The Chase (Nov2013)

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posted on Nov, 9 2013 @ 02:58 AM
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The rain started a little while ago. At first, I was glad for what little cover it offered but that quickly turned to dismay. It’s harder to gain traction on the leaf strewn ground, and our pursuer is still close behind. Why doesn’t he just give up?

Looking over my right shoulder, I’m somewhat reassured that my young son is keeping up. I agreed to this outing against my better judgment, but he was so excited by the green sprouts of spring. It was impossible for me to say no. It used to be safe to go where we wanted when I was his age, but things have changed.

His father should be the one to take him on this trail, but he’s been gone for almost a year now. After his death, I swore that I wouldn’t let the same thing happen to our child. How could I have been so foolish? We had unknowingly wandered into the ‘dead zone’. An area occupied by killers who don’t hesitate to slaughter anyone they come across.

A shot rings out through the woods, passing near my head. Screaming, I nearly fall as splinters erupt from a tree just ahead of me. Spurred on by fear, I push at my son and we slide around the next bend in the trail. I see the flash of orange stepping out in front of us, but it’s too late. I do the only thing possible, throwing myself towards the rifle being leveled at him.

Of course there are two of them , I think as the shot rips into me, surprised at how little pain there is. We should have gotten off the trail a long time ago, but instead I followed my instinct. Out here though, that gets you killed. Shoving now in the other direction, my momentum carries me and my child over a fallen tree and down a steep embankment. I barely register the second bullet lodging in my back, just below the one in my neck.

Tumbling, I can hear him cry out to me and my heart breaks knowing that I won’t be here anymore to care for him. He should be okay though, it’s early spring and he is strong. He will mourn me and perhaps blame himself, but in another year he will be a father himself. I wonder, will he tell his children his favorite story about the mighty fighter with thick velvet that reigns over all the woods?

Cold, muddy water splashing into my face draws me back to reality. I can hear our hunters above us; searching. “Go now!” I whisper, seeing that my son refuses to leave my side. I try to stand, and find that I cannot gather my legs under me. Crimson stains the water around us, spreading rapidly in the moving water. Nostrils flaring, he looks at me, the whites of his eyes bright in the gathering darkness.

“I found the trail! That bucks got to be here somewhere!” The voices are close, loud and ugly like the thunder in the distance.

“I’m sorry mother,” he sobs, backing away. I try to answer him, but am unable to speak. Turning, he runs up the culvert, his white tail finally fading into the night. As the large dark boots of my attacker’s splash around me, I am at peace knowing that he will live.




posted on Nov, 9 2013 @ 03:05 AM
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westcoast
The rain started a little while ago. At first, I was glad for what little cover it offered but that quickly turned to dismay. It’s harder to gain traction on the leaf strewn ground, and our pursuer is still close behind. Why doesn’t he just give up?

Looking over my right shoulder, I’m somewhat reassured that my young son is keeping up. I agreed to this outing against my better judgment, but he was so excited by the green sprouts of spring. It was impossible for me to say no. It used to be safe to go where we wanted when I was his age, but things have changed.

His father should be the one to take him on this trail, but he’s been gone for almost a year now. After his death, I swore that I wouldn’t let the same thing happen to our child. How could I have been so foolish? We had unknowingly wandered into the ‘dead zone’. An area occupied by killers who don’t hesitate to slaughter anyone they come across.

A shot rings out through the woods, passing near my head. Screaming, I nearly fall as splinters erupt from a tree just ahead of me. Spurred on by fear, I push at my son and we slide around the next bend in the trail. I see the flash of orange stepping out in front of us, but it’s too late. I do the only thing possible, throwing myself towards the rifle being leveled at him.

Of course there are two of them , I think as the shot rips into me, surprised at how little pain there is. We should have gotten off the trail a long time ago, but instead I followed my instinct. Out here though, that gets you killed. Shoving now in the other direction, my momentum carries me and my child over a fallen tree and down a steep embankment. I barely register the second bullet lodging in my back, just below the one in my neck.

