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My experience in hunting
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"Ok, now let's see what you can do with this pistol alright" I gave her five shells to load and told her, "always leave the hammer on an empty chamber for your safety" I stood behind her and watched as she took aim not expecting her to hit any of the targets. Boy was I wrong, with every shot a target flew through the air with a hole dead center. After she unloaded the pistol she motioned for me to give her more ammo. I gave her five more shells, she loaded the gun, aimed and fired with the same results. After this round was over I motioned for her to sit down a minute. Brenda was smiling and said, "how did I do" "You were great and where did you learn to shoot that way" I use to target pratice, remember I told you that" "yes I remember, but did not expect you to be so good" "Big things come in small packages she laughed. I laughed with her and said, "let's see how you do with a rifle now" I walked out about two-hundred feet and set up four targets for her and said, "all your's" Brenda steadied herself and aimed, missed the first one, raised the rifle again, and took a shot. The target went flying through the air flipping over and over. "Not bad, now and let's see if you can keep it going" I told her. She hit the other two and raised the rifle again, and I stopped her and said, "what are you shooting at" "The one I missed of course" The other target she hit knocked the down she missed so I let her have her way. She cocked the rifle, brought it up to aim and fired. Sure enough that target went down. "You are amazing and is there anything else I do not know about you smiling" "Oh there is a lot but that would take the mystery of of it wouldn't it", grinning. "I suppose and we have plenty of time to find out those things my dear" As we walked back to the cabin we held hands like two lovers that were sneaking around behind their parents back. The rest of the day we just sat on the porch and made small talk with one another. Every-now-and-then she would look at me and smile. Brenda started humming a little tune and I watched her rocking back and forth keeping time to it.
I was sitting in the old rickety chair that looked as if it had been there for five years. The smell of gunpowder hung in the morning air as I leaned over the rifle rest. My finger wrapped around the trigger as my eye focused through the scope of my grandfather’s Springfield ’03. I took a deep breath and let half out. My finger tightened on the trigger as I awaited the recoil and crack of the gunpowder igniting. Finally, when my finger’s pull was enough to move the trigger, the gun went off. Moments like this are why I love shooting guns.
He uses the weapon unsupervised, and takes no immediate safety precautions. He shoots the gun with eyes closed, and single-handedly after “wav[ing] it wildly for a moment” in the direction of a field mule named Jenny (p 9). The weapon’s recoil is too much for him to handle, as Dave almost shoots his arm off, and hurts his fingers. Following his injuries, he places his hand in his mouth (like a child sucking their thumb) and throws a tantrum. In response, Dave “gritted his teeth and kicked the gun. Yuh almos broke mah arm!” (p 9). He blames the gun instead of himself. Dave eventually comes to the realization that he has mistakenly killed Jenny. In an effort to hide his crime, Saunders attempts to plug the bullet hole with dirt, instead of getting aid. He then proceeds to lie about Jenny’s death, claiming that she hurt herself while plowing and eventually died. Dave refuses to acknowledge his mistakes and tell the truth. Instead, he continuously lies about Jenny’s death until his mother directly asks him, “Dave, whut yuh do wid the gun” (p 9). He ultimately confesses, is humiliated, and is asked to return the gun and work off the cost of the mule. Rather than acknowledge his mistakes, Dave heads into the forest once more and fires the gun off repeatedly; he eventually chooses to keep it for himself. He proceeds to calculate how long it will take him to pay the cost of Jenny and chooses to escapes his punishment
Sitting on a rooftop was a sniper who was calmly excited, waiting for his enemy to make a move. He risks lighting a cigarette and that blows his cover when a bullet hits the small wall that’s protecting him. When a woman shows herself telling the enemy where the sniper lay, those were the last words she would ever speak. “The woman darted toward the side
Impulsively, Dave buys a gun thinking that it will make him a man because he believes the qualities of a man come with the gun itself. He has no interest in what his mom has to say about that subject; Dave disregards her opinion and her wishes. Instead, he manipulates her to give him the money to buy the gun. He makes her believe that he was going to buy the gun for his father, but had every intention to keep the gun for himself. He then proceeded to buy the gun despite the fact that he does not know how to shoot one, nor has he even handled a gun before. Upon waking up the next morning, Dave ties the gun to his thigh and runs off to work to avoid any confrontation with his mother. After plowing two rows, Dave decides to pull the gun out and shoots it, accidentally hitting Jenny, the mule,
THE PAST :.. In days gone by, the four species managed to live in perfect harmony. Witches, werewolves and vampires lived in secret, blending in with the humans on a daily basis - and the humans remained completely in the dark about their existence. It was after thousands of years of living this way, whilst everything was completely normal, that a small group of vampires decided that they’d had enough. They spent months devising plans.
