A Dance With The Reaper

Before I start I’d like to say this is partly a true story (except the part where I shoot) based on my experience with the Tripoli wars in Lebanon

It was the war, every man’s worst nightmare, every poor man that is. The ruling class sat warm in their houses sipping their expensive whiskey while the other 90% were forced to step in the dirt and kill one another for a cause few of them really understand. No one remembers how the fighting began, nor why. I was only 17 when it started. I didn’t choose a side, but my innate religion chose for me and placed me on the battleground. My good throwing arm made me in charge of hurling grenades while the fighters cleared a path for me with American assault rifles.

It was a cold December morning. It had been raining continuously with a soft drizzle since that midnight. The floor was wet, and the air was tainted with a thick fog that hid us from our enemies and hid our enemies from us. “Our” enemies claimed the hills as their domain, while “we” spread through the city like lice hiding in every crevice. Their preferred weapon of choice obviously being the sniper given their strategic geographic advantage. We took everything we could manage, mostly automatic rifles and grenades. We had the numbers advantage but few of us had the courage to scale up the mountain to take the fight onto higher ground. While my father and I were setting a trap since dawn, the others were supposed to push some fighters towards a small winding street where my father and I stood waiting at the first floor in an abandoned building armed with guns and bombs. When the time comes it would be like hunting rats in a trash can. Then the time came, but nothing happened. It was eerily quiet. We waited for an hour. Nothing. Another hour passed. Again nothing. We were worried but too scared to leave our position. No one contacted us through the radio. Then we hear gunshots, and a few moments later, as planned, we see 8 armed men running beneath us. My father begins taking shots and I throw some grenades at them. The explosions manage to get most of them as body parts and blood spatter manage to fly high enough to reach us. I still remember the arm that fell through the adjacent window. My father, filled with confidence, takes up his position again at the window. A few seconds later I hear a very loud gunshot, I wipe the splattered blood off my eyes only to see in horror the corpse of my father laying on the floor with a bullet through his skull dripping with blood. There was no time to waste on grieving, I was prepared for this moment, I had to change positions before the sniper does to me what he did to my dad. I reach for his AK only to have a bullet fly through the window again missing me by a few centimeters only. I grab the rest of his ammo and scurry out of there in fear. My heartbeat was so loud I could hear it. It was going so fast it transitions from a fast beat to almost a single note. I reached the streets carrying more weapons than my weak body can carry and started running. I was trained to run in zigzag patters as it made it harder for the snipers to hit us. Surprisingly he misses yet again. I feel like it was turning into a personal duel. I knew I had to get to the rest of the fighters, only there I could find protection, but they were more than 10 blocks away, there was no way I could reach them without crossing open streets multiple times, and I wasn’t ready to risk it. Instead I went through a small shortcut. I was running as fast as my feet can carry me, and they began to feel as if they were pumping with battery acid. I reached a jump I had to make. It was about a 5 meter drop and very risky. I went for it and hurt my right foot. ‘Great, now I have to hop the rest of the way’ I begin to think of myself. I get to the park where they usually toss enemy bodies, I dropped my guard as often it is a safe zone where we smoke. A few meters in and I am shocked by what I see. The after mentioned corpses had become food for the rabid dogs of the area, I see them fighting over a little kid taking nibbles at his throat and stomach, a white foam dripping from their jaws to the cold concrete. They saw me and ran after me. I reached for the gate and locked it behind me. Twice I had escaped death that day and I wasn’t going to take any more chances. What I felt now was not fear but anger at the enemies. I had to avenge my father, my uncle, and my little sister. I had to take matters into my own hands for once. I wasn’t the type of alpha man who just took chances and had the confidence to do things, but now I had to fire back. Literally. I was just behind the abdelkader building, where I know our snipers usually stay. I go for the highest floor, only to find our sniper, bassem laying on the floor with a bullet through his throat, and I knew he has responsible. In all my anger, I forgot the risk was taking and I went for his sniper rifle. I peered through the scope for possible signs of life. I saw nothing. I waited a whole 30 min, the longest 30 mins of my life. Then I saw him, I was not sure if it was him but deep down inside I hoped for it. The sniper who killed my friends and family, I saw him behind his rifle smoking a cigarette staring at the night sky. Easy target. I gauged my crosshair at his head. I wasn’t well trained with this weapon but I had to take my chances. I take my shot. The recoil sends my frail body back and I can’t see what happens. I look through the scope. I have hit his arm. I could see him shouting and screaming, I couldn’t hear him but I knew exactly what he was saying. Again I had to move, I knew he would fire back, and then he did. Bullets were flying through building walls missing me by a few, but I didn’t care, because in my mind I had partly exacted my vengeance.