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The Hazel Left Eye *warning this story contains vivid graphic imagery, you have been warned*

      I jammed! I jammed on him just when he needed me most! One of those people he called "gook" ran up to him with grenades strapped to him with grenades strapped to its' chest and just as he tried to fire me, I jammed! Finally! I can rid myself of this disgusting man, who held me with his diseased hands, who used me for vile, despicable acts! This creature of infinite corruption, this deluded youth who lost itself in war, this-- man. I remember when he first used me to kill, it was a human child, although, he called the child "gook abomination".

    The boy, possessing only a shirt and a makeshift diaper of sorts, looked at my owner and asked "Me toi?" or in English "Where's my mommy?". Unaware its' mother was raped and killed by the other men in my owner's squad. The boy repeated this line, and my owner knowing these words from villages past, tells the boy "Shut the hell up you dirty gook!". The eyes of this "gook" are similar to my owner's son's eyes, both of these boys eyes were hazel. I say "were" because my owner snaps, he takes me into shooting stance that he learned during basic an this bastard man fires into each of the "gook" child's eyes, once cleanly in the right eye. The left eye was not as lucky, as the boy fell in pain from the first shot, the bullet headed through the child's jaw, shattering teeth and sending bits of mouth flying, eventually reaching the other eye socket and popping out the eye. 

   My owner bent over and picked up the eye, looked at it as if it is a toy, and put it in his pack. The aftermath of this scene is, and forever will be, devastating on anyone who looked, small teeth and brain matter of an infant scattered around the boy's body, a body that only had half a jaw, the other half was impossible to discern from the floor (if there were any pieces of that half left). The boy's last words as he lay on the floor with half a jaw, with blood choking him, was "Mommy" in broken English. My owner shot the boy again with me, right in his heart to end the boy's life as quickly as possible.

  Now, my owner is scattered about, not just brains and teeth, whole limbs separated and laying here. Here I am with part of his arm in this bush, one finger of his still on my trigger and the boy's left eye near the end of my barrel. If only I could unjam now and shoot, the eye is looking at me like it is my fault. MY FAULT! I was only doing what I was made to do! I should not be the one judged by the hazel left eye.







Original Story by Dalton Helms



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