Humans

The Hunt

He was running for his life, as fast as his legs could carry him. He could hear the roar of the engine behind him, the loud and menacing sound of a truck that was chasing him. He could hear the sound of metal tearing through the forest, the violent and destructive sound of a machine that was cutting down the trees. He knew they were coming for him, the humans who wanted to kill him. They always did, ever since they invaded his land and hunted his kind.

He was a deer, a graceful and elegant creature of the wild; he grazed on the grass and drank from the streams, living in harmony with nature. He had a mate and two fawns, a loving and loyal family. He had a snug and warm den under a large oak tree, his safe and comfortable home. He had a life, simple and peaceful, yet full and rich.

But then they came. The humans. The most dangerous animal in the world.

They came with their machines, their guns, their traps. They came to take his land, his food, his freedom. They came to kill him, his family, his kind.

He had seen it happen before. He had seen his friends and relatives succumb to the humans’ cruelty. He had seen their bodies lying on the ground, bloodied and lifeless. He had seen their heads mounted on the walls, trophies of the humans’ pride. He had seen their skins turned into coats, rugs, and bags, accessories of the humans’ vanity.

He had tried to evade them, elude them, and flee from them. But they were unyielding, tenacious, ruthless. They hunted him in the light and in the dark, tracking him with their gadgets, chasing him with their machines, and shooting him with their guns. They wanted to end his life, and they would not stop until they did.

He had lost everything. His land, his food, his freedom. His family, his home, his life. He had nothing left but his fear, his pain, his anger.

He was running for his life. But he knew it was futile. He knew they would catch him. He knew they would kill him.

He reached a clearing, a small patch of grass surrounded by trees. He stopped, panting and trembling. He looked around, hoping to find a way out. But there was none. He was trapped.

He heard the engine behind him, louder and closer. He turned and saw them. The humans. The most dangerous animal in the world.

They were in a truck, a large and noisy machine. They had guns, long and shiny weapons. They had smiles and wicked and cruel expressions.

They stopped the truck, a few meters away from him. They got out, holding their guns. They walked towards him, slowly and confidently.

He backed away, fearfully and desperately. He had nowhere to go, and no one to help him. He was alone, helpless, hopeless.

He looked at them, pleadingly and angrily. He saw their eyes, cold and ruthless. He saw their mouths, mocking and taunting. He saw their fingers, pulling and squeezing.

He heard the shots, loud. He felt the bullets, piercing and burning. He felt the blood, flowing and spilling.

He fell to the ground, gasping and dying. He closed his eyes, fading and leaving.

He was a deer, a majestic creature of the wild. He had lived in harmony with nature, grazing on the grass and drinking from the streams. He had a life, a peaceful and simple one.

But then they came. The humans. The most dangerous animal in the world.

They took his life, a precious and beautiful one.

They took his life, and they didn’t care.