Sharpshooter (A Supernatural Horror Novella.)

By Michael J. Elliott

David is more than just an angry young man, he's actually a psychopath. With no regard for anyone or anything than himself, David only lives for one thing-his beloved video games. When he discovers a game in an old second hand shop he's determined to find a way to own it, even if that means stealing or murder.
What David doesn't realise is that Sharpshooter is far more than just a game. Soon he will be plunged into a nightmare realm where he'll not only battle for survival, but his very soul as well.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Michael J. Elliott
• Release date: Aug 25, 2016
• ISBN: 9781310643392

Michael J. Elliott

Michael J. Elliott is an Australian author who has been writing since his early schooldays. His headmistress once described him as, "A second Alfred Hitchcock." He majored in Media Studies in College and wrote and directed short films, videos and radio ads. Michael has also written sketch comedy for Australian television. He lives in a bayside suburb in the State of Victoria. When not writing stories to chill readers he enjoys Golden Age Hollywood movies, reading, drawing, and cooking. He is also the illustrator for Claire Plaisted's series of childrens books, Girlie's Adventures. Michael is single but shares his life with his two cats, Charlie and Snaps.

Book preview

Sharpshooter

A Note To My Readers.

This short story contains descriptions of graphic violence and horror as well as coarse language. Reader discretion is advised. I am an Australian author, and as such, readers should be aware that Australian English, grammar, spelling and punctuation are used throughout this story.

Sharpshooter.

By Michael J. Elliott.

Cover Design By Johannus Steger/Steger Productions https://www.facebook.com/stegerproductions/?fref=ts

Edited by Christie Stratos/Proof Positive Editing Services http://www.proofpositivepro.com/

The first bullet entered the back of his head and splattered bloody cerebral matter on the concrete bunker wall he was facing. The soldier slumped to the ground.

Fuuuuucking ace! shouted David, raising his fist in a victory salute as he leapt off his bed.

On the television screen appeared the words ACHIEVEMENT EARNED, as well as a list of new items and an updated score. David quickly hit the save button on his game console and sat back down on his unmade bed. He swept his limp, oily fringe back. He was about to restart his game when the silence of the room was broken by a loud female voice emanating from the hallway.

Daaaavid, dinner.

David scowled at the doorway, as if his displeasure could somehow be telepathically transmitted to his mother in the hallway. In a minute, he shouted back.

Footsteps became louder as they approached David’s bedroom. His mother opened the door, illuminating part of the room. She quickly turned on the light. His mother, Lois, stood in the doorway, arms folded and looking like a short, overweight security guard.

Not in a minute, now.

David was blinking furiously, trying to adjust his eyesight to the intrusion of the bedroom light. I need to get to the next level first.

Lois was implacable. I’m not running a restaurant for your benefit. Dinner, now.

Lois surveyed the room with the eye of a prison guard searching for contraband. This room looks like an absolute brothel. Clean it up.

There was no denying Lois’ description. The room was littered with dirty clothes and chocolate bar wrappers. There was the strong odour of dirty socks and stale perspiration. David, being a typical teenage boy, was oblivious to the room’s untidy state and unpleasant smells.

Yeah, I’ll get round to it, David said belligerently.

Have it done by the time I get home from work tomorrow.

David glared at Lois as she left the bedroom. He removed the game disc from his console and then replaced it back in its cover. He went to the large wooden bookcase and slid the game into the empty space from where it had been taken. David had over two hundred games. Some he’d bought, others had been swapped with his friends, most had been stolen – not from stores; retailers were too smart to leave games in their covers. David had stolen most of his games through house breaking.

To say that David liked graphic games would be an understatement. He was addicted to them. Games were his crack cocaine and the game controller was his smoking pipe. He had no other hobbies or interests, hated reading – except for the gaming magazines he stole from various newsagents around Melbourne – and definitely wasn’t interested in sports.

David considered himself a bit of a game connoisseur. He was very selective about what he played. He had no interest in mindless car racing games or those poxy dragon and elf fantasies. He liked shooter games where he