mosinwritefag

The year now, 2018. War had broken out- a civil war. Class warfare, whatever you want to call it. I do not know the word in your language. This is not a revolution- senseless violence over the color of your skin. Disgusting, senseless violence.

Myshka, when I first was created I did not want to fight. But I am a rifle. I had no choice. It was my sole reason for existing. As my first wielder marched out to the battlefield, to push back the fascists he was terrified. There is no illusion about that. But he fought anyway. For it was the best decision for the man at his right, and at his left.

That is bravery.

Then when he fell to a sniper's fire, his comrade picked me up and used me as I was intended. His hands were rough, strong- determined. They were the hands of a soldier. Then he died. I cried. I knelt at his side and cried, hoping he was not truly dead. I felt a piece of shrapnel rip into my side- and then the sting of a hand.

The man who struck me said rifle was to stay rifle. Man was to stay man. One who was both was abomination. So I became rifle again and waited. Next to his body.

Myshka, I could feel him grow cold in the snow.

The next man to pick me up stabbed my bayonet into the stomach of a German two weeks later. Many rounds were fired. My life had a purpose.

As he fell and I was given over to the next man, he... Was terrible. By force of gun he pillaged, took what he wanted. Was disgusting. But he was killed quickly.

By this point, war was over. So out of the hands of soldiers I went. Covered in grease, choking but protective like enbalming. Then into a case I went for... So long. So many years. I do not know.
Then I was pulled out of case years ago. Recently. I went onto a rack at sporting goods store. Many people saw me. Considered me. Nobody cared for me. Everyone passed me over as they saw the newer firearms next to me, with their fancy scope.

But you saw me. You were young, skinny, bedraggled. But you were happy when you held me.

When your hand grasped my bolt and pulled my action open, I felt no shame. For with you, I was whole. With me, you were whole.

You took me home, you cleansed me of that disgusting cosmoline- preserving yes, but disgusting nonetheless. You learned me, you shot me and you mastered me. You cared for me.

You knew nothing of those like me. So I did not present myself to you. Not until there was no other choice. You were still a boy then. You are still young child to me. Even as scars, traumas accumulate, wrinkles crease your skin. You will always be myshka to me.

Of course, this is my own view. I know you are man now. Stronger, smarter than you were. Emotionally and physically. You are good.

I know I am not of use to you as I am now, myshka. Your tears when you cried into my receiver. When you lost fiancée. When you lost job, you always held onto me like I was family. I guess I was.

I know you tried to fix. Electrolysis, chemicals to dissolve the rust. But it wouldn’t stop… There’s enough metal to where I am safe to fire, currently. But I am not weapon of combat anymore. Maybe. You mentioned trying drilling out the spot and welding more material on to strengthen. Is not good idea. But it is worth trying later.

But for now, is not worth thinking about. Am simply range toy. Collector’s item- relic of past until my life ends. But you never got rid of me. Always held me. Always cared for me. Re-checked I was still in good condition.

But you have Kay, as you named her. That American rifle- M1A, yes? I have spoken to her. She is good person. Good rifle. You know her well. Can shoot her well. Will serve you well many years.

But as you put your carrier on, grab her sling. I can tell these years will probably only be hours. You will do what you always did. The necessary thing. Not right thing.

You’re getting your pack closed up. I will wait for you. Fires do not come near your house. You are fighting to keep it away from here. From where you grew up.

If you don’t come back, someone will find me. Care for me like you did. I will protect them, like I did you. But I doubt they will treat me as you did.

I love you. Please come back.