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Sniper

It is an early Monday morning, the sun is becoming bright
on the land. No one is watching as he comes walking, two bulky suitcases hang from his hands. He
heads toward the tower that stands in the campus, goes through the door and starts up the stairs. The sound
of his footsteps, the sound of his breathing, the sound of the silence, for no one was there. I didn't really know
him. He was kinda strange. Always sort of sat there. He never seemed to change. He reached the catwalk, he
put down his burden. The four-sided clock began to chime. Seven AM, the day is beginning, so much to do
and so little time. He looks at the city where no one had known him. He looks at the sky where no one looks
down. He looks at his life and what it had shown him. He looks for his shadow. It cannot be found. He was such
a moody child. Very hard to touch. Even as a baby he never smiled too much. No no. "You bug me" she
said. "You're ugly" she said. "Please hug me" I said but she just sat there, with the same flat stare
that she saves for me alone when I'm home. He laid out the rifles, he loaded his shotgun. He stacked up
the cartridges along the wall. He knew he would need them for his conversation. If it went as he planned then he
might use them all. He said: "Listen you people. I've got a question. You won't pay attention but I'll
ask anyhow. I've got a way that will get me an answer. I've been waiting to ask you 'til now. Right
now! Am I? I am a lover who's never been kissed. Am I? I am a fighter who's not made a fist. If
I'm alive then there's so much I've missed. How
do I know I exist? Are you listening to me? Are you listening to me? Am I?" The first words he spoke
took the town by surprise. One got Mrs. Gibbons above her right eye. It blew her through the window,
wedged her against the door. Reality pouring from her face, staining the floor. He was kinda creepy. Sort of
a dunce. Met him at a corner bar. I only dated the poor boy once. Just once. That was all. Bill Wedon was
questioned as he stepped from his car. Tom Scott ran across the street but he never got very far. The police
were there in minutes, they set up barricades. But he spoke right on over them, in a half mile circle in the
dumbstruck city his pointed questions were sprayed. He knocked over Danny Tison as he ran towards the
noise, and just about then the answers started
coming, sweet, sweet joy! Thudding in the clockface, whining off the walls. Reaching up to where he sat, their
answering calls. Thirty seven people got his message so far. Yes he was reaching them, right where they are.
They set up an assault team, they asked for volunteers. They had to go and get him, that much was
clear. And the word spread about him on radio and TV. In appropriately sober tones they asked: "WHO CAN
HE BE!" He was a very dull boy. Very taciturn. Not much of a joiner. He did not want to learn. No no.
"They're coming to get me. They don't want to let me stay in the bright light too long. It's getting on
noon now, it's going to be soon now. But oh, what a wonderful song. Mama, won't you hold me.
Teach me and show me your kindness. Mama,
it's getting worse for me. Won't you please make me warm and mindless. Mama, yes you have cursed
me. I never will forgive you for you blindness. I HATE YOU! The wires are all humming for me. And I
can hear them coming for me. Soon they'll be here but there's nothing to fear. No, not anymore
though they've blasted the door." As the copter dropped the gas, he shouted: "Who cares!" They could
hear him laughing as they started up the stairs. They stormed out of the doorway, blinking at the sun. With one
final fusillade their answer had come.... "Am I -- there is no way that you can hide me. Am I -- though you
have put you fire inside me. You've given me my answer can't you see. I was. I am. And now, I WILL BE."

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