The Sniper

Suspense Stories | Nov 11, 2014 | 4 min read
72 Votes, average: 4 out of 5
Jim Flint a retired Navy Seal Sniper grabbed the mail from his mail box and tucking it under his arm unlocked his front door and stepped into his cold cabin. The woodstove had gone out and he had to get it going quick as he could see his breath and Bo his Black Lab was sleeping under his doggie bed trying to stay warm. Opening the door to the woodstove and raking the coals they started to glow as flames started do dance again. Jim threw in a log and kept the door open a crack as not to choke the flame. Bo peaked from under his bed with sleepy eyes and when he noticed his master was home began to violently wag his tail under the bed to a steady rhythm, Thump. Thump.

Amongst other things the cabin was decorated with his purple heart, medal of valor and what he fought the hardest for was the pin of 20 years sober.

Jim hung his coat on a nail by the stove and went over to say hello to Bo "don't worry boy, the stove will be warm in a bit". As if Bo could understand him he rose from his overturned bed and walked slowly across the old hardwood floor, toenails clicking on the wood as he walked before plopping down at the mouth of the stove to absorb its heat. Jim sat on the old couch and began to go through his mail. Bill after bill, a Bass Pro Shops flyer and Caballa's new hunting catalog. Jim was an avid hunter and outdoorsman so he always enjoyed relaxing and looking through his new catalogs. A thick padded envelope caught his eye and he tore it open before looking inside. Jim gasped as the envelope and its contents fell to the floor, Terror and nausea overcame him as he ran to the bathroom to vomit from the gruesome photos he had just seen and were now scattered on the floor of his home.

Pulling his head from the cold porcelain of the toilet and flushing his lunch the images flashed through his mind again, severed heads, bloody limbs hanging from huge hooks with blood dripping off strands of flesh, the metal pans put under the dismembered torso's to catch the blood….the blood so much blood…Jim vomited again. The images brought back memories, terrible memories from the secret missions he had been involved in. Years of counseling for his PTSD and Alcoholism evaporated as a blend of wartime images and the gore of the envelope flashed through his mind like a slide show. The smell of burning paint suddenly shook him from the shock of the moment and Jim realized it was the smell of the woodstove overheating as he had left the door open too long. Running into the living room and gathering the envelope with the horrifying photos he threw it all into the stove and shut the door, the photos were gone but the gruesome images were etched in his brain to haunt him forever.

A knock at the door of the cabin made Jim jump from the blank stare he had as he was trying to make sense of the moment, Bo launched for the door while barking and peered back at his master to back him up. Looking out the front window Jim could see the small mail delivery van parked at the end of his driveway as its exhaust puffed white mist into the cold air. "Hello" said Jim as he opened the door. Bo sat proudly behind his master as his tail wagged violently. "Hi Mr. Flint, did I by chance deliver a package here by mistake? It was a big padded envelope and going to the Durfee's…you know the big house up the hill a way". "No I ugh….I don't thing…Uh nothing at all said Jim. "Ok Mr. Flint, I must have left it someplace else" ….If it turns up let me know. Nodding his head that the message was received Jim shut the door and watched the old man slumber back to the mail truck. Realizing he had a sadistic killer as a neighbor Jim grabbed his dusty bottle of Jack from the cupboard. What shall I do Bo…..What shall I do.

After his third shot of whisky Jim sat down and realized what must be done, the target must be killed before he could claim more victims. The photos were gone and any proof that the authorities would need were destroyed. It will only be a matter of time before the killer found out that he had seen the gruesome torture chamber photographs. Jim planned on one well-placed shot with his .308 rifle. Planning his mission he unlocked the gun safe and pulled out his trusty Rem 700.

Looking through the reticle or his high power scope Jim surveyed the landscape of the huge house and yard. The air was still and darkness has set in as the sniper waited for his shot. The rifle was fully equipped with a silencer and flash hider so there was no chance of his location when the trigger was to be pulled. Suddenly a light was visible in the upstairs window and a large shadow could be seen. Jim could see his target now in the window with a cell phone to his ear, Mr. Durfee was a big burly man with a long beard and Jim recognized him as he often waved pulling out of his driveway with his Mercedes SUV. Jim switched the safety off and prayed to god to forgive him as he zeroed in. A single shot and Jim saw the man's head explode through the scope. The sniper calmly retreated back to his house through the woods and flushed the casing in the toilet before breaking the gun down and hiding it in the attic.

The next morning Jim awoke early and started a pot of coffee. Turning on the old radio and putting food in Bo's bowl he thought of the deed he had done the night before. The radio played an old Billy Joel song and as it ended the local news started up. "In local news, Slasher film Special effects master Victor Durfee was killed at his home last night, well known for his gory and bloody movies and known to be the best gore effect master. Mr. Durfee leaves behind two children and a wife, Authorities are investigating"

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