Between the Lines

The park. Laughing children, story-high play sets, happy parents, book readers, bird watchers, the fresh smell of pine, and blood - blood everywhere. Not just from one person, but two; dueling it off until their last breath. Of course, only one will come out on top, but whom? Glaring at each other from behind the thick Redwoods, both males shot off another round. A split second later a broad head whistled past one male, and a bullet of a .22 whizzed past the others ear. Breathing heavily from exhaustion neither one of them could outrun each other without getting killed; both skilled marksmen. One mistake could lead to death, and that one mistake was just made. The male with the gun suddenly stepped completely out from behind his Redwood, hands up in surrender. Not thinking, the other mall released his arrow into the hilt of his enemy's chest. Gurgling sounds could be heard from miles; the sounds are that of a dying deer in an abandoned field. Rushing forward, the archer slung his bow across his back, atop of his quiver. He checked for a pulse as he knelt down next to the now supposed deceased man. A crease on his brow deepened when he felt just the faintest of beats of his heart. Swiftly standing, the archer brought up his knee into the air, and slammed down on his enemy's neck with the force of a thousand elephants. A sickening crush filled the silent midnight air around them. Picking up the .22 caliber, the archer retraced his steps to collect the bullets on the park floor, as well as his own arrows along with the tips. One done, he circled back around to the carcass and ripped the arrow, and broad head from the carcass' chest, wiping it off with a white cloth. "Another one down," he muttered, and with a smile on his face. He took out his cell phone to send a quick text message, as he waltzed back to his dad's suburban with a one bullet hole in his right shoulder, and the other that skimmed his side.