AGE IS ONLY A NUMBER
[Yakov Dzhugashvili]
(10/23/2005)
“I have forgotten how cold mother Russia can be,” a husky man stepped off a small private jet. The landscape was unbearable, unlivable, and fit for only the ruggedness of a rare breed of human beings. The man patted his thick wool gloves as he gave a grouchy, “give me another drink Viktor!” He patted down his puffed up pepper hair as his weathered and hardened face was just as rough as his surroundings. A skinny man with a much younger face gave a soft “are you sure Ivan…you have had too much to drink already.” Ivan growled, “Give me another shot! We have a long way to travel. It will help keep me warm.” The young gentlemen unbuckled his long black suede coat and pulled out a silver canteen. Ivan pushed Viktor, “not that…” he wagged his finger at Viktor’s pocket, “the Vodka! You and your little tricks...I’m not an idiot nephew! I know that it’s only water! If I wanted water Viktor then I’d say give me some damn water!” Viktor looked concerned at Ivan and put away the silver canteen filled with water. Reaching into his left pocket he withdrew a silver flask, which made Ivan give a smirk of relief, “ah the life giver!” Ivan snatched the silver flask and twisted off the top. “You know that stuff doesn’t really keep you warm, if anything it makes you colder.” Ivan’s nose hovered over the top as he took a deep breath, “you have never lived in Russia Viktor.” Ivan toasted the flask after regaining his composure, “so that we may find what we are looking for.” He raised the flask higher but paused and gave a smug little smile “or at least I find what I am looking for.”
He took the shot and handed it towards Viktor, “you want a shot?” Viktor shook his head and Ivan laughed “No? You’re funny college boy, drank too much at those capitalist American colleges?” Viktor straightened his coat and moved past Ivan down the stairs towards a black limo that sat at the bottom. Clapping his stomach Ivan stared over the bleak airport laughing, “Oh Viktor too bad you weren’t educated back in the glory days.” Descending down the flight of metal steps, “I would do anything to get those days back.” Walking up to Viktor who stood by the limo, “I’d give up my entire fortune to bring back the old USSR. Have the world tremble before our feet again.” Clapping him on the shoulder, “Now did your American college teach you anything about that kind of loyalty and nationalism?” “So why don’t you uncle, there are many people that feel the same way you do.” Ivan’s eyes grew wide as a smile stretched from ear to ear across his large gorilla like face, “because I love money more!”
Pulling onto a dirt road Viktor broke the silence, “Where exactly are we Ivan? After all you weren’t clear on all the details.” Ivan stared at the large evergreen trees that surrounded the small airport. Ivan raised his hand into the air as if he was presenting the barren landscape like a present. “Viktor I give you Siberia!” “Well it certainly lives up to everything I have heard Uncle.” Taking a deep breath Ivan looked pleased, “Smell that air Viktor that is the smell of Russia.” Reaching towards the small bar, Ivan grabbed a bottle of his Vodka VS brand and clapped Viktor on the back, “don’t worry my nephew we will be on the plane soon. I promise you will be screwing all those American bimbos soon, I swear.”
The limo rattled down the dirt road clearly not built for the hazardous landscape of Siberia. Snow covered every inch and hung from nearly every tree. The large evergreens stood majestic almost like a photo card. “Ivan…I just thought of something. At that meeting last night you mentioned something about going to a prison, is that why we are here?” Ivan nodded, “you’re my assistant what did the text Jombi sent say?” Withdrawing his cell phone he flipped through his inbox and read a text, “Everything will be prepared Ivan. I have a diamond in the rough for you.” Ivan smiled, “you see there is your answer my dear boy…a diamond in the rough he says, sounds very interesting and promising.” “Uncle,” asked Viktor who continued, “I don’t understand why we are going to the Siberian Maximum Facility. We have other business that needs to be taken care of.” “This is business Viktor,” growled Ivan who now turned his attention towards the unforgiving Siberian landscape. “What business can be conducted at a prison that nobody knows about or nobody cares about. What is the point of us being out here? It doesn’t help us increase sales or distribution?” Ivan continued to stare not really paying attention to anything Viktor was saying. “I mean you won’t even tell me what this is for it’s all a big secret and as your assistant I believe you…” “I believe you need to shut up Viktor…stop asking questions that you couldn’t possibly understand the answer too! Just enjoy the ride, enjoy this vacation for you…have a drink please.”
