BLEEDING SHADOW - Poetically Written Fiction

In shirts, I am kind of civilized, like a civilian. But in this black uniform, I am an ancient warrior fighting for a nation that smiles at my absence, a nation that calls only dead people heroes. There are missiles flying like birds in the sky, asking me to die and bullets swimming in the blood of my friends, and friends of my blood. But I keep moving, gun clapsed in my clean red hands.

Every hair that falls to the ground rings danger, the fear of the avenger.
"They are here in this cave, look at this!", Drolu whispers with his hands.
Voices ahead, voices in head, there is trouble. I can hear the loud shot that Drolu least expects to hear or take. He accepts the honour, he becomes a hero because he fights and imprisons an enemy's bullets in his head.
"Bravo!" something warns me.
"Kill that air-near-me!" another compels me.
Thrusting my arms ahead, and trusting my sniper's peace, I open fire at a figure, a figure of speech running into the caves of their hearts. I hear him run, and that was the fun.
I open fire. Then I hear a loud groan that assures me of my target's success. I open fire. Rushing into the darkness, my sight preyed my heart while I prayed in the same heart that this dark figure is not just a speech. He looks like personification, personifying someone I cannot see.

What pampers me that a bullet left this gun is a trail of blood. I follow, steadily as the figure limps unsteadily. Finally, the pursuit ends at the start of his pleading.
"Al Bamiku, I am no one" he cries in laughter.
"You'll be my hero soon" I mock his tears.
So, I lift my arm again to send him a package, but my sniper fails, my pistol too!
"Eye, am a shadow, you are a soul-jar", he laughs in abandon. Soon he breaks the jar, and makes me a hero!

© Tobi Salami, 2018
Source: https://tobisalami.blogspot.com/2018/08/bleeding-shadow.html?m=1

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