“The Perfect Shot”

This one was the first short story I’ve done on a wim and I thoroughly enjoyed it! I didn’t put much thought into it and wrote what I felt based on how I thought to best portray the prompt. So I hope you enjoy it.

A photographer and a sniper are in a bar. Neither is aware of the other’s occupation. They talk about how to take the “perfect shot”

The bar is cold, as always. The shock my body experiences whenever I step into this little hub was almost euphoric I believe, if that was the word to describe it.

After all, I was not a man who came with many extravagant words, very few in fact.

The usual Friday routine went without any problems. Some sort of alternate pop rang out through the speakers, entertaining the few that would nod their heads haphazardly to the rhythm, missing it greatly. They were already drunk and it was barely 9 pm.

Another person took my seat tonight. An odd occurrence. I’ve never seen him around this time either, which piqued my interest ever so slightly. I prided myself in my memory, so I knew he could not have been a regular.

I take a seat next to him, the countertop is cold and the seat even colder; biting my ass as if I sat there naked as the day I had been born.

I settled on a rum and coke; bland but it did the job. This was my first taste of alcohol in weeks. I don’t often come to indulge in it here, the bar was rather a haven for some brief hours before I had to return to such a draining world.

He had a good stature, tall. Maybe slightly under 6 foot. His hair had barely covered his eyes and a lip ring gleamed in the hanging lights above us.

His gaze was fixed on what looked like a landscape photo. It was intriguing enough for me to wish to ask him about it, but I stopped myself before I could possibly create an embarrassing situation that I wouldn’t know how to get out of.

Almost immediately, he turned to me, a slow smile spreading on his face. I realized it suited him. It left an impression of feigned innocence. I believe I’ve dealt with someone like him before, very briefly.

“I love the area you’re looking at.” Perhaps a better way to ease into the conversation.

“Oh?” Something about his teasing voice excited me. I was tempted to indulge him.

“It looks like a really good shot. The perfect one even.”

“What do you think the perfect shot would be then?” My brows quirked,

“I think something that truly captures the life of things. Why would you not want such if you’ve set your aim almost perfectly.”

“And if you miss the shot?”

“I don’t miss.” I had just noticed his mismatched eyes; Gray and an oak brown. They seemed to blend with each other almost perfectly. I pondered on who else might think the same as I have on him.

“”Does distance matter?” I focused on his words once more, “It might be a bit of a hassle depending on what I’m trying to take.”

He swirled his drink, breaking eye contact to take a small sip, “Distance shouldn’t matter once you’re good at your job, Sir.” It almost felt like he was testing me. I mimicked his actions, set my glass down, ordered another and continued.

“That’s why we have larger lenses. To see exactly what we need to take. Then we make sure we have nothing else around.”

“Oh God no. That would be unfortunate if someone would be there to disturb the peace I’d try to capture.”

I picked at my nails, “Lastly? The perfect shot needs to be memorable. Something you can never forget.”

“Whether good or bad.”

“I don’t believe in taking poor photos.” He blinked, “But the poor shots are what sometimes make the best income don’t they. Sometimes you can’t question. You simply have to do it.”

He was right I suppose. Some of my best have been the ones I would feel awful about. Ponder days on end wondering what I could’ve done. How I could’ve avoided such mistakes.

“I never got your name.” I heard the raspiness in his voice and wondered if he smoked or vaped. 

“Andrew.”

That smile had returned and I dipped to his lips again. It did suit him; an awfully charming and disarming weapon he had indeed.

“And yours?” I suppose that’s the best way I could respond, “Adrian.”

“You seem to know a thing or two about photography don’t you?” I saw some tension in his muscle and his gleamed with mischief; as if he was telling himself a joke that he would only understand.

“I would like to think my captures are just simple and effective. Maybe not as humble as yourself however.”

Some idle chatter and I found myself giving him my phone number. Then as he got out of his seat, I caught a glimpse of something strapped to his waist.

It looked an awful lot like a firearm, I wondered if he was perhaps a service man. Army or maybe the police.

He didn’t seem to think much of my discovery. He had even held my gaze as I had looked up before he had left.

The room had felt a little bit warmer then, if that was how I could describe it.

A crash sounded and I took that as my cue to leave. The rowdy crowd was just beginning to get themselves ready for a night of sins and sob stories.

I think I’ll be continuing with these prompts actually. I hope you enjoy them just a tad. Check out my latest post below

-Jay