The Hunter's Death

Reads: 40  | Likes: 0  | Shelves: 0  | Comments: 0

More Details
Status: Finished  |  Genre: Literary Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
This is a very sad and psychedelic story, but I hope you'll enjoy it!

Submitted: April 29, 2017

A A A | A A A

Submitted: April 29, 2017

A A A

A A A


THE HUNTER’S DEATH

 

He had a dream. It was visible by the constant changes in his face, shudders, several drops of sweat on the tip of his nose. If you would come in, see him, make conclusions, you would never be able to guess how crucial that dream was to him. It was sent by his destiny, it was his destiny. Just one destiny among billions of others. It wasn’t much different from the rest, being just as rotten as the others. If it has been a good one, everyone would just grow jealous, nothing more. If it has been a bad one, no one would sympathize. They would just thank the God it wasn’t their fate. If he has been awake, the only thing he would think about would be the thing he always thought about - how to quicker kill another deer, sell some of it, get a coin, buy something that would grant him living, eat, sleep, and start the same routine again. It allowed to live, so what else did he need? Nothing. But now he had a dream, and with such a dream in your head, thinking about the rotten living routines of this selfish world was extremely hard.

He was charging through a dark copse, his shotgun out. He didn’t know or understand the purpose of that, he wasn’t sure if that was him chasing another deer, running away from predators, or just having a morning warm up. Yet, he didn’t care at the moment. He just went on rushing through the wood, his mind blank. He lost the sense of time long ago. Anyway, why did it matter if he was running two hours, three days, or a month? A large part of life was still ahead, a part that won’t bring any happiness and joy, a completely useless part. The only thing that kept him to this world was fear of death. How funny, such a primitive instinct would influence people, who didn’t have anything to get here anyway.

He didn’t notice coming out at the bank of a frozen lake. His eyes slowly turned around the sight with a blank stare inside. On the top of the lake, two deers flowed around. Of course, in reality they were just sliding on the thin transparent ice, but the motion was so graceful, natural, and smooth, it seemed an unhurried flow of crystal pure water. Their coffee-colored fur glowed in the darkness under the light of the full moon and the fireflies. Those glowworms were hard to notice from the first look, as they perfectly harmonized with everything around, but a keen eye would see them everywhere - around the deers, on the branches of the trees, high up in the night sky. The whole picture created the feeling of Christmas. It would for anyone of us, but he didn’t know about Christmas. For him, it was just another usual day of life, when he could go to the market, kill a deer, or just sleep. Suddenly, he felt that he didn’t want to leave. In his rough, feelingless heart, someone turned the fire on. For now, it was weaker than a burning match, but he found himself seeing animals rather than walking pieces of meat. The shotgun quietly fell to the ground.

He didn’t want to leave more and more. It would be wrong to say he was happy, but fire inside him burned brighter and brighter. Childhood, thrown out decades ago, was coming back. After a while, it started to get inside his brain. Feelings, all of them, slowly came back. First came sorrow for the world. He really felt life, normal, joyful life, was over. He did know that before, but now the feelings came. It was fury. He wanted to kill, rip to pieces everyone who made the world what it was now. Meanwhile, optimism came. With it - the belief that everything can be saved, happiness, joy, trusting would be returned. He was becoming a human again. The deers went on sliding faster and faster.

But all dreams have an end. So did this one. How much I wish more dreams like that would visit people nowadays! Then, there would be at least some hope… Hope… What a funny word. Perhaps, we can already erase it from the dictionary. It’s now useless.

He woke up in cold sweat. Till the last moment, all of his existence was inside that dream. Now, he was back to the world, the world he knew, in which he lived for the whole of his life. Yet, he was doing the last attempts to hold on to the dream. He spent only one night, one ten thousandth of his life there, but his rotten soul needed it more then the whole rest of his life. Now, it was refreshed. Fire inside his heart burned brightly, as brightly as it did when he was born.

With the fire, with the optimism, came guilt. He slowly raised his eyes, and saw the fresh corpse of a deer. His mind refused to believe he killed it just yesterday’s evening. There was an uncomfortable feeling in his stomach growing worse and worse every second he looked at the horrible sight. He went out for a small walk.

While he walked, the dream spinned all around his head faster and faster. It switched with the sight of the dead deer, its eyes, where the fire of life was continuing to burn. In such a creature that fire would never fade, regardless of the amount of centuries passed since its death. His fire, though, was dying very quickly. Guilt ate him out from the inside like bile. It started to smell with sea. He closed his eyes. Prayers didn’t want to come out of his dried mouth. Suddenly, he didn’t feel solid ground under his foot. After a moment, everything started to flash like a blockbuster. He opened his eyes just to see the water closing in. Loud crash. Darkness. Cold liquid inside the lungs. Pain.

 


© Copyright 2017 Solaire. All rights reserved.

Add Your Comments:

More Literary Fiction Short Stories

Booksie 2017-2018 Short Story Contest

Booksie Popular Content

Other Content by Solaire

A Dragon Slayer from a Forest

Short Story / Fantasy

The Blood of Innocent

Short Story / Fantasy

The Monster of the Ruins

Short Story / Fantasy