The Weight of Lines

The smoking chamber of a bolt-action rifle as it ejected a spent brass case, one of too many to count filled the air, as a man in low ranked military uniform ensured another round was seated before aiming down the weapon in his hand and squeezing the trigger again.

Squeezing wasn't quite the right word, panic, adrenaline, and excitement flooded the blood stream as bullets whipped past his body and shredded the men behind him, the sanguine liquid of life now ripped from its grace and future poured out on the dirt beneath their freshly rotting corpse something barely worth mentioning.