#doodle beans

It was another day in the apocalyptic world. The sun shone down upon the destroyed city, casting a bleak light over everything. The air was thick with smoke and the stench of decay, yet the survivors of this world have become numb to these horrors. Today, however, held a different excitement for you. 

Today, you were going to learn how to shoot a gun.

Yes, while you should have learned how to shoot a gun due to the harsh world they lived in, it was not until now that you would finally receive proper instructions. The journey to becoming a competent gunner was about to begin, and they could feel your heart with anticipation. As you made your way through the ruins of the city, you could hear distant gunshots, a reminder of the dangerous world you inhabited.

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The training area was tucked away behind a row of dilapidated buildings, secluded from the main roadways. The trainer, Abby, greeted you with a stern expression and a firm handshake. She was a seasoned survivor, her muscles proved that. 

“You’re here to learn how to shoot, I presume?” she said, sizing you up. 

You nodded, your heart pounding in your chest. Abby gestured for you to follow her, leading you towards a makeshift shooting range. 

The shooting range consisted of five different targets placed at varying distances, each one representing a possible threat in the world. Abby handed you a gun, its cold steel making you feel slightly uneasy. The weight of the gun made you think twice about this.

“We’re going to start with the basics,” she said, her voice matter-of-fact. “You’ll need to learn how to hold the gun correctly and how to aim. You must always be aware that your life depends on hitting our target.”

Abby started by showing you the proper stance, demonstrating how to hold the gun with both hands, her body in a stable position. “It’s important to keep your shoulders squared and your feet shoulder-width apart,” she instructed. “You don’t want your shots to be off-center.”

Then she showed you the correct grp, explaining the importance of keeping your trigger finger straight and the other fingers wrapped firmly around the grip. “Your grip should be secure, but not too tight. You don’t want to tense up and shake when you’re aiming.”

As you started to aim at the targets, you could feel your heart rate increase. “Take a deep breath,” Abby reminded you. “Your adrenaline will try to take over, but you need to stay focused.” You took a deep breath, your hands shaking slightly as you aimed the gun. Abby stood behind you, watching closely. “Now squeeze the trigger slowly,” she said. “Don’t jerk your hand. Just press it steadily and smoothly.”

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The first few shots were wide of the mark. You missed the target, your shots landing on the edges. Abby remained calm, offering guidance and correction. “Don’t worry if you miss at first,” she reassured you. “It takes practice and patience.” 

You took a moment to adjust your stance and aim again, your breathing still slightly ragged from the initial adrenaline. 

Abby observed as you continued to fire shots, most of them missing their mark. “You’re tensing up too much,” Abby said, her voice stern but patient. “Relax your shoulders and take a slow breath.”

You tried your best to loosen your muscles and calm your nerves, but your hands still shook slightly. It was difficult not to feel frustrated with each missed shot.

Abby noticed that you were still struggling, she moved behind you placing her hands on your shoulders. Her touch was firm, a grounding presence in the midst of your trembling. “Take another deep breath,” she instructed, her voice steady. “Now, I’m going to position your body a bit differently.”

Abby moves to the side, adjusting your stance, shifting your weight. “Let me move your legs a bit wider apart,” she said. She pushed at your legs, nudging them into a stance that felt more stable. With her left hand still on your shoulder, her right hand slid down to your wrist, guiding your aim. “Keep your elbow tucked in and your wrist straight.”

You found yourself flustered by Abby’s proximity and the intimate touch. Her hands on your body, guiding and adjusting, sent a wave of heat through your body. You could feel your heartbeat quicken, your breathing becoming shallower. As Abby guided your wrist and arm, her grip firm but gentle, you tried to focus on your aim, but your mind felt hazy.

Despite the focus on your aim, your thoughts were constantly pulled back to Abby’s touch. It was difficult to ignore the sensation of her hands on you, the warmth of her presence behind you. You caught a faint scent of her, subtle but intoxicating. It made it even more challenging to concentrate. 

“You’re tensing up again,” Abby said, her voice breaking through your thoughts. Her hand gently squeezed your arm, a silent reminder to focus. You took a shaky breath, trying to push away the distractions, yet you could still feel the faintest hint of a shiver run down your spine, as Abby’s breath brushed against the back of your neck.

It was increasingly difficult to keep a clear head with Abby so close, each correction and touch only added to your flustered state. Your heart raced, and your thoughts were in disarray. You could feel your cheeks growing warm, and you hoped Abby wouldn’t notice your flushed complexion.

Abby, perceptive as ever, noticed your increasing flustered state. She could see the slight tremors in your hands, and she could sense your focus slipping. She decided to give you a brief break.

“Take a few minutes to catch your breath,” she said, withdrawing her hands from your body. “You’re tense, and you won’t be able to aim properly if you’re this distracted.”

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