“The sniper turned over the body and looked into his brothers face” he started trembling and fell to his knees, on the red blood stained tarmac. He hugged his brother, then he started having flashbacks of the great times he and his brother had had. In the end this civil war had divided husband and wife, brothers and families. As another tear ran down his face he thought about the war some more and why, why would the country fight each other? Why being the most important question, why this? Why that? Why the hell did I shoot my own brother? Another sacrificial death for a country at war. The sniper laid there hugging his dead brother’s corpse, thinking what would he tell his parents?
In the end the sniper decided to dump the body down a manhole, so there would be no trace. But he also had decided to make some meaning out of his brother’s short tragic life, he had a plan, a plan to end all the madness that had come of this civil war.
First he went to see his parents, a brave decision, but he could not bear to deceive the people that he loved; he hoped they would find forgiveness. The sniper stumbled along the streets clenching his wounded arm, until reaching Carlton Road, memories of lost childhood innocence flooding his mind, his body being racked with grief he stumbled on to number 52. He knocked at the door, then again, and again until eventually someone answered,
it was his mum, she saw the blood stained arm which his brother had shot.
His mum then said “what is the matter Dave?” The sniper replied “it’s me Peter”, “why are you in Dave’s clothes?” Peter then told his mum to go inside where he would explain everything. Peter walked through the door and saw Dave running down the stairs, obviously his mind had taken over his body another tear gradually crept down his face. Peter then walked through to the living room sitting down in his usual seat, opposite where Dave usually sat. Peter’s mum put a hot damp cloth on the wound the pain shocked him back to reality. Peter then started telling his mum the painful truth about how he had become wounded, then about Dave’s death.
Lauren his mum burst into floods of tears. Peter tried to comfort her, but was pushed away, Peter’s father had been listening in the doorway he stepped forward to comfort his wife, looking at Peter through tear stained eyes he said “get out of this house, we have lost two son’s today you are no longer a part of this family”. Peter didn’t answer, leaving the house without a backwards glance. Having to dodge the gunshots that were raining down, eventually reaching the small flat that had become his home for the past five years. Going straight to the clinical looking white tiled bathroom, he searched for the tweezers, and then placing a towel between his teeth he pulled the bullet out of his inflamed arm, then gently wrapping it in clean bandages hopefully to let nature do the rest of the job. Peter then lay on his bed for what seemed ages, but in reality only a short while. Thought’s of the day’s events spinning through his head.
Peter thought it was time to be getting on with his plan, first deciding to get five grenades from the closet, putting one in each pocket and the other three strapping to his back. Peter caught a glance of himself in the hall mirror, yes he could pass for Dave, and the uniform hung the same on him. Walking to the old airstrip that was Dave’s base, he then reached the office where a man in blue uniform, like the one he was wearing asked for id. Peter produced Dave’s id, the man took a sideward glance at Peter then waved him through to what looked like a map room, a captain asked him to come over.
Peter explained that he had been on duty on the rooftops and had just finished a twelve hour shift; Peter then excused himself and went through to the hallway, which lead to the toilets. Peter went into a toilet cubical and placed three of the grenades around the toilet, pulling the pins out Peter ran for his life, clutching the other two grenades in his hands pulling the pins out with his mouth, lobbing one to the right of him and one to the left of him, then just like in the movies jumping away a the exact time the blast went off.
Peter ran off into the darkness with a smirk on his face, when reaching his flat still on a high from the explosion he had caused. The snipers plan had worked; Peter ran himself a steaming bath. Peter turned the radio on and every channel the same “the war is over, the war is over, the war is over.” Peter smiled to himself, but couldn’t help but feel sorrow for all the deaths the war had caused.