Here is the beginning of a new short story. I know that I said it would be up last night, but a meeting that ran too long had prevented me from posting it. As with all my writing here, copyright the date of the post. All rights reserved… yada yada yada. There will be more of this story, but not as much as the short story I’ve been posting recently.
He wakes in the morning, the world around him seems a little grayer, like the dusty edges of a long forgotten room. He rubs his eyes as if to clean the cobwebs away that form every night from the further reaches of his brain.
He knows what he needs to do.
“Today is a good day for a hunt.”, he says aloud to no one except the sparse furnishings that dot the room.
He can’t remember a morning where he wasn’t thinking about this hunt, about ending the life of this creature. He thought about it compulsively, like Ahab hunting the great white whale. He felt that his very existence was for this moment.
He sits up in his bed and stretches. He looks around his hovel. It’s small and a bit dank. Every day he looks out his window he sees the same white, fluffy ground. He used to remember there being a spring or a summer, but now it’s only the snow.
He sighs forlornly as he gazes out the window. His brain devoid of all but one thought. I will kill him today.
He stretches out his muscles, feeling the begin to circulate to his extremities that laid dormant for the evening’s slumber. The process of waking up, while tedious helped remind him of his limitations.
He sighs deeply as he struggles to remember what his life was prior to this godforsaken hunt. What did he do day-to-day without this monster?
(To be continued)