The Ones: The Gun’s Fear by Kishan Paul

The Ones is a writing blog game in which participants receive a story title, a little wrinkle to up the challenge factor and then must create a single draft story in no more than one hour from the prompt. They then trade stories and post someone else’s entry on their website. My guest is Kishan Paul.
Gabe wraps his arms around mine and raises them.  His cheek presses against mine. “The gun is a part of you.  It feels what you feel,” he whispers in his deep southern drawl. I love the way it rumbles deep in his chest when he speaks.
The metal feels heavy in my hands.  He bends my index finger and rests it against the trigger and I shudder. “Then I am currently feeling the gun’s fear. Cause it’s scared.”
He laughs and kisses my cheek. “There’s nothing to be scared of.”
“Says the man who isn’t blind to the gun wielding woman who is.”
“It’s a paint ball gun, what’s the worst that can happen?”
Images of damaged trees, and cars pop into my head.  Not to mention the unsuspecting hikers that could be defaced. “Seriously? Do you want me to answer that?”
“Jana, you have the sharpest senses of anyone I’ve met.”
“Because you’ve never met a blind person before.” I snap back.  I am scared… a little. But I know Gabe won’t let me do anything too disasterous.  He’ll let me embarrass myself and stand back and laugh, the big dummy.  But he’ll step in if the situation becomes dangerous.
Hmm, maybe we need to define dangerous.
“True. I just want you to be able to see how amazing your senses really are.” His hands are still around my waist and I know it’s because he likes touching me.  No problem, I like him touching me too.
“And so you are going to leave me in a forest with a gun and see if I can shoot you? Seriously, what’s wrong with you?” I ask.
His body shakes and the rumble of his laugh warms me. “Okay fine. I want to see if I can sneak up on you. If I’ve still got my skills.”
Now I’m laughing.  “You want to know if you can out smart the blind lady?” I turn around and point the weapon at him. “Gabe, are you using my disability to become a better SEAL?”
But I know he’s not there.  I can smell him. The mix of pine and musk that’s all Gabe seems to be stronger right behind me.  His hand steadies my waist and his lips press against my cheek.
“I’m dating a blind woman because she’s hot and because I never know what’s going to come out of her sassy mouth and I’m a retired SEAL, remember?”
My chest warms and a smile tugs at my lips. How does he do that? After working so hard to be independent, to prove to the world that I don’t need anyone, he’s becoming someone I need.  Someone I look forward to spending time with.
In the distance a dog barks incessantly and it worries me.  “Sally’s scared.”
“No, she feels your nervousness so she’s worried about you.” he says.
“I paid thousands of dollars for her, she darn well better be worried.”
He gives me one more peck on the cheek.  “She’ll be fine. Remember to use your senses,” he says and lets go of me.
“Gabe.”
His cologne fades into nothingness.
“Gabe, this isn’t funny. You can’t date blind women just to use them for training camp.”
I hear a chuckle somewhere to the right of me and turn to follow the sound.
Silence.
Not a bird tweets or bug chirps.  It’s as if they know there two creatures crazier than them wandering about their home.
My finger rests against the gun’s trigger and I point it straight ahead.  The tips of my toes feels over the grass and I slowly take a step.
My free hand moves up and down to make sure nothing like a tree limb, bear, a snake hangs around waiting for me.
This was a dumb idea.  Why did I agree to this?
Something crunches to my left and I turn, running smack into a tree.
Grumble.
I walk around the tree and continue forward.
When I find him, I’m going to empty every one of these paint pellets on him.
I’ve played paint ball before when I could see, before the accident.  I know exactly what someone covered in paint looks like.  The image brings a smile to my face.
The past five months with Gabe has been the most fun I’ve had in a long time.  He’s the first person to not treat me differently because of my handicap.
Granted there are times I would prefer he did, like when there’s a step I’m not aware of  in front of me or a wall that pops up unexpectedly. But I have a funny feeling he likes playing hero and that means I get the supporting role of damsel in distress.
A twig breaks behind me and I turn and press the trigger. The pellet pops out of my gun and I hear it smack into something solid.  Although Gabe’s pretty much solid muscle, this sounds more dense, like another tree.
Dang, I forgot to ask him how many pellets were in here.
The wind shifts and I inhale.
A smile stretches across my lips.  My finger twitches against the trigger.
I turn a few inches to my left and empty the rest of the pellets.
“Oh for crying out loud,” he yells.
Bulls eye!
To read the next entry in the circle, click here. To go straight to my story from this prompt, go to Paul Hamilton’s Blog.
 
Kishan Paul is an aspiring author.  Mother of two beautiful children, she has been married to her best friend for over 16 years. With the help of supportive family and friends, she balances her family, her counseling practice, and writing with out sinking into insanity.
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