12-11-2020, 05:24 AM
A morning fog covered the meadow, the tall yellow grass barely visible. The field was surrounded by tall pines, a small campsite sat at the edge of the forest. Charcoals still embered in a small stone fire pit, smoking gently into the air. A hand peeled open the flap of a rudimentary A-frame tent -- a middle-aged man stepped out, barefoot and in only sweat pants, he stretched his arms towards the sky and twisted his bare torso.
Broad shouldered and tall, his toned muscles clearly defined in the morning light. He shivered in the cool breeze; goosebumps covered his tanned skin as his dark brown body hair stood up. He brushed his fingers through his dark, messy hair. He had a strong jaw, even further defined by his salt and pepper scruff. He squinted his piercing blue eyes, observing a small doe feeding on the other side of the field. A gentle smile cracked his chapped lips.
The fire roared to life again as the man crouched before it, bundling up dry grass and breaking small twigs to feed the flame. He warmed his seasoned hands, calloused, and scarred from years of exploring this forest.
As the sun rose, the fog quickly dissipated, and the air warmed. The man walked into the forest. In jeans now, held tight to his waist by a leather belt, a long hunting knife dangled from it. A bow and arrows slung over his still bare torso. His jeans rolled up past his ankle, his bare feet stepped silently through the forest floor. He maneuvered through carefully and quickly.
A snap of twigs caused him to stop suddenly. He observed in the direction of the sound, his breathing slowed as his broad chest rose and fell. Through the trees a wild boar shuffled its nose into the leafy forest floor, snorting and sniffing out morning grub.
He gently reached over his shoulder, firmly grasping the bow, pulling it off his back. He strung an arrow silently and crouched low to the forest floor. His bare feet stepped meticulously over leaves and twigs as the boar continued to grunt and snort in the distance, blithely unaware of the threat. A clear line of sight now, the man readied the bow. As he pulled back the arrow, each sinew on the muscles in his shoulders twitched and flexed, the deep crevices of his triceps and biceps revealed themselves.
With a quick twang the arrow disappeared from the bow and his arm relaxed, an almost silent swoosh could be heard before a guttural squeal filled the forest. The boar crashed and flailed through the brush, screaming, and squealing before finally collapsing with a thud.
The man quickly darted towards his prey, unsheathing his hunting knife as he approached the animal. The arrow stuck out from behind its dark beady eyes, the boar wheezed with rapid, heavy breaths and gentle cries before squealing one last time as the knife plunged into its heart.
The man heaved the lifeless board onto one shoulder, while the bow and arrows hung on his other. His muscled torso flexed under the weight of his prize, as the blood of the boar dripped gently down the crevices of the man's abdomen. He marched back towards camp. His bare feet crunched through the leafy forest floor. He whistled a tune cheerfully as he approached the meadow, the smoke from his burnt-out fire twisted into the air above the pines. The man's eyes widened as he walked into his camp, observing his tent open and his items strewn about.
An almost silent swoosh filled the air and the man doubled over with a grunt, the boar sliding off his shoulder and flopping to the ground. He stood tall again as his hands reached towards his abdomen, his blue eyes looked down at the feathered end of a thin shaft, following its length towards his belly. Embedded next to his navel, his thumb and index finger gripped the arrow, feeling the slick blood that began to slowly seep out around the wooden shaft. He looked up, stumbling backward in shock, he made eye contact with another man standing in the meadow, decked out in camo and a bow in hand.
He fumbled for the hunting knife sheathed to his belt as the man in camo came sprinting towards him. He stumbled backwards, tripping over the stone fire pit, his hunting knife fell to the ground. As he scrambled to his feet, grunting in immense pain as the arrow moved in his gut, the man in camo was upon him. An 8 inch boning knife held in one hand punctured into his stomach, slicing through him in the center crease of his abdomen, just above his belly button. The man gasped as inches of the blade penetrated him, he cried out in further pain as the man in camo shoved the knife forward again, fully embedding it.