The prison was small and old with large chunks of the wall missing. The climate had surely taken its toll on it. It was something out of a horror movie with crumbling walls and exposed jail cells. The large gate opened and the limo parked in front of a small door. “Where is that bastard,” yelled Ivan continuing, “everything is ready my ass!” He opened the door and exited the limo with Viktor on his tail. The small door opened and there stood a man old and frail. Age had taken its toll on the man. His spine curved making the man’s walking more difficult. “Ah my dear Jombi,” “this, this is Jombi” smirked Viktor. “Yes Viktor this is your long lost Grandfather Jombi. He runs the prison here!” Ivan gripped the old man and kissed him on each cheek, “It’s good to see you dad.” The old man clapped his withered hand on the large shoulder of Ivan “It is good to see you back in Russia son and this...this here must be my grandson Viktor.” Jombi gave Viktor a hug, “Jesus look at how you have grown I haven’t seen you since you were a little tyke. Now look at you personal assistant to Ivan here that must keep you busy. Your father must be proud. How’s he doing?”
Jombi led them both through the iron door, “He’s fine Jombi. Jeez, it’s freezing in here” exclaimed Viktor. Every breath that was made could be seen in the air. The very air seemed to freeze in its place. “It’s awfully dirty too, I mean this place looks older then…” “SILENCE,” yelled Ivan fuming. “He didn’t mean it dad, your prison is wonderful.” The little old man smiled, “you were always a bad liar Ivan. I can’t keep up with this shit hole.” He gave a soft little laugh, “the government has ordered to keep it a prison until it falls down.” “But what about the prisoners,” asked Viktor as they walked down another hallway. “Well there are only four ways out of this place, a fly in plane that only comes to deliver supplies, also a hell of a walk to a runaway wouldn’t you agree? The broken down train out back, which no prisoner could conduct, especially in this shit storm weather, am I right Ivan?” Jombi led them into a room covered in dirt and mold. The wallpaper pealed as the light flickered. “And what is the last way,” Jombi turned, “a pine box.” “So basically all death,” Jombi shrugged, “I guess that is one way that you can put it.” “But doesn’t that mean you’re as doomed as they are,” Ivan shoved Viktor “quiet college boy! I do apologize dad. He hasn’t gotten out of the American classroom setting.” Jombi shook his head motioning his hand towards a rusted door, “please Ivan, now if you still want to talk business.”
“Wait here Viktor,” Ivan rested his hand on his shoulder as Jombi opened the metal door. “But what am I supposed to do,” Ivan gave a large shrug, “take a nap your always whining about sleep.” Viktor groaned and sat in the cleanest of the muddy chairs. “Just make sure you sleep with your mouth closed….ain’t telling what is going to climb in there in these parts.” Viktor gave a mournful look as Ivan and Jombi left him. “So, I heard the rules of the next hunt are very interesting this time,” Ivan nodded “I want that Diamond in the Rough Award.” Jombi smiled and whispered, “I have just the diamond that will help you win that bonus. I wish your mother was still alive she would be proud of you embracing the club like this. Taking this much trouble to find a contestant especially one like this guy.” Jombi led the way deeper into the prison, “so are you going to attend the upcoming hunt dad?” Jombi shook his head, “no I don’t think I will be able to attend I can’t afford a flight out.” Ivan waved his hand “Please dad I will send a plane for you. I know the old group would like to see your wrinkled old face.”
A door closed behind them as rows upon rows of prison cells sat in front of them, “oh so do I get to pick?” Jombi shook his head, “no I told you I have a real jewel for you.” They walked past the cells every man growled behind them watching them pass. They were some of the most terrifying men that Ivan had ever seen. Making his way to a door across the hall, they stepped through another hallway and through another door. They continued down a flight of stairs and through and even longer hallway. The rooms seemed to be getting colder the deeper they descended. After traveling through a set of double doors and down a steel staircase Ivan had to ask, “Please dad I am out of breath where are you taking me?” “Patience my dear Ivan I told you I had something special,” after unlocking another steel door they moved down another metal staircase. “Alright dad that’s enough I am not taking another step if you don’t tell me about this diamond?”
Jombi smiled as he stepped up to another steel door, “only a couple people know about this place…this is a secret from back in the Soviet Union. It is not located on any map and forgotten to time. As far as the world knows we do not exist.” “Dad I don’t understand,” Jombi smiled wider, “did you ever hear of a man named “Yakov Dzhugashvili?” Crinkling his face in thought, “it rings a bell but I can’t place him.” The door unlocked as another metal staircase led down into thick darkness. “You might remember him as the forgotten son,” Ivan’s eyes began to pop excitedly “you mean Joseph Stalin’s son.” Jombi almost wanted to burst as he flicked a switch and a small dinky light appeared at the bottom of the stairs.
