A Beautiful MindA Beautiful Mind
I had known exactly where her father had kept his hunting rifle. The rifle my sweet, talented sister never touched. The rifle my wonderful, perfect mother never looked at directly. The rifle I had revered. My father had kept it on top of the highest shelf of the tallest bookcase in the house. It had a clip up there that only he being the tallest in the family could reach. The rifle was never to be used for house defense. There was the small handgun that rested inside my mother's bedside table for things like that. Never loaded. The clips were kept separately inside my father's bedside table. That had always struck me as odd. Although, I had never really liked that gun anyway. It was far too small. Far too... powerless.
The hunting rifle, however... That was a gun. That was powerful. I felt its presence. Whenever I passed the bookcase, I would get shivers.
My sweet, talented sister and my wonderful, perfect mother did not feel the power of the rifle. They