The Barn

As I approached the bend, the wiper blades working hard to keep the snowflakes at bay, I caught my first glimpse of the old barn. My skin tingled; ten years seemed like it was yesterday. I soaked in the adrenaline filled memories of my first kill. I was only sixteen at the time.

I turned off the road and slowly drove towards the barn. The only sound I could hear was from my tires crunching over the snow covered gravel. I opened the window and turned off the engine. The silence was blissful. I breathed in the fresh country air and stared out at the beautiful blanket of snow covering the barn and everything around. It was in stark contrast to the blood red stains inside, that I remembered so vividly.

Her name was Rebecca, my first one. Such a sweet young thing, I almost felt guilty killing her. She tried to make a run towards the barn door, but I took aim quickly. I remember the shot being clumsy. I was going for the back of her head, but I didn't have the skill back then and instead got her in the neck. No matter, really. She went down just the same. Her last word was an expletive, yelled out, almost as if in disbelief. Hearing her swear made me wonder if perhaps she wasn't so sweet after all.

Dave the Hat had given me a pat on the back, and from across the barn, Sputnik Jeff and Larry the Pot had given me a thumbs up. They were my best pals back then. Killing Rebecca wouldn't have been nearly as satisfying without my friends having witnessed it. Any of them could have taken the shot, but I was just a little quicker. That's when I got my nickname. They called me Hair Trigger Pete. As Rebecca lay there, motionless, I fired off another few rounds just for the fun of it. We had a good laugh about that later.

I walked around the barn, just to check that I was alone, then opened the gate and went inside. It was how I remembered it, dark and cold, with bales of hay scattered around and the ladders leading up into the rafters. I climbed one of the ladders and looked down, remembering that it was the perfect vantage point. I pointed my imaginary gun at the spot where I had killed Rebecca, and squeezed the imaginary trigger.

A little while later I heard a car approaching. I peeked out and as it pulled onto the gravel I saw it was Jeff. He looked no different than the last time we met up, five years ago. He had a huge grin on his face when he saw me. I handed him a beer and we reminisced while we waited for Dave and Larry to arrive. Rebecca and her friends would also be here soon, and then we would get our guns out.

This paintball reunion was going to be epic.