One day while dusting the funiture, Annie decided to take down her father's gun and clean it. A few days later, she saw a squirrel running in the field. Excitedly, she took down the gun and loaded it. She hastily aimed and fired. To her suprise, the squirrel was cleanly shot though the head, even though she was only 8 years old! Annie's mom liked having the meat for dinner, but the family's Quaker religion opposed violence. Annie had to promise never to use the gun on someone.
What is that supposed to mean?” I asked bewildered “It means you did as I thought you would.” “What would that be?” I questioned “You killed your parents, oh and by the way I guess I should show you something real quick.” The cloud of dust then reappeared, showing the little girl holding the gun and shooting both of her parents while they slept; and then her shooting herself with a look of satisfaction upon her face. “You're an evil little brat! You made me kill my parents!” I screamed with tears streaming down my face “I didn’t make you do anything, if I remember correctly; you pulled the trigger not I.” In all my days I have never seen a more menacing look on some ones face. I then looked at the gun and put it to my forehead and breathed an apology to my parents before pulling the trigger.
I was counting to myself 1, 2, 3, Boom!! The shot went off and I was so happy. I looked out my window and it was still standing there. My dad in the back looking in the bag like he had lost something, he was looking for another bullet. He gave it to me and said put this in the gun and aim again. I thought to myself I missed, what if it’s going to run away. As I put the bullet in the gun and looked through the scope it was still standing there, it seemed to have not known where the shot had come
“Men, for many of you, today is your first day training as a Knight of Camelot,” said Prince Arthur to the group standing before him. “And be grateful you’re not stuck in a torrential downpour as I was on my first day of training here on this very field. The sun is shining and I plan to work you hard.”
shoots her, “The Misfit sprang back as if a snake had bitten him and shot her three times through
Once again I peek to the side of the wall and prepare to take my first shot. I spot someone from the other team. I aim very carefully... And at that point I thought I had it nailed down, that I would shoot and it would hit whoever that person was and I would finally find out the answer to the question that was banging inside my head from the moment the game begun. How much does this hurt? I shot, "PUFT". "Damn it, I missed..." It was pretty clear I needed more practice, so I aimed once again and "PUFT". Missed again. When was one little paintball going to hit someone? I urged to know how much it
A thick plume of black smoke and ash hung in the air in a heavy haze, almost completely obscuring the lurid red glow of the waning sun. Below, a cloud of grey plaster dust twisted and writhed amid the sea of debris as intermittent eddies of wind gusted by.
she always used to wish for a way to escape her life. She saw memories
For my first piece of original writing I intend to create a piece primarily written for entertainment however, I also want to portray an interest into historical and political persuasions. I aim to write this piece for an audience of teenagers to young adult who are aged from around fifteen to twenty-five and are male, I also wish to identify with those interested in political thrillers within this age range. The genre of which shall be a short fiction story consisting chiefly of narrative and written in the third person. I picture this piece as being one of a collection of short stories concerned with the political-thriller fiction sub-genre. Despite being a fiction text I aim to tie in real world non-fiction.
Romantic period is an age when writers focus on the power of human mind and seek for the promotion of individual’s sensibility in understanding the world and even creating its own through imagination. However, Romantic writing is not always aimed at the development of individuals. Actually, literary works in this period have a close relationship with social conditions—seeking to promote the development of society is a crucial purpose in Romantic writing. In the following passage, I would like to discuss two famous Romantic authors, William Blake and Washington Irving, and how their works contribute to the development of society.