The Hunted

February 25, 2009
By John Zanazzi BRONZE, Mesa, Arizona
John Zanazzi BRONZE, Mesa, Arizona
1 article 0 photos 0 comments

It is a brisk winter morning, the snow caps the pines, and a smooth, white blanket covers the forest floor. A bluff sits near an edge, with a thin slit peering out. A man sits comfortably in a folding chair in the bluff, wearing many layers of padded hunting clothes, and a bright orange vest. Next to him lays his trusty companion, a high velocity rifle. Sipping coffee, he sees something that sparks his interest. He quickly puts down his beverage and picks up his rifle to look through the scope. Peering through the trees, he sees the entire reason for his being here. A figure of a brown deer appears in the cross hairs of his scope. Excited, he takes careful aim, squeezes the trigger, and the bullet whizzes across the woods. Through his scope, he can see his target fall to the ground. Ecstatic, he exits the bluff and hurriedly makes his way to his prize. Once he gets there, however, he is puzzled. There is no blood on the snowy ground. He takes a closer look at the bullet hole, sticks his finger in, and discovers the contents are not gore, but stuffing! Dumbfounded, he stands up and looks around completely confused. All of a sudden, a sharp CRACK! breaks the silent wilderness. The hunter falls to the ground.


The author's comments:
I am a vegetarian, but I did not write this piece as sort of poetic justice or vengance, I did it for the sake of simply changing perspective.

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