Hunting Season

Children who kill animals for the fun of it are called crazy and serial killers in training. Adults who do it are called hunters and upstanding citizens.

Hunting Season

Hunting season begins soon. The anticipation of the hunt fills me with a ravenous hunger. I eat, but it does not satiate me. Only a perfect kill will satisfy me and hold me content for the nine months to follow. Many will die this season in my pursuit of perfection, but only that one final kill will make its mark in my memory.

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When I was a child, they told my parents that this kind of behavior was aberrant. They said that my inclination to kill small animals was a stepping stone to worse things. They labeled me and then they drugged me. At one point, they took my freedom from me and kept me in a state run facility. My parents called it a hospital. Others called it a treatment center. It was all just fancy words for their fancy prison.

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I played their game. I knew what they wanted, and I gave it to them. I was the good boy. I drew happy pictures and told happy stories. When I was seventeen, they released me. A year later, my records were sealed. I was free to find a healthy outlet for my desires. Guns were easily and legally attainable. A few dollars and a few hours later, and I had been given legal license to kill animals.

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They didn't know the true me. They never guessed that their treatment allowed the monster in me to grow and mature. All those years spent sitting in dark emotionless rooms with pervasive pleasant music fed my hunger. It stoked the fire in my belly. The beast grew strong as it waited for release.

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Armed with a rifle and a hunting license, I will feed the beast. I will take several animals with no remorse. There will be neither pleasure nor pain in this exercise. This is the work. These are the hours I must put in to get the payday at the end. I'll have several trophies to add to my public collection, but only one will make it into my private collection. A newspaper clipping is all I will have after it is all over. The headline will read something like "Man Killed in Hunting Accident."

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Nobody pays close attention when a hunter accidentally kills another. Nobody tracks their deeds. Nobody labels them a serial killer and locks them away.

Author's Note

I'm not a big fan of writing first person POV stories, but sometimes it seems to me to be the only way for a particular piece.

Reviews

[R.S. Wilder]

Wow. I like the reality of it, the truth behind it. There's an underlying seriousness about this that makes it a bit - frightful, is you were to contemplate it long enough. Well done.