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Tom's
Page > Writing > Hard Truths - Preface
| This is the preface to my third novel - Hard
Truths. It is the sequel to Degrees and Inches. Please note that these works must be considered only as a 'in progress'. Most of it is in a raw, unedited form. It contains numerous misspellings, grammatical errors, run-ons, fragments and every other possible error. including personal judgement, opinion and stereotyping. But I've found that when the mood to write strikes me I better get my thoughts down on paper. The editing will also take place here so there will be constant changes. |
John stared at rifle for a long time. He had once righted a wrong with it, but he wasn't proud. It was an act of simple retribution, nothing noble. The act very nearly cost him his life. Certainly it was cost his soul- if the dreams were any indication. The weapon was double-locked onto a stand mounted onto on the mantle of the fireplace. You would not mistake it for a beautiful sportsman's rifle- it was darkly functional. This weapon was made simply to kill, a Remington bolt-action 700 centerfire rifle- the police model. The black stock, textured and non-reflective, made of Kevlar and fiberglass. The bedding block made of aircraft-grade aluminum ran the length of the receiver. Lovingly mounted was a Leupold 3.5 x 10 scope, a Harris bipod and sling. Without ammunition it weighed more than ten pounds. This Remington chambered the .308 Winchester. The muzzle velocity out of the 26" barrel for the moly-coated 168 grain match grade, hollow point rounds was faster than 2600 feet per second- seventeen hundred miles per hour!. John knew the weapon to be terribly accurate- even for a fair shooter. It was several years since he fired the gun but, he remembered it clearly. It was from the second blind. The laser range finder showed a distance of 171 yards. He stalked his target- never giving him an inch, as if fairness had something to do with it. The guy just stood there looking. The round entered just below the left eye and his head exploded over the roof of the Navigator. John smiled at the thought of fixing that particular problem. Then his eyes closed and the smile slowly disappeared into a look of resignation. He knew the dreams would come again. "That's okay, there will be a new one soon." On the ring with his car keys was the key to the lock on the mantle. Reaching into his pants he retrieved his keys, opened both locks and carefully lifted the weapon down. He never thought it would come to this again. © Thomas N. Wood, 2002-2004 All Rights Reserved This work, or any portion thereof, may not be reproduced in any manner whatsoever without the express written consent of the author. |
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