Click goes the sound of the bolt, preparing death to move.
I carefully, oh so carefully put the butt of the gun against my shoulder, noticing every little detail, making sure that everything I notice is perfect.
Thhhrct goes the sound of the bolt, moving the other way now, going back home, mating again with its plastic and metal counterpart, lover- the part that notices it.
Squeak, squeak go the knobs of the dial, ever so quietly, as I carefully adjust the sight. A titch up, a titch over. I notice these things. And noticing them makes them perfect.
Click goes the trigger. I notice it, in the one instant before it fires, as it goes past the point of no return. Just like me. I notice it, but nobody notices me.
BANG goes the rifle, and one more person who never noticed.
BANG goes the door as it flies open.
SMASH goes the door as it hits the wall.
Clink goes my cartridge as it hits the ground, missing so much in its flight.
Squeak and scuff go the ever so shiny boots of the police man as he runs into the room. I always notice the boots.
“You noticed me.”
Whoosh goes the gun softly as it flies up through the air.
Click goes the trigger, past the point of no return.
Like me.
Like him.
BANG goes the gun, shooting a bullet.
Whiz goes the bullet, right by my ear.
Fwoosh goes my hair, moving in the breeze.
Clink goes the cartridge, falling to the ground.
Drip goes the blood, dropping to the floor.
Warm.
Wet.
Smelly.
Tink goes the cartridge as it rolls into mine. Two brass lovers, noticing each other.
“I noticed.”
Squeak, scuff go my shoes as I turn and run out the door.
Drip goes the tears.
Drip goes the blood.
Drip, faintly, goes the tears.
**
[A/N: this story is experimental. I didn't mess with names, I didn't mess really characters. I just had a purpose that I wanted to write something about noticing people and the effects of attention, and a vague idea that I wanted to experiment with sound, and this is what happened. Wrote several months ago.]
