Sunday, 24 May 2009

A fish you can't catch...

He spotted it, there in the undergrowth.
Beads of sweat were forming slowly on his skin, his hair bunching up in thick strands, the weight of the moment holding him still as his eyes tracked it, flinching from side to side slightly with anxiety.

Its skin caught the sun that seeped through the branches delicately, and the colours it reflected brought a greedy warmth to his heart. This was the hunt of a lifetime, he had a glimspe of what many had spoken about, what many had yearned for, fought for, killed for. And now he was but a few metres away from this creature.
The pressure was on, he shook with anticipation and slight euphoria at the thought of what he had within view.

It moved slowly, and carefully, and all its muscles beautifully defined a landscape of grace and strength like no other he had seen. He could only do so much to stop his lips from smacking at the thought of it finally in his clutches, the hunt.. the hunt!

And then it came, the perfect moment, the ultimate chance, the point from which there can be no return, only an ending.

He aimed, his eye still and focused, posture perfectly aligned, rifle propped against his shoulder and finger sweating yet ready and waiting to pull the trigger.

It reared its head mane flickered slightly, and for a split second hunter and hunted locked eyes and time would have been stood still were it not for the bead of sweat that rolled down across his eyebrow at that moment.

It slumped to the floor, and he sped out from his hideout, and knelt by its side, his eyes glowing with what he thought he had finally caught. He lifted its head, trying to get it to do its magic, trying to figure out how, now that he caught it, he could finally get it. Nothing happened.

As Happiness bled out at his feet, its tongue hung out to the side, eyes rolled at an odd angle, neck bent back, the flies began to swarm and the forest began to resume its pace.