They descended the stairs as a huge four walled glass room came into view. The first cell was empty as a dead body lay in a glass coffin. The man was something that Ivan had only read about in history books. The man’s skin was waxy and pale as a small gray mustache hung under his nose. His gray hair was parted to the right as his hands were folded across a brown suit. A red sash was tied around his right arm a black swastika sat in the middle. Ivan had to stop in his tracks, “Is that…no, it can’t be,” Jombi placed his hand on Ivan’s shoulder “It sure is…” Ivan shook his head, “I was told that he committed suicide.” Jombi shook his head, “Stalin ordered him to forever be punished for his betrayal.” Ivan just stared at one of the most evil men the world had ever seen, “Adolf was the prized collection of Stalin.” “So,” Ivan asked in mock surprise, “how come nobody knows about his place?” Jombi smiled, “oh Ivan it is a long story and I don’t have the time to tell you.” “Well give me a short version,” Jombi turned Ivan away and began to think. “When the Iron Curtain fell the Soviets brought special prisoners back into Russia and put them in a place that nobody would go looking for them. This prison is a little dark secret of the country. We are here until the building crumbles. In fact we only ever released one man…can’t remember the name but he was a loyalist to Nazi Germany. I later learned he broke into the Kremlin with his son and a group of followers all looking for Hitler… that stupid fool didn’t even know his body was several floors beneath him all those years.”
Jombi stopped in front of a large thick plastic window which contained another human being only this was a living one. He had slicked back gray hair tied in a ponytail and looked surprisingly fit for being contained in a plastic box. Performing knuckle pushups at an alarming rate, he took little notice of Ivan and Jombi. He had a small bed and a toilet with a small amount of leisure activities, crossword puzzles and books. Jombi held up his hand as he presented, “this here is Yakov Dzhugashvili…Stalin’s son, and some believe the heir to the Soviet Union. Many people would pay big money to release this man, all for the sake of resurrecting the Soviet Union. Ivan turned to Jombi, “How is that possible he’d be dead by now!” “Actually my dear Ivan this man was captured by the Germans and supposedly killed in a concentration camp in 1943. He is actually 98 years old and he is the most athletic man I have ever seen. You see that’s all he does all day…that’s all he really can do. My dear Ivan you might know him as the Buka?” “Buka,” Ivan repeated with a smile now appearing on his face. He began to reminisce about his mother’s tales of “the Butcher of Bolkhov.” Nodding his head Jombi smiled, “yes Ivan he was traded behind Stalin’s back. His uncle Alexander Svanidze got him out of Sachsenhausen concentration camp in spring of 1943. He was marked off as dead by the Germans to keep the secret. When Stalin found out he killed Alexander, and Yakov escaped for six years before he was captured. Stalin must have thrown away the key because here is where he remains. Nobody knows he is here and since the prison houses so many political enemies and dangers of the former state it is off every and all maps. We and these people do not exist. Stalin deemed it a fate worse than death.
Yakov picked himself up from the dirty ground and saw Ivan and Jombi staring at him. He stared back at them both with his one good eye like a lion in the zoo. “He was kept hidden for the safety of the motherland.” “So according to the entire world dad,” Jombi nodded “he is dead.” “And what about the Russian government…” Jombi shook his head, “Putin knows from Boris Yeltsin, who was told about this prison by Gorbachev. In March of 86 Gorbachev told us about how he was burning millions of classified documents in fear of the Union’s collapse. That same year the Watchers actually sponsored Yeltsin’s membership. You see Ivan members take care of members…after all we do need funding, can’t run a hunt on dreams. But I assure you to the rest of the government he doesn’t exist nobody in this place exists.”
