Chapter 6 - Reds

This is something I have to get off my chest.

Maybe it will help someone. I'm hoping it will help me.

Reds is a shooting range in Pflugerville, Texas. I somehow find myself passing it often now that I'm "free."

I've been on the range before. I've shot usually a Gloc 9 millimeter.

I see myself in this vision: I go in the door from the parking lot. I purchase time on the range and ammo. I see myself talking to the proprietors of the range. We joke briefly.

I get my ear protection; adjust my glasses and head on the range.

I mount my target and send it via the automatic pulley down range.

I load my weapon, careful to point the muzzle at all times down range.

I release the safety, lifting the weapon, aligning the front and rear sights. I practice "BRASS": breath, relax, aim, slack (the trigger finger), squeeze (the trigger finger). Repeat.

I pull the target back up range. I inspect it to adjust my aim and possibly my sights from the shot group.

I send my target via the automatic pulley down range.

I load my weapon, careful to point the muzzle at all times down range.

I release the safety, lifting the weapon, aligning the front and rear sights. I practice "BRASS": breath, relax, aim, slack (the trigger finger), squeeze (the trigger finger).

My universe is crimson - the gray of the range is replaced by a space of blood. My head erupts into molten lava as the smell of sulfur invades my olfactory. I fall.

I practiced "BRASS": breath, relax, aim, slack (the trigger finger), squeeze (the trigger finger). No one suspected until they have to call EMS. Too late.

I always awake from the vision with a bolt of consciousness. Lately, the visions have been during the day... as I drive past the range.

I wish I could say this was an "April Fools" joke. I hope it helps someone. I hope it helps me.