Colors Of War

131 Pages 32767 Words

“Colors of a War”

Thick layers of golden-white fog smothered the mesquite trees encircling Jp and Chris. It was only around 5:30 A.M. and the tip of the sun was rising over the mountains that trapped the endless view of farmland and small cities making up the large area. Summer had just emerged through spring at the end of ninth grade for the two. It was their forever-been opponent, Dave Griffon’s birthday. The time had come for them to show Dave how grateful they are that it’s his birthday in their own special way.
A crackling sound rang through Chris’ ear from the headset he was wearing. It was how everyone who plays paintball interacts in the area, even the people on the north side had them, but more advanced types. Jp’s voice came through the sound, “We aren’t far from his house now. I’m already going down the hill in front of his house, climb that tree to your right and find a sniping spot.”
Chris looked beside him and couldn’t make out much of anything through the fog. After staring blindly and inching closer, slowly, he reached out with his left hand; right hand clutching his sniper paintball gun. It used paintballs half the size of standard ones, to excel their trajectory and have a faster arrival. He felt the base of a more-over young oak tree. That resulted in the fact that they were out of the paintball field. He had seen it before and knew its anatomy, he slung his gun over his shoulder with the strap that clung to it.
Chris reached up with his right hand and held a branch, half-palm width firmly. Then picked up his right leg and stuck it onto a stump that had been a branch, trimmed from the base. He pulled and pushed then stepped onto the sapling he had held. After reaching that checkpoint, Chris scaled to the tallest point of the tree he could, without stepping on a weak and younger branch. He had to hold onto it with both, his feet and hands; then got the courage to stand straight up and l...