Ivan stared at him for a long time, “there are two problems dad. One is that he is too old. He wouldn’t stand a chance against Creature X. Look he is even wearing an eye patch, he wouldn’t last a day!” Jombi shook his head, “don’t let his age fool you son. He is crafty and a survivor…it’s in his blood. His uncle Alexander used to take him hunting with him using traditional bow and arrows. He won a bunch of archery awards.” Ivan wagged his finger, “you better be right dad! I am going to personally send out my assistant Viktor to find out all he can about this place.” Laughing Jombi replied, “Look Ivan if I were a sponsor I would take him…if it were me.” “Well there is one more problem dad. There is a stipulation where the sponsors must have a previous relationship with their candidate. I don’t know this man. I would be fined heavily and I...” Jombi held up his hand, “Ivan I know of the rule, and you do have previous relationship with him that fits the requirement. He is your great great grandfather.” “Impossible,” snarled Ivan returning to stare at the old man. “Your great great grandmother was a lady of the night, and she was impregnated by that monster.” Ivan smiled, “a small world indeed.” With a slight growl Ivan said, “Alright, you just make sure he gets to the weigh in!” Jombi nodded, “I speak directly with Vladimir Putin. He came to me looking for sponsorship into our club and you’re in luck. I will be speaking to him tomorrow for our monthly report. I’ll get him to the weigh in safe and sound.”
Yakov was staring at the two people who gazed inside his cell as if he was nothing more than a fish in an aquarium tank. He leaned forward and growled into the wall “How dare you look at me like you don’t know who I am! I am the most feared man in all of Russia!” My name strikes fear in the hearts of people all around the country! I am the Buka… family’s sing of my horrors to lull their children to sleep.”
Buka…Buka…Buka…
Will you let me live today...Live to see another day
So make sure that you’re fast asleep...
When the Buka comes to creep
Buka…Buka…Buka…
What were they standing there talking about? It was rare that anybody came down here most of the time I had to feast on the mice that made their way into my cell. I should be controlling the country and everyone should be bowing before me, where did I go wrong?
(October 4, 1942)
I remembered pulling into a town named Bolkhov. It was a small farming village affected by the ravages of war, and with the constant increasing quota from Stalin the people had been worked to death. That is why it was not surprising to me that the villagers retreated to their homes upon my arrival. I saw others clenching their outdated weapons tightly. Their small village was soon filled with the small division that my father had given to the disgraced Captain Iosif Popov. This division’s purpose was to keep a watchful eye on me. It was given to Popov as a punishment by Stalin. I being Stalin’s son no matter how “blacksheeped” I was Popov wouldn’t dare to deny any order I gave. The couple T-70 tanks and one IS-2 that we did have barely ran as it was and were more for show than for battle. They ran as if in their final stages of operation. However it did send an impressive image to be riding on the top of the large IS-2 tank despite my lack of any military training.
The villagers all stared fearfully as a small jeep with several loud speakers pulled up next to us. The soldiers moved along the sides of the vehicles clenching their assault rifles. One of the men handed me the microphone as the town peered out of their tiny windows. “My good people of Bolkhov…your country needs your help as I am sure you are all well aware.” My shouts did not seem to stir the people as I hoped it would. “The German forces have penetrated deep into the territory, and I plan on going to help our brothers and sisters in the fight.” The town was almost a veritable ghost town as these people still seemed to honor the old ways. “I know that all of you are wondering what it is you can do to help us in the fight against the German scum.” The people began to exit their houses like roaches poking their heads out from various corners of the room. “But we have already met our quota this month to the motherland,” an old gentlemen with a push broom mustache was standing in his door. “Indeed but you have the privilege of giving even more,” the people were all shaking their heads slightly. Some of the women gave worried looks as they turned to their husbands almost hoping to be dreaming. The old man also gave a concerned look as his old hunched wife squeezed through the door. “But if you take anymore this town will die…all of us will die!” “We all must dig deep to provide everything we can to support our troops and our motherland.” The old man scoffed as he turned, I remembered turning to him, “and do you have a problem with this?”
The man shook his head, “no I don’t have a problem with supporting Stalin I have a problem with supporting you.” “Me,” I exclaimed insulted by the insolence. I was intrigued by the man’s courage. “And why per say is that,” the old man turned his head and shrugged, “I’m not going to say anything.” I waved my hand, “no, no, you can tell me…without fear of any retribution. You have my word.” “Oh your word is it,” the man crooned sarcastically. He turned down to his wife “did you hear that dear?” I growled, “I don’t have time for your games sir! I must bring these supplies to the front lines. My division is ordered to fight for Stalingrad.” I raised the microphone again, “and you have the privilege of giving to the Soviet Union.” The old man snorted, “Well it is certainly more than what you have given.” The microphone seemed to fall a little from my hands, “excuse me?” The man still showed no fear, “well what exactly have you given to the Soviet Union, nothing…and it’s not YOUR private division now is it? Everyone knows that the 23rd Guard’s Army belongs to Captain Iosif Popov, you’re no soldier. It’s only yours because Popov won’t go against the son of Stalin, no matter how disgraced he is. You’re not a Captain, nothing more then a child with a military set.” I felt an anger burning inside me, “we were not all born with the privileges you were. After all Yakov, what does Stalin’s son really have to worry about?”
