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Snapshots From the Mind of a Soul Collector
Prologue
I was dropped in the jungle on April 9, 1965 to begin my second tour of duty in another war that would come to be known as only a conflict. My first tour of duty, I was drafted. United States Marine Corps if you want to be exact. The first year was as regular grunt infantry, but my amazing accuracy, and certain death shots got me drafted into something else…
I can’t escape this hell… So many times I’ve tried… But I’m still caged inside. Somebody get me through this nightmare… I can’t control myself…So what if you can see, the darkest side of me…No one will ever change this animal I have become… Help me believe, its not the real me… Somebody help me to tame this animal… This animal…This animal.
That second tour of duty I returned not as a grunt, but as a living breathing soul collector, a United States Marine Corps sniper. I learned fast that life is short. You should live while you have the chance, because you never quite know when your bullet is going to come. I often thought about that moments before a kill. Maybe, for a split second out of the corner of their eye, my target thought they saw something crawling in the jungle. Maybe they saw the glint off of my scope, but before their life could even flash before their eyes their skulls were just a couple of splinters suspended in a cloud of pink mist. And their entire existence is just another notch on my helmet, next to my ace of spades.
I can’t escape myself, so many times I’ve lied…But there’s still rage inside… Somebody get me through this nightmare… I can’t control myself…So what if you can see, the darkest side of me… No one will ever change this animal that I have become. Help me believe, its not the real me…Somebody help me tame this animal. Somebody help me through this nightmare…I can’t control myself… Somebody wake me from this nightmare, I can’t escape this hell…
My name is Sgt. Richard Alexander Matthew Fischer, and I’m back motherfuckers…. But it don’t mean a thing.
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