I hate Muslims. Muslims killed my wife, my son.
How do you sleep at night knowing the next morning you’ll walk into an OB/GYN wearing a vest strapped with C-4? How do you press that detonator after the woman next to you, eight months pregnant, allows you to touch her belly, feel her child’s strong kick, and tells you about her dream that he will become president of the United States, bringing peace and equality to our great nation?
Jessica was an optimist. I am not. Allah is the devil, the decrepit goblin, Rumpelstiltskin demanding the soul of the first born in exchange for 72 virgins in Hell.
Lying on a concrete rooftop, I aim my rifle at the front door of the building across the street. “They ain’t gettin’ out alive, staff sergeant,” I say into my radio.
The door opens. The first out is an infidel with his tail-wagging dog, and I’m reminded that I’ll never hear Junior beg me to give him a puppy for his birthday, or Christmas.
I pull the trigger.
word count: 175
Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers is a weekly challenge where you write a story in 75-175 using the provided photo prompt as inspiration. Click the froggy icon to read other stories inspired by the photo and add your own.