I smiled and lied, “I am a man of my word and you have spoken your peace. I can assure you my love for the motherland would surpass all of yours. The sacrifices I have made, and the enemies I have killed have all been for the state.” I whistled loudly, “alright men take what we need and let’s get a move on.” The moment I had finished the men dispersed and it was like sending out a pack of wolves. The men entered each house as the people began to cry in protest. I watched an old lady clinging to one of my soldiers, “please that is the only food we have left!” I watched as the soldiers marched the few remaining horses, pigs, and goats into the small trucks. The old man yelled to me, “You’re a coward! You’ll kill this whole town!” I raised my hand feeling massively superior standing on the top of the IS-2 tank, “sir I warn you to precede with caution my generosity is being played thin.” “Your generosity, YOUR GENEROSITY…hey stay away from her,” a Russian soldier reached out and snatched the necklace from around his wife’s neck. “War has its price,” “this isn’t for war, this is thievery…you’re nothing but a common crook.”
I reached into my waist and pulled out my pistol turning it to the old man. My entire body seemed to shake with anger. I heard the woman scream as I let out three shots. The old man’s wife had jumped in front of her husband. He caught her in his hands just before she hit the ground. He stood whimpering over her body, “well I guess god has given you a second chance.” I laughed loudly as the last resources of the town were gathered and put into the truck. The man laid his dead wife down and glared up at me his face was filled with pure hatred “You’re a monster, a…a…butcher!” I guess I should have seen it coming. The old man retreated to his house as I yelled “alright good people of Bolkhov. Thank you for your many contributions and with your help I am sure that our motherland will…” Pop! Pop! I felt an excruciating pain in my shoulder as I fell backwards onto the hard steel of the tank. My pistol clattered from my hand. “Shots fired,” yelled a soldier, and soon every solider was shooting in various directions. People screamed and scurried, but they seemed hundreds of miles away.
I laid there gripping my shoulder as I felt the warm blood pour over my cold hands. “I’m dying,” I screamed feeling the panic swirl over me. Captain Popov made his way over to me yelling, “Get up sir!” I just stared wild eyed up at the sky yelling “oh my god I’m gunna die!” Popov shook his head, “you’re not going to die! You were shot in the shoulder,” my eyes widened “you mean I am not going to die?” Popov shook his head, “I have never seen a soldier die from a shoulder wound.” “Good,” I said with a growl. The few tears that exited my one good eye vanished as I grabbed my pistol. I rose from my spot and stared at my soldiers ransacking and raiding every house.
A few of the houses burned as the soldiers began to shoot women in the dirt. Popov yelled “sir you must stop this…you must let me give the order to,” “TO WHAT?” My voice boomed over the screams and yells as my teeth gritted in anger. He stared back at me, “but they are innocent…” I screamed back “they are traitors to my father and must be made an example of!” “T hese are innocent people that gave everything they had and you took everything out of greed!” He froze when my murderous look turned to him. “I will not have a traitor in my own army!” Popov turned red “this isn’t your army Stalin put me in command! Put me in charge to watch over you! Stalin hates you…the only reason why I ever listened to you was…” “Was because you know that I am Stalin’s son and no matter how much he hates me...nobody EVER crosses Stalin!”
Popov stared at me terror in his face as I continued, “But what Stalin doesn’t know is after the battle in Stalingrad I am taking these supplies and keeping them. When the Germans weaken my father’s army we will move in and take the capital, then the country. Soon, I will have the whole world bow before me!” Popov almost slipped off the tank, “you’re… you’re a monster, you’re nothing more than a blood thirsty killer...a butcher! I have to put a stop to this for Stalin and the motherland!” “TRAITOR,” I yelled as I reached into my belt and removed my knife. I had taken it from a hooker in a small town long ago. It was called, a knuckle knife and it was the only weapon I would ever need. I grabbed Popov’s shirt and smashed the brass knuckles into his face. His nose broke under my fist. I reached back and inserted the knife into his stomach. I made sure to cut along it, “You never had the stomach for what needed to be done!”
