The Hunt

I closed my eyes, smelling the humid air which drowned me from all sides. Across twenty metres of soft rain the smell of burning wood radiated from a yet-cold fire; an indication that the sport had begun. A flash of lightning blinked through my eyelids, and I opened them to rejoice with the vision of a pack of bloodthirsty hounds eager to rip the throat of the animal released, waiting tied to my left hand. The game of what it meant to be human had then begun, and little could stop it now. Especially not when there were things to slaughter.

I proceeded forwards, oblivious of the few raindrops which distorted my vision and hindered my progress. A rifle fitted snugly into my right hand, and it felt so much a part of me that I was doubtful whether I would ever be willing to part with the power it lent me. I wasted no time in worthless hesitation, instead signalling the hounds to lead me towards the prey. They sprung forwards, accepting me as their master. The rate at which they forced me into a run was not a gradual ascent, but happened to consist of a brutal heave which almost dislocated my left arm. Soon I found myself deeper in the forest, using all the energy which I was able to gather in order to propel myself throughout the trees in pursuit of the loathsome beasts. While my left hand felt numb and was pulled forward with impressive force, my right was clutching at the malevolent invention in a vain attempt to keep the weapon pointing upwards as I leaped through the roots which lay uncovered upon the moist soil. Only now have I realized that the unfavourable weather was in fact the menacing birth of a storm, but the dead howl of the wind sounded like music to my ears and I refused to fear it.

Suddenly the velocity of the hounds shifted, increasing in speed and tilting approximately twenty degrees clockwise. I took it as an indication that a scent had been discovered. As though to approve my calculating mind, the bloodthirsty things roared with the rage of an eternal hunger for life. The animals ignored the cold, showering rain which was now attacking us from the heavens, but for me the moisture served as an aid to ignore my creeping fatigue. All of my six senses felt intensified with every individual droplet which hit my brow, and I could not help but feel to be the perfect killing machine on the hunt for its first unfortunate victim. With the furnace of doom beating within my chest, roaring with power and life, I could do anything.

Finally, perhaps after twenty minutes of relentless running, the black forestry gave way to a wide yellow field visible below me, tempting my soul to scream with exhilaration from what I saw.

I did not notice the sickly yellow corn growing in the wide field, nor did I realize how sinister the black sky contrasted with the landscape. What my attention was fixed upon happened to be the unsuspecting deer standing two hundred metres in front of me. Thankfully the animal ignored the deafening roar of the hounds, and I wasted no precious second as I adjusted my weapon in a furious attempt to aim. After aligning the sights for maximum lethality and directing the rifle towards the deer, I held my breath before I pulled on the unforgiving trigger.

A moment of absolute silence was preceeded by a harsh explosion, distressing and yet calming my conscious mind. The recoil of the explosion forced me to look upwards, and when my eyes descended back towards the approximate altitude of the animal, it was not visible among the vast field of corn. This made a smile creep upon my face, and I cared not to kill it off. Although the water blocking my vision did not allow me the luxury if certainty, I knew that I have proven to be superior over the rest of the hunters somewhere behind me. I was the master of the deer's life, and I have decided to take it.

My legs carried me towards the scene of death, but with the hounds 'now silent- pulling at my arm all I was visually aware of was the seemingly endless line of corn speding past my field of vision, making me nauseated to a certain extent. In no more than five minutes did I find myself standing within the depths of the vomit-coloured field in a hasty search for the deceased animal. The dogs reined to my hand extended their silence, with eyes straining in a desperate search for the deer. Distant thunder hammered at the surrounding air, allowing my nervousness to multiply with every passing minute of the search. The fallen deer was nowhere in sight. Indeed the corn did obstruct my vision, but, in the end, it was insufficient to stop me from finding my reward.

It was after twenty minutes of the desperate search when I began to realize that perhaps the animal was not dead after all. It was possible for a wounded deer to limp to safety after being shot, but that would leave obvious tracks. Could it all have been one simple hallucination? The final insanity which devoured so many of the humans before their deaths? Whatever it was, I was inclined to prove it false.

To my immediate shock one of the hounds emmited a loud bark, and I turned in time to see an area in the field with the corn stamped to the ground a mere twenty metres away from me, previously occluded by the high expanse of growing produce. Immediately I rushed towards the sighting, but all only to find an object which I did not rationally expect. The hounds snarled, but kept their distance.

On the ground lay the skin of the deer I previously saw, but skin was all it was. No blood was present, but rather a clean cut along the back which could hardly have been done in a more elaborate fashion. The inside of the thing looked as though nothing had ever been attached to it, giving the skin an overall resemblance to a pelt which I would have imagined to find in some hunter's cabin.

I tore my gaze from what I supposed to be a prank -as only syrgery could explain the presence of such a thing- and was met by a dull pain at the back of my neck before absolute darkness. I never saw through my eyes again.

I realize now that the event was nothing more but my own fault. I have dangerously relied on what we were taught about reality without giving any heed to the rumours. Such subjects were not taught until another century after my death, and it required many more casualties such as me in order for people to realize that what was happening around them. Such possibilities were rarely discussed, and mostly only in fiction. But despite my current speech, I need to declare that I have learned something new since the event: I never wanted the deer; no one ever does. All we want is to experience the glory of capturing the animal. Perhaps I was not alone in that.