He tried to push the man in camo away, watching the thin curved blade slide out from his stomach dripping in his blood. He shuddered as the fine point sucked out of him. The thin open wound began to pulse blood down his lower belly. The man in camo lunged forward again, the fine tip of the knife entered the same spot. He screamed in pain as the 6 inches of the sharp blade sliced through him again. He aggressively pushed the man in camo away, the knife sliced downwards, and it’s curved blade slipped out of his stomach. The two men stumbled backwards from each other.
He looked down at his bleeding belly, a thin, long cut above his navel bled profusely. He stumbled backwards before his back hit a pine tree behind him. His weathered hands touched the wound, frantically attempting to stop the blood. As he looked up the man in camo grabbed the feathered end of the arrow, yanking it violently, the narrow tip exploded out of his gut carrying bits of gore on its head. He was pulled forward with the yank, collapsing to his hands and knees on the floor, screaming in pain. He rolled over onto his back, groaning as his hands attempted to stop the flow of blood from his wounds.
The man in camo stood over him, the boning knife in hand. He leaned over, traced it gently down the man’s abdomen as the man squirmed beneath him, the point rested in the wound above his navel momentarily before he pushed the blade in again. It sliced through, one inch, then two, then four, then six. He pulled the knife down towards the man’s groin, lengthening the wound. The man groaned and twisted in agony, every muscle in his torso contorting and flexing. The sharp knife sliced through his belly as the man in camo yanked and pulled it down, he stopped when it rested deep in his navel. He pushed the blade again; it sank to the hilt in the man’s navel. The man groaned, losing strength and consciousness now. The man in camo removed the blade slowly inch by inch, before pressing it down to the hilt again. He yanked the blade fully out, watched as it dripped blood over the man’s torso. He placed the point on the unbroken skin of the man’s upper belly and pressed again, the blade sank slowly into him inch by inch. He pulled it out again and found another spot of unbroken skin on the man’s lower belly, just along his deep v-oblique, he pressed the thin knife in. The man screamed one last guttural scream, before gently starting to cry and moan. The boning knife sucked out of his lower belly and sliced into him again in various spots on his abdomen. Blood pooled beneath him. His body goes limp as the man in camo continues to penetrate him. In and out, shredding the man’s toned abdomen.
Suddenly he stops, admires his work, and whispers to himself, “predator becomes prey”.
Broad shouldered and tall, his toned muscles clearly defined in the morning light. He shivered in the cool breeze; goosebumps covered his tanned skin as his dark brown body hair stood up. He brushed his fingers through his dark, messy hair. He had a strong jaw, even further defined by his salt and pepper scruff. He squinted his piercing blue eyes, observing a small doe feeding on the other side of the field. A gentle smile cracked his chapped lips.
The fire roared to life again as the man crouched before it, bundling up dry grass and breaking small twigs to feed the flame. He warmed his seasoned hands, calloused, and scarred from years of exploring this forest.
As the sun rose, the fog quickly dissipated, and the air warmed. The man walked into the forest. In jeans now, held tight to his waist by a leather belt, a long hunting knife dangled from it. A bow and arrows slung over his still bare torso. His jeans rolled up past his ankle, his bare feet stepped silently through the forest floor. He maneuvered through carefully and quickly.
A snap of twigs caused him to stop suddenly. He observed in the direction of the sound, his breathing slowed as his broad chest rose and fell. Through the trees a wild boar shuffled its nose into the leafy forest floor, snorting and sniffing out morning grub.
He gently reached over his shoulder, firmly grasping the bow, pulling it off his back. He strung an arrow silently and crouched low to the forest floor. His bare feet stepped meticulously over leaves and twigs as the boar continued to grunt and snort in the distance, blithely unaware of the threat. A clear line of sight now, the man readied the bow. As he pulled back the arrow, each sinew on the muscles in his shoulders twitched and flexed, the deep crevices of his triceps and biceps revealed themselves.
With a quick twang the arrow disappeared from the bow and his arm relaxed, an almost silent swoosh could be heard before a guttural squeal filled the forest. The boar crashed and flailed through the brush, screaming, and squealing before finally collapsing with a thud.
