This week’s photo prompt of Sue reminded me of a novel I read years ago. The yearling by Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings! I took a little help of this classic and formed a short story. Hope you would like it!
Read and Respond guys. 🙂
It was the coldest night of the year. The snow fell very quickly. Each hour another inch of snow gathered. Building up rapidly and a huge blanket of snow spread over everything in sight. The pine forest got buried inside it. The snow piled up over the needle-like leaves of the Pines. The branches turned white and the water turned to ice. The pine forest wrapped up in dead silence. The only noise was the whooshing of wind and the crunching of snow.
Amidst the still whiteness, a small brick house stood with brevity! The only sign of life was the smoke coming out of chimney which turned immediately into flakes. The door of the brick opened with a muffled creak and a silhouette of a man came out. Holding a rifle in his hand, he came forward. His head bowed down. Cold and helpless! He slowly inched towards the center of the forest.
His stone-cold finger laying on the trigger and his eyes on the track! His eyes gleamed with tiredness and hope. The hope of finding anything which he could take home! But the forest was hushed. The loud whoosh of snowfall muted other sounds in the forest. The whiteness of snow wiped all colors in the forest. Dirty brown on his clothes was looking like an alien amidst the snow-clad forest.
The Hunter grew desperate! He wanted a kill. Anything! Even a small rabbit! His eyes pressed to the white curtain of snow before him. Praying for a miracle, he raised his rifle to the shoulder and a hundred meters away the curtain quivered as a doe raised her head. Looking directly at the hunter! Her cold, snowy eyes were staring at him. Pleading silently! As the hunter began to squeeze the trigger, another head rose beside her. An infant fawn! It did not see the hunter but could sense how alert her mother had suddenly become.
Hunter’s hands shook by the idea of killing the mama doe. He could sense the feeling woe emitting his kill. He thought of his kids. The idea of them wallowing over their father’s death made him change his mind. But the idea of leaving them hungry and returning home with empty hands was even more heartbreaking. He made up his mind and squeezed the trigger.
Two shots from the rifle broke the stillness of the forest. The hunter moved towards the kill. Two pairs of snowy eyes were still staring at him.