Trigger

• Virginia Su, Grade 10, Kambala School For Girls
• Short Story
• 2016

Excellence Award in the 'Top Secret 2016' competition

“Hector”, an old lady nudges him. “Have some scones. They’re delectable today.”
He blinks. “Thank you, Marielle.”
He reaches out to grab the plate. A thrill of anticipation coursed through his veins. He looked to the bleak grey skies as the minutes ticked by. Despite his excitement, a cold, dark dread pooled in his stomach. His hand stops.
“I’m sorry, I don't think I will, actually. My stomach hurts a little.”
“Oh fine, fine, dear. Should I call a nurse?”
“No, it’s alright. I’ll just grab some water.”

Leaning on his cane, he limps over to the refreshment table. A bitter breeze blows through the open window, sending a shiver through him. He lifts the pitcher and pulls out a glass. Cold. Water. The only sensation he could feel in the complete and total darkness engulfing him. The mud squelched beneath his shoes, though his own feet were swimming in water themselves. The stench of metal was unbearable. He shivered, and he drooped slightly as he walked along, dirt walls imprisoning him. A multitude of crashes and shouts above him.

He hears a quiet dripping sound. Looking down, a laugh escapes. A nurse hurries over.
“Oh deary me. Your shoes are not replacement for cups,” she laughs and she kneels down with a cloth.
He chuckles. “Oh, I would have never guessed. It’s a tradition where I come from, to use shoes as cups. Gives it a special taste, you see.”
“That’s disgusting!” but her eyes are smiling. “Here, just sit down and take off your shoes.”

A fist blurred into his peripheral vision. A sudden impact on his left arm. It was like every single nerve had been lit on fire. He retaliated, almost involuntarily as he swung out his right arm at the man in front of him. He couldn’t tell if it hit, he couldn’t even wonder, as he ducked to avoid another barrage of punches. He lunged at the soldier, and they fell, smearing their faces in the dirt.

“Stop! Stop!” Someone pulls at his arm.
The nurse is crouching on the ground. He widens his eyes.
“Are you alright? Here, let me help you up.” He reaches his arm out towards her.

“Throw it to the right. PRIVATE! CHUCK IT! NOW!” He lifted his arm, and threw it over the sand bags. A second later, a loud explosion could be heard amongst the cacophony of shouts and shots.

A crash. Shards of ceramic bedecks the floor, the tea seeping into the carpet, like spilled blood into dirt.

“I’ll go get a broom. I’ll clean this up. Don’t worry, I’m fine.” He pushes away the crowd of people.

My heart beat furiously, and the dread in my stomach coiled ever tighter. Anxiety. My mind was a nest of chaos, jumbled and growing. Overpowering me. I couldn’t think. I couldn't feel. The soldier stared straight at me. He lifted the rifle. He aimed carefully. I didn’t move away. He couldn't miss.

His finger pressed the trigger.