Inklings 2020

Before I can move, he unloads a whole round across my body as I fall in pain. It feels like I’ve been stung by a bee ten times. The area protected by the vest is more bearable, but the arms and the legs are not. All this happens in a split second. I let out a swear word and crawl back up, as the pain recedes. Now, I realize that the paint isn’t the problem. It’s the pain. Round two. It’s time for a bloodbath. I sprint straight to the shed, but two other kids already have the same idea. I get my chance and fire bullets across their area as they leap to the ground. Their cover is splattered with paint. I take aim again, but one enemy is faster. He springs up and starts blasting. Most of the bullets miss, yet one hits me in the arm. This one hurts more than usual, and that’s because it doesn’t explode. The rule is that if a bullet hits and doesn’t burst, it does not count as a kill. I spring back up and shoot, narrowly missing one of their heads. Both of them come up, and all three of us are exposed. Bullets fly across the arena as we try to blast each other to kingdom come. One enemy down. It’s one versus one now. I get back up, but before I see the enemy, my entire field of view becomes a red splatter. I get jolted backward and can barely see. I raise my hands, walk to where I think the exit is, and take my mask off. My visor is covered in paint, and I realize that the mask probably saved my life. The other kids have a good laugh. Three more rounds and I’m a hardened veteran. Almost five kills. Now, I kind of know what it feels like to be in a war. It’s slow, stressful, and painful. It isn’t like in movies or in video games. But I’d take paintball over real war any day. After the party ends, my parents ask how it was. I have small bruises over my legs and arms, my shirt is dirty with paint, and I’m sweaty. “That was fun. I’d do it again. Now, I gotta take a shower.” And I did do it again, but that’s another story.