The Bear

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The leaves made a pleasant crunching sound under a pair of heavy boots, making the trek up a steep mountain. The Hunter who wore those boots had an angry look to him, eyes slanted downwards in focus, several keys and duck calls clinking and clanking on his waist. His gun lay comfortably in his hands like a sleeping dragon, ready to awake and belch flame and destruction upon the forest.  The Hunter swiped at low-hanging branches that slapped him in the face, as he trudged upwards.


The hunter came across a body of water.


The brook was slow and peaceful; the water made a lapping noise against the gravel and stone of the dirt surrounding it, and The Hunter could see fish swimming around in the pool of all colors, yellow, red, brown, a true kaleidoscope of the rainbow underwater. The Hunter dipped his hand in, and took a drink. The Hunter saw his reflection in the glassy water. Unshaven, black hair swept down from his forehead to his chin, and several scars littered his face. His camouflage jacket still had a tar- black cigar burn on it from many years ago, before he ran out of cigars in the wilderness. The Hunter stood up and continued on.


The Gun was his only friend- his only ally. He had had it for as long as he could remember, almost as if he was birthed with the sleek, slender firearm into his hand, as if he was born a hunter, a killer, a thief of life. The brook became a distant memory after a few more hours of walking. The Hunter found some berries, and picked them. Tentatively, he ate one. Not feeling any repercussions, he ate the whole bunch and continued on his trek.


The Bear sat there, as if it were planted. The great big brown lump of pure muscle just sat there, dipping its head into the dirt and eating the grass off the ground.

 

The Hunter could see it through his scope. His finger was on the trigger as The Bear stood there. The hunter fired.


A great sound like a large clap of thunder infected the perfect silence of the evening as The Bear sprung to attention, just as a leaping bullet collided with his stomach.


The Bear roared a pained roar, and fell down. The Hunter reloaded, and rushed to a closer spot.  The Bear’s neck swiveled around searching for the result of the pain. The Hunter lifted the gun once more. The Bear saw the faint glitter of light as the glass of the scope refracted the sun. The Hunter pulled the trigger, as the gun screamed and shouted and belched. The Bear ran at The Hunter, ignoring the fresh searing pain of the new bullet that landed near his leg. The Hunter scrambled up out of the muddy bush that was his cover and ran, The Bear in close pursuit. The Bear chased- chased- and finally caught up with The Hunter. The Hunter, expecting death, braced.


The Bear jumped, mouth foaming with pure rage and claws sharpened like knives and-
Became one with The Hunter. 


The Hunter opened his eyes. No bear. Swiveled his eyes to the left- no bear. To the right- no bear. He stood up, expertly considering his environment.


Something was off..


He could feel it. He could feel it. Inside him, something was taking hold of the last few synapses of his brain clinging to his sanity. His head pounded, pounded, pounded.


Stopped.


He felt nothing.


His eyes were blank, alive but nothing was going on behind them, dead.


The urge to kill enveloped his whole body as he yelled and screamed and yelled and screamed and yelled and screamed, tearing his vocal cords.


He was not human. Not anymore.


He was, but he wasn’t. He had became one with the wild, he had to survive here, this was his home, he couldn’t go back to the city, no he didn’t want to, he couldn’t, he couldn’t ever.

 

The leaves made a pleasant crunching sound under a pair of heavy boots, making the trek down a steep mountain. Into his new life as an animal.

 

Meaning: The Bear symbolized his wild side, his insanity that was forced upon him. The Hunter had lived in the wild for so long, but barely able to stay sane.






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