Tumbling, I can hear him cry out to me and my heart breaks knowing that I won’t be here anymore to care for him. He should be okay though, it’s early spring and he is strong. He will mourn me and perhaps blame himself, but in another year he will be a father himself. I wonder, will he tell his children his favorite story about the mighty fighter with thick velvet that reigns over all the woods?

Cold, muddy water splashing into my face draws me back to reality. I can hear our hunters above us; searching. “Go now!” I whisper, seeing that my son refuses to leave my side. I try to stand, and find that I cannot gather my legs under me. Crimson stains the water around us, spreading rapidly in the moving water. Nostrils flaring, he looks at me, the whites of his eyes bright in the gathering darkness.

“I found the trail! That bucks got to be here somewhere!” The voices are close, loud and ugly like the thunder in the distance.

“I’m sorry mother,” he sobs, backing away. I try to answer him, but am unable to speak. Turning, he runs up the culvert, his white tail finally fading into the night. As the large dark boots of my attacker’s splash around me, I am at peace knowing that he will live.


Great story. Even though I have hunted, your story has wandered my mind for many years. The 'ol "what if" scenario. Maybe that's why I don't like taking the shot unless it's a sure quick kill.



posted on Nov, 9 2013 @ 08:31 AM
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Great writing.


I was trying to guess the main character, and was puzzled until the obvious in paragraph 4.

Well done, and SnF.



posted on Nov, 9 2013 @ 08:43 AM
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These things coming out of my eyes...what are they? You have taken all my feels, westcoast. All of them and put them into sticks that are jabbing my eyes. And it hurts. Man, excellent job!

I am an animal lover and a hunter, which may be completely impossible but this story hits me hard.





posted on Nov, 9 2013 @ 09:18 AM
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reply to post by westcoast
 


I have not hunted for many years and I stopped after thinking through what I was really doing. If it came down to my survival, I would hunt again but I would understand the consequences of my actions. Good job!



posted on Nov, 9 2013 @ 11:11 AM
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reply to post by havok
 


Ahhh...hope your eyes are okay!


Thanks for the responses. I am also an animal lover, but I really don't have anything against hunters. My husband used to hunt when he was younger and is planning on taking it up again this year. I am going to go out early in the next season with him to scope out trails, but the only thing I'll be taking with me is my camera!

I could most definitely hunt if I had to, but I chose not to do it for sport. I would cry shooting a duck, let alone a beautiful deer. The old chickens in the backyard are proof of my inability to eat anything I have already seen alive.



posted on Nov, 10 2013 @ 12:57 AM
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reply to post by westcoast
 


Nicely done!

Really enjoyed reading.


The Rat.



posted on Nov, 11 2013 @ 07:59 PM
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Wonderful story and full of detail that enhances rather than detracts from the story. That's quite an art to be able to do that, imo. It rings true to me that the doe wasn't frightened for herself, but for her fawn, and that nagging sense of sadness at not watching it grow up..... well done!



posted on Nov, 11 2013 @ 08:31 PM
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reply to post by argentus
 


Thank you! One of the biggest mistakes I used to make as a younger writer was being too descriptive. It took me a long time to find that balance.



posted on Nov, 13 2013 @ 06:06 AM
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reply to post by westcoast
 



Open Story - Main character pov is NOT human (could be a paranormal creature, an alien, an animal, a plant, a computer, whatever - just not human)


I apologise but I could not see 'what' was not human here.

Story line was great though and your descriptive build up was great and filled with emotion.

I felt the emotion and agony.



posted on Nov, 13 2013 @ 01:18 PM
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reply to post by Thurisaz
 


Maybe I'm being dense here, and you got it...but the main character is a deer.

Glad you liked the writing.



posted on Nov, 22 2013 @ 12:30 PM
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I'm giving this a shameless bump because there have been so many good entries! Keep them coming, it's fun to read them all!



posted on Nov, 25 2013 @ 02:48 PM
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reply to post by westcoast
 
Excellent story!!



posted on Nov, 26 2013 @ 01:09 AM
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reply to post by colddeadhands
 


Thank you! Glad you liked it.






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