The man quickly darted towards his prey, unsheathing his hunting knife as he approached the animal. The arrow stuck out from behind its dark beady eyes, the boar wheezed with rapid, heavy breaths and gentle cries before squealing one last time as the knife plunged into its heart.
The man heaved the lifeless board onto one shoulder, while the bow and arrows hung on his other. His muscled torso flexed under the weight of his prize, as the blood of the boar dripped gently down the crevices of the man's abdomen. He marched back towards camp. His bare feet crunched through the leafy forest floor. He whistled a tune cheerfully as he approached the meadow, the smoke from his burnt-out fire twisted into the air above the pines. The man's eyes widened as he walked into his camp, observing his tent open and his items strewn about.
An almost silent swoosh filled the air and the man doubled over with a grunt, the boar sliding off his shoulder and flopping to the ground. He stood tall again as his hands reached towards his abdomen, his blue eyes looked down at the feathered end of a thin shaft, following its length towards his belly. Embedded next to his navel, his thumb and index finger gripped the arrow, feeling the slick blood that began to slowly seep out around the wooden shaft. He looked up, stumbling backward in shock, he made eye contact with another man standing in the meadow, decked out in camo and a bow in hand.
He fumbled for the hunting knife sheathed to his belt as the man in camo came sprinting towards him. He stumbled backwards, tripping over the stone fire pit, his hunting knife fell to the ground. As he scrambled to his feet, grunting in immense pain as the arrow moved in his gut, the man in camo was upon him. An 8 inch boning knife held in one hand punctured into his stomach, slicing through him in the center crease of his abdomen, just above his belly button. The man gasped as inches of the blade penetrated him, he cried out in further pain as the man in camo shoved the knife forward again, fully embedding it.
He tried to push the man in camo away, watching the thin curved blade slide out from his stomach dripping in his blood. He shuddered as the fine point sucked out of him. The thin open wound began to pulse blood down his lower belly. The man in camo lunged forward again, the fine tip of the knife entered the same spot. He screamed in pain as the 6 inches of the sharp blade sliced through him again. He aggressively pushed the man in camo away, the knife sliced downwards, and it’s curved blade slipped out of his stomach. The two men stumbled backwards from each other.
He looked down at his bleeding belly, a thin, long cut above his navel bled profusely. He stumbled backwards before his back hit a pine tree behind him. His weathered hands touched the wound, frantically attempting to stop the blood. As he looked up the man in camo grabbed the feathered end of the arrow, yanking it violently, the narrow tip exploded out of his gut carrying bits of gore on its head. He was pulled forward with the yank, collapsing to his hands and knees on the floor, screaming in pain. He rolled over onto his back, groaning as his hands attempted to stop the flow of blood from his wounds.
The man in camo stood over him, the boning knife in hand. He leaned over, traced it gently down the man’s abdomen as the man squirmed beneath him, the point rested in the wound above his navel momentarily before he pushed the blade in again. It sliced through, one inch, then two, then four, then six. He pulled the knife down towards the man’s groin, lengthening the wound. The man groaned and twisted in agony, every muscle in his torso contorting and flexing. The sharp knife sliced through his belly as the man in camo yanked and pulled it down, he stopped when it rested deep in his navel. He pushed the blade again; it sank to the hilt in the man’s navel. The man groaned, losing strength and consciousness now. The man in camo removed the blade slowly inch by inch, before pressing it down to the hilt again. He yanked the blade fully out, watched as it dripped blood over the man’s torso. He placed the point on the unbroken skin of the man’s upper belly and pressed again, the blade sank slowly into him inch by inch. He pulled it out again and found another spot of unbroken skin on the man’s lower belly, just along his deep v-oblique, he pressed the thin knife in. The man screamed one last guttural scream, before gently starting to cry and moan. The boning knife sucked out of his lower belly and sliced into him again in various spots on his abdomen. Blood pooled beneath him. His body goes limp as the man in camo continues to penetrate him. In and out, shredding the man’s toned abdomen.
Suddenly he stops, admires his work, and whispers to himself, “predator becomes prey”.