Markham Park Shooting Range: A Short Story

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“Thud!” The car door slams shut, with me inside the vehicle. The engine revved as my dad and I pulled away from James S. Rickards Middle School. As we got on Interstate 95 we were disappointed as it was the peak of Monday afternoon rush hour traffic. Nevertheless my imagination still swirling as it was my first time traveling to this destination. The destination was Markham Park Shooting Range. As the car ride took about an hour, that alone gave enough time for my excitement to bloom. When we arrived and got out of the vehicle, the sounds of constant bangs from the police shooting range next door with a few chirps from the startled birds littered the air.
We got to the range and stacks of paperwork awaited our signatures. He had to check my height, and made sure which gun was the best suited for my person. The instructor also determined which eye is dominant through a test. Once
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He instructed each one of us how to hold the shotgun with the muzzle down on the ground. One by one the instructor would put a shell into the chamber. My ears were satisfied with the click of the gun confirming it is in. Only one shotgun was loaded at one time for student safety. Once loaded, he instructed us to get into the firing position one by one. I was then receiving goosebumps as the cold metal stock touched my cheek. As my earplugs and glasses were already in place, he told me when I am ready, to say “ PULL”. Following that I did and simultaneously a fluorescent orange disk flew out of the ground. The second it shot out my gun followed the disk until it was right on top and then “BAM!” I look to see bits of orange flying. It was a direct hit on my first try. The instructor helped me reload the gun and I brought the gun back up to my cheek to take another shot. “PULL” muttered from my lips and seconds later a bang followed with another shattered disk. Two shots in a row ended up with shattered

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