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Deer Hunting
There are no deer out here. A blanket of snow covers the mountains and the trees as far as I can see, there’s absolutely nothing out here - nothing except us. I ask him what the big idea is, we’re out here dressed like two clowns. I’ve never even seen a deer and now he’s asking me to dress up in bright orange, go out in to the barren wilderness and shoot one. I ask him where the hell we are, we left the car two hours ago and I’ve not seen anything… are you sure they ain’t hibernating or something? It’s pretty cold out here.
I keep asking him what’s going on but he just stays silent. When we reach the grave I realise what’s going on. The shovel is still there, he must have dug it yesterday. He must know everything, I can tell he knows all about what happened with his wife. I try to explain, I say that things sort of ‘just happened‘. He just shakes his head and checks his chamber. Like an idiot I try to shoot first, and my heart sinks as I hear the empty click of the barrel. I beg and plead but he just says he’s sorry and fires. I’m on my back, down at the bottom of the grave. The blood is rushing out of me and things begin to slip away. He smokes half a cigarette and then starts shoveling the snow.
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