The weapon feels natural in my hand. My muscles twitch with anticipation and I can’t wait to fire the shot. Timing and aim are critical, so I breathe and raise my arm. The target is only 20 metres away, so it should be easy pickings but I haven’t shot anything in years, so I could miss, how embarrassing.
The ten year old standing beside me nocks his arrow and with casual carelessness, releases it into the air. No, no, I say as it strikes the outside circle. Pretend its a deer or better still, pretend you’re a disgruntled Apache going after a land grabbing government official. It’s the mid 1800s and you’re really pissed off.
He fires again. As if he could read my thoughts, he strikes the centre circle. Well done, lad, I think.
My turn. A few people have annoyed me of late, but not enough for me to wish them dead. So, fantasising about sending an arrow through their head does no good. I’ve got it. I’m a survivor in a post-apocalyptic world and the only thing left to live on is wildlife since there are no more Tescos…
I nock my arrow and pull back. The yellow circle has become a tasty, un-suspecting bunny. Look out Bugs, here I come. Arrow heading your way. I aim and release. The arrow flies and hits home. Rabbit stew for dinner.
I let out a little chuckle and go forward to gather my arrows. As the others around me do the same, boys and girls, an older couple, and a young man, I think that there’s no reason why an archery range in the middle of Centerparks can’t be interesting with a little imagination.
Writing Prompt: Use your imagination. Place a weapon in your hands and wish yourself into a situation where you’d need to use it. Have fun and take the safety off.