“Good,” she smiled. “One shot is all you need.”
Frowning, I looked at exaggeratedly large bullseye. The gun was too small in my hands. I could grasp it with one hand and even then, it wasn’t such an easy shot. Did she really think I could hit the center with such a tiny gun?
Didn’t she know that I had terrible depth perception? I turned to look at her again. Her hands were clasped to her chest and she nibbled on her worn out thumb nail.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a crowd had gathered at the booth.
Great.
“You got this. Just point and shoot.”
Like it was so easy. I took a deep breath and rubbed my hands against my jeans. First the right hand then the left. I could do this. Sure, I had never shot a gun before but I had shot a toy gun before. My brothers and I used to run around the backyard all the time. I had prepared for this. I had trained for this.
My gaze flickered to the left. The panda’s bug eyes stared lifelessly at me. There it was the source of my misery and perhaps happiness. It was its fault if this went sideways. It already cost $12 and it was totally not worth it.
I could probably sew something better. I’m sure there were some store that sold that puke colored pink material. Amazon could have it too.
“You got this,” she whispered. She did a little hop.
Maybe she wanted the bunny instead.
“Just one shot,” said the carny behind the booth.
Why was everyone reminding me? I took my stance and aimed the little orange gun. The height mattered. It couldn’t be too high or two low . . . something in between. I closed one eye then the other and decided to keep them both open. I could barely see as it stood.
I’ll do it in three, I told myself. One . . . two . . . deep breath . . . three.
For a moment, everything stood still. No one said anything. Then . . .
“Would you like to try again?”
I heard her speak one word. “Please.”
Dabbling in the Art of Writing 