Wrong Time Wrong Place in Media Addiction

Throughout the story the theme that actions have serious consequences is evident. In the moment the sniper is ready and eager to shoot at the enemy. But after the moment is over, the sniper realizes just how awful his actions are.

I stood petrified. What had happened to me? My father had just been struck, in front of me, and I had not even blinked. I had watched and kept silent. Only yesterday, I would have dug my nails into this criminal's flesh. Had I changed that much? So fast? Remorse began to gnaw at me. All I could think was: I shall never forgive them for this.

There was no end to the force he exerted onto me. It was endless, it was pure turmoil to me. I was weak. The invasion was two years ago, but this proved I was still no stronger. I was still small, still weak, still less than my attacker. A part of me simply wanted to flee, like that day. I glanced backward, looking for an escape from him.

We packed the U-Haul truck to the roof with all our treasures acquired over the last twenty years living at the sea shore. As we pulled out of the driveway to begin our journey to Texas, my wife Susan wiped a tear from her eye.

I listened to the weapon’s high pitched tone lessen as it discharged behind me. It didn’t take long before I heard the familiar beep notifying me that the weapon was harmless once again. From what was standing before me in my doorway (at that particular moment), I was happy one part of my body could still function. although, breathing was necessary, what was between my ears was what had more importance for now. What was standing in front of me had instantly froze my feet in place, had widened my eyes as far as they could go, and stopped my heart. I didn’t know what to say, let alone what to do.

Gunshot. Fire. A blunt noise once the girl stumbled to the ground, red thick blood coming out of her neck at a quick pace, the smell of it coming like a storm towards Mildred’s nose. Iron, salt and the warmth of a recent alive body. The man stood with a gun pointing towards her, passive, like he had done nothing. His arm slowly returned to his side, the gun to his jacket. He turn left facing Mildred, in his face a big smile, but dark like he enjoyed death, enjoyed killing.

The semi-truck fired up, spilling out dark exhaust. I got in my car. I began to look at the interior closer. It was well used, the seats were torn and stained, the steering wheel flaked in my hand to reveal the foam beneath. A single key sat nicely on the center of the dashboard. I lay my gun against the passenger seat, the trigger facing towards me in case I needed to grab it in a hurry. I started the car up and rolled down the windows, allowing the air to flow through.

After we stopped and shut the truck off, we ever so slowly and quietly exited the truck, went around to the tailgate, grabbed the guns, the little camo backpack of gear, sprayed down, and we were on our way. Even walking out, I was filled with emotions and my mind raced. Excited, nervous, alert, noticing and picking out every little thing that moved or made a noise. The frost crunching under my boots, watching my breath crystalize right before my eyes, the tops of trees swaying back and forth in the gentle wind, as if waving to us. We get to the stand, an old, wooden box on stilts, and climb up. When we get situated, I pulled out my phone to check the time. Six forty-five. I mentally took note of this and knowing legal shooting hours started at seven twenty, I calculated how long before this day could become an amazing one. Thirty-five minutes. I sit there anxiously counting down the time. After a while, Dad taps the side of my leg three times, and instantly I know what he means before he points out in the darkness. I can hardly make out the outline of a deer slowly walking broadside from left to right at about eighty yards in an open area straight in front of us. This is the kind of darkness where you can see the outline of your hand in front of your face, but not the rest of it. I could see the deer out there only because of its relatively large size. I reached down and turned on my phone that sits on the ground next to my

“I’ll kill ya,” the words rattled my body and I felt my knees collapse beneath me. The Negro sprinted out and my father clomped in as fast as his drunken brain would allow him to move. At that moment, my perfectly orchestrated plan crashed into a million pieces. The anticipation I built up for a year transformed into shame and sheer terror. My father advanced upon me, and my face conceded to the impact of his fist. A tirade of bottled up anger flew out of his whiskey smelling mouth with phrases I would never repeat as long as I lived. Eventually fatigue triumphed over his punches, and he stumbled out of the room to chug down a bottle of whiskey.

Willsons body dropped to the ground while the ringing sound of the shot fired echoed in my ears. i stood there afraid and stunned. I had never seen someone get shot before. all i could do was look over his dying body while the blood came running out and started to surround my white vans . soon enough i was standing in pool of his blood feeling sick to my stomach on the verge of vomiting.

I tried to remember how to breathe, but I couldn’t. The sheer excitement was too overwhelming. My hands trembled with anticipation as I raised the gun carefully to aim at my otherwise oblivious target. I was filled with both glee and apprehension at the same time. What if I missed? Or worse, what if I hit my target, but didn’t kill it? I shook my head, determined not to miss. The safety off, the firearm aimed where I wanted, I lightly squeezed the trigger and, with an earsplitting bang, the gun went off.

Mint declared as he swung his blade against the enemy Silver. The young man jumped back, barely avoiding Mint's attack. The Silver collapsed on the hard earth as he struggled to get back on his feet. He felt a chill go up against his spine as he felt the tip of the blade lightly dance across his gray skin. An ocean of sweat ran down the attacker, taking deep breaths, the enemy Silver lifted his hands over his head. His eyes widened with fear as he looked up at the young man threatening to take his life away.

Within moments, one more male stepped in to the room, within his hands rested the head of a man I knew all too well. My Father 's decapitated head, at that moment I inherited a power with great extinct, one that knew pain and to lose someone close to you. "Y-You.. You bastards!" I’d Yell, with tears coming from my eye, something hit me, at that

When most people think of addiction, they think of crack heads and alcoholics. Although those are the most common types of addiction, there are also more unusual things. Addiction is a psychological and bodily dependence on a substance or practice which is beyond voluntary control. In a sense, every person has a form of addiction. Weather to caffeine, or food, or cleaning, they are all small kinds of addiction. One addiction that is spreading faster everyday and is gaining a lot of attention is media screen addiction. With technology in today’s day and age, communication and work can be done virtually anywhere in the world. With access to people at all times through the use of media

Watching me from afar. Who could be there? Behind me? The suspense was quickly building up and so was my fear. The fear to turn around and face whatever it is behind me. I only continued to get more and more filled with freight and the bad possibilities. I just couldn’t imagine the terror that awaited me once I turned around. My curiosity begged me to turn around and see what it was. If I’m going to die, I might as well see the killer. I built up the courage to turn around. I slowly turned around, and my heart completely stopped. The only thing I seen before getting impaled was a mask. After that, everything went black. I can’t believe my life is already coming to an end. “Why now? Why here? Why me? I can’t just die now. I haven’t lived very long at all.” I grabbed the weapon that impaled me and clenched my grip as hard as I could and jabbed as hard and fast as I could at the killer. I tried my best to defend myself and end this killers terror. I felt like the end was near. The killer was dead or was dying; they weren’t gonna bother me anymore, that’s all I knew. They were motionless on the floor. I quickly called 911 and tried my best to save myself. After I made the call everything went