Fragments Gallery
The Promise
She stood perfectly balanced atop a fence post. One foot was drawn up to her hip while the second was firmly pressed into the post beneath her. The curls of her wavy brown hair drifted gently in the faint breeze. Her big brown eyes narrowed as she focused on her target. Her arms came up, one outstretched and clutching a pistol while the second was parallel to her shoulders, pressed underneath the first to help with her stability. She shook slightly as she glared down the barrel of the gun but soon she stilled once more.
Her expression of concentration never changed.
It was a sunny day; the soft ocean breeze coming off of the water just over the hill was refreshing, but it couldn’t combat the unrelenting gaze of the mid-morning sun. A row of trees faced the young woman across an old dirt road; a road rutted after many years of being traversed by rickety old carts and tired plow horses. The fence post on which she balanced was one of many set around an old field, all connected together with rusty barb wire.
Carefully she adjusted her balance, just watching as her target, a small wooden disk hanging from a tree some fifty feet away, swung back and forth. Her eyes followed the disks path; followed the movements of the black twine which attached it to the tree. It swayed left and right, left and right.
Its movements were almost like clockwork. A bead of perspiration slithered down her brow but she launched it with a tiny flick of her head. Her finger tightened on the trigger and then slowly loosened.
Patience.
She watched the disk sway, her gaze never leaving the tiny black dot inked into its center. Taking a deep breath she closed her eyes, shutting out the light. Her other senses took over; filling the void left by the sudden darkness she had immersed herself in. The scent of brine reached her nostrils, carried by the wind from the ocean a short way away. Faint rustling filled her ears as the breeze passed through the trees gently brushing against the leaves. Her outstretched arm swayed left and right, still tracking the small disk.
“You can do it,” encouraged a faint echo of a voice, “Just take your time.”
She had all the time in the world.
Her lips pursed together, her grip on the gun tightened. Slowly, ever so slowly, her finger pressed against the trigger.
The gunshot sounded strangely muted in the open air.
A faint aroma reached her nose before it was blown away. Gun smoke.
Her eyes opened, sight returned. Her lips curled upwards. The black twine still hung from the tree, its fibres now torn, but the small disk had fallen from sight. A sense of elation arose as well as a feeling of satisfaction.
Careful to jump clear of the barbed wire she hopped off of the post. Small clouds of dust rose where her feet hit the dry road. Nervously she strode towards the tree, her eyes searching the ground. A splash of tan against the green grass caught her eye a little ways past the tree. Quickly she walked towards the object, ducking her head to avoid a few of the lower hanging branches. Kneeling she picked up the disk. The disk itself was now heavily cracked, only holding its shape because of the ring of bark around the edge. The black dot in the center was gone, in its place there was a hole. She ran a finger along the interior uneven edge and winced as a protruding splinter pierced her skin. She scowled at the pain but otherwise ignored it.
The wind picked up and then lessened, blowing her hair into her face. She looked up and around as she brushed the curls away from her eyes. She was far enough over the hill now that she could see the ocean; she could clearly hear the roar of the waves crashing to the shore. She vividly remembered standing here years before. Waiting for her to come home.
“I will make you proud,” She whispered to the open air.