep to cross,

A small group of children play near the women,

Children that play without a care in the world.

A man is carrying a large fish from out of the near by forest.

The town on the other side of the forest begins to erupts with noise,

The morning has awaken the town.

I wait.

The town carries its noise,

The noise reverberates off of the mountains sides.

The noise carries in the cold air,

The noise seems to warm the air around,

As if the coming of winter was the beginning of a new year.

A guilty pleasure of comradery that I would so like to join,

I must not be tempted to leave my perch for even a moment.

I wait.

As the afternoon comes to a close, the town becomes quiet,

The tavern’s bar music plays slow music,

As if it was trying to encourage its patrons to leave.

The birds that were all around earlier have become silent,

The dusk moves in,

A car engine is heard coming from the town.

This is the first car that I have seen in this area.

I check the description of the man that I am suppose to shoot,

A tall, white man with black hair and scar across his forehead driving a gray car.

I look through my scope back at the grassy intersection.

The shepherd was taking his flock back across the road looking for more food,

The car stops right before it hits ewe.

The driver exits his car and shout a vulgarity at the shepherd.

I look through my scope.

I line up on the driver,

A brown man with blonde hair.

He was telling the shepherd to hurry up.

The shepherd walked up to the driver and began to talk to him.

The shepherd took off his covering,

I saw for the first time that he was a white man,

He had black hair,

And a scar that covered his forehead.

In that instant the world around me stopped.

I checked the bolt once again,

Just to make sure that it was not froze.

I took a breath,

I sighted down my scope,

The silence of the hills was broken as the rain started to fall.