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There it stood, scavenging the grass for food. T stand there, behind the bush so that the animal could not see me. Watched the deer and its slow, graceful movements. Watched, bow in hand, determination taqking all control. I heard the wind blow. It told me not to take the shot, not to take the life. But I do not listen. This was my time.
I moved a little closer, roots attempting, yet failing, to sop me. I felt invincible. I drew an arrow out of the cloth quiver, pulled the elegant bow's string back, and took aim. Suddenly the beast noticed me. I thought it would run, but no, it did not. Itstared at me, as if it knew my hunger, my suffering. I released the string. The slick arrow was sent through the air, raging toward the target, dodging anything the wind threw at it. Then the goal was acheived. Thank you, I say, blessing the wonderful deer.
- by G O L ii A T H |
- Fiction
- | Submitted on 02/28/2009 |
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- Title: The Shot
- Artist: G O L ii A T H
- Description: Something random I wrote in school one day.
- Date: 02/28/2009
- Tags: shot
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