Seth just became a member of ‘quizilla’ which has several different uses, one of which is a space to write stories. He shared his first one with me and I asked if I could share it here. He has been tinkering with writing for years (had one book almost complete then lost it somehow) and I must say he is pretty darn good. Anyway, here is his most recent literature: http://www.quizilla.com/stories/8534719/a-hunters-ambition-short-story
A Hunters Ambition (Short Story)
Created by EnchantedGatherings
Small story I came up with when I was bored. =P
Created by EnchantedGatherings on Sunday, December 28, 2008
As the sun’s cap peaked from the edge of the eastern horizon and the darkness of night faded, a lone hunter, by appearance no older than seventeen stumbled through the thin bushes spread along the tree line to a great pine forest. Small trickles of blood ran down his face and unclothed arms, these places had been struck and scraped by the thorns of bramble as he had raced between the trees. Ignoring his small wounds he trekked through the large meadow he had been working towards for days; his pack was torn to shreds and hung on his back under the quiver that held three, fairly thin, oak arrows, each with a deadly and razor sharp metal tip pointed down into the hardened leather. His tan shirt drenched with the water of the rain that had just cleared the sky’s thirty minutes before, and his brown pants fitting to him like a loose glove, held up by his ebony colored belt and his usual broad figure.
Trekking through the grass, his boots worn and covered in the fresh morning dew he walked for a little over an hour, covering at least a mile and finally coming to a stop at a beautiful patch of flowers, full of daisies, and a few un-named specimens of woodland flower. And in the center, there stood a small doe; her head was hidden in the flowers as she fed upon them. He smiled and silently crept closer to the creature, stopping twenty yards away he swung the unstrung yew bow from his shoulder, pressing the curved base against his boot and pushing down to string the tool, its wood creaked as it was flexed to form its normal crescent shape. He raised the bow straightening his back out and turning to the side with his left shoulder facing the doe. Bringing the bow to eye level, holding it in his left hand the string pressed against his skin, reaching back with his right he pulled a single arrow from the quiver.
Twisting his left wrist out a little to bring the string off the skin of his inner arm he slotted the arrow onto the string just above the small, clear bead in the center of it. He placed the center of the arrow on the small split he had formed with his thumb and the side of the bow, sliding his right fingers along the smooth arrow stopping at the string, placing his forefinger above it and his middle, and ring fingers below it; locking them into place by curving them inwards the underside of his first knuckles gripping the string. He grinned and pulled back with his right arm, forcing the string to bend and the bow to creak once more as it flexed back, pulling the tip of the arrow closer to the bow. He had stopped as his right hand reached his cheek, aiming for the doe’s neck and closing his eyes, whispering to himself. “I am sorry my friend, but I need the nourishment you provide; please forgive me once you reach your place of peace.” Opening his eyes and readjusting his aim, allowing the string to slip from his grasp and loosing the arrow with a twang, a sound that had echoed throughout the meadow and through the trees, causing a cloud of black birds to take flight and disappear into the horizon......
5 years ago