As Popov fell I snatched his pistol from the holster and with a swift kick I removed him from my tank. “Burn the village and kill every last traitor!” I watched a soldier grab a teenage boy and put a pistol to his head. “Wait comrade,” I called out as the soldier froze. “Bring him to me,” the soldier grabbed the boy’s shoulder and threw him in front of my tank. “Boy how would you like to join the world’s greatest fighting force,” mud covered the boy’s face as he sat tear soaked. He stared at all the soldiers and the bodies now lying dead in the mud. “I would…I…I,” he stared around even more and f inally said, “I would be...honored.” “Wonderful,” I yelled as the stinging increased in my right shoulder, “put him in the truck your training will begin shortly.” I pointed to the only remaining building and stomped on the top of the tank. “Take out that building there,” the barrel of the tank raised slightly and I covered my ears. I crouched low as the tank gave an enormous roar as the building shattered into a million pieces. I cackled loudly as I stood staring at the destruction of the simple village. “Alright men let’s pack it in and medic I need you in the tank.” I took my pistol and shot several of the people scared and surrendering. BAM…BAM…BAM…BAM just like that it happened. Every civilian took a shot, a single shot. I shot an old woman, I shot the man trembling under the hay, and I laughed as the tank turned. I reached into my coat pocket and took a grenade out but not just any grenade. One that was given to me by my father, it was filled with a newly discovered gas called Sarin. I pulled the pin and tossed it into the town. I laughed as we left the town in ruins. I was sure to carry this message not only to the battlefield but to my father as well.
The trees grew close as we made our way through the winding forest. The medic attended to my wound digging out the tiny slug. “Comrade,” yelled the tank driver, “what,” I cried through gritted teeth. “There is something blocking the road,” I felt the slug being ripped from my arm, “what…is…it?” “A large tree,” said the driver sounding confused. I heard a loud squeal as I said “do you hear…” I felt a large explosion hit the side of the tank. “The driver yelled “It’s an ambush!” I heard gun shots and the tank bellowed loudly as it seemed the war had come to us. “Return fire,” I yelled as the men in the tank began to load the gun again. Another soldier began to ascend the ladder and grabbed the mounted machine gun. After a couple shots the man fell through the hole as bullets littered his chest. I heard my men crying out in pain, one yelled “we must retreat!” “Get out of here,” I yelled but a clanging could be heard as I saw a small green object fall in the tank. I knew what it was immediately but I still took the distracted medic and threw the man on it. “What the hell are you doing Yakov,” and then I closed my eyes as I heard a loud BOOM. The body absorbed most of the explosion as blood covered the tank.
The tank immediately ran off the road and stopped suddenly. The driver must have received shrapnel, because a large piece of steel was caught in the back of his neck. I needed to get out of here as the smoke was making me choke. I emerged from the tank screaming at the top of my lungs covered in blood. I stared around at my diminished division. Their bodies lay scattered over the ground, even the little boy from Bolkhov. The few trucks and vehicles I had were all destroyed and unrecognizable. My slaughtered army was surrounded by a large German force. My dreams of conquering the capital were not meant to be.
(Present)
“Why is he staring at us like that,” said Ivan reaching into his pocket and removing a large cigar. Jombi gave him a look, “Ivan you know you shouldn’t be smoking that, what would your Mat say, rest her soul.” Shrugging Ivan lit up the cigar as he continued to stare at Yakov. “I am still not sure dad how old did you say he is again?” Jombi gave a wave, “approximately 98.”
(June 1, 1942)
A loud clapping erupted under a beautiful sunny sky. Ahead of me was the traditional bull’s eye target. There was a slight wind coming out of the west at a very slow speed. I focused both my eyes on the little yellow circle as the crowd grew silent. I stuck out my tongue as my fingers tingled on the bow string. I took aim at it and let out a big breath. My body felt limp and then…TWANG! The arrow flew through the air hitting the outer circle of the bull’s eye with a loud…CRACK ! The arrow sunk deep into the hay pile. The crowd cheered and even I couldn’t help but smirk, “damn, that’s a good shot.” Admittedly it wasn’t the best I could have done but surely a hard one to beat. I lowered the bow and crossed my hands over the top. I let the clapping envelope me into a sense of security.
It was now my opponents turn, he was an overweight man whose belly stuck out. It would surely get into the way of any competitive archer. He made his way up to the line as I took a couple steps back. I watched the man begin to set his arrow as