If you’ve been reading anything I’ve written in the past or at least spoken to me just once, you know that I have some big plans for FRANK N. STEIN. I hope to create a thriving world within the pages of FNS but I’ve always planned for more than just the central story. I’ve decided to begin my first small side story that will be presented in the form of short stories. There will be some connections to the central story but for the most part this is a stand alone short story. I hope you enjoy it!
Logs of the Hunter: Part One
Remain steady. Breathe as if one with the air. Focus, embrace the target. Let its movements become my own as I predict each step, each stumble and each unaware notion that keep it ignorant of my stalking. I know nothing of this person’s past yet my continued gaze upon him allows me to become synced and one with his body language. With his movement I can practically read exactly who this person is, leaving behind a trail of information for me to decipher how best to end his existence. I believe there is a particular relationship shared between the hunter and the prey, one that I was taught to respect immensely.
As I reach for my arrow I take not an eye off my prey, never allowing my synced eye to fall from its now subconscious flow. Lining up the arrow to the bow I can practically already feel the arrow slide across the fine wood, plummeting itself deep into the man’s heart. He would take one final breath then begin his decent towards the ground, during which, his life will have already ended. I would then withdraw from my nest and reclaim the item I will be paid so generously for. A plan that requires me only to begin the moment the man takes yet a slight step towards his right.
Yet, the man takes the step and my arrow hesitates. A young boy exits the tent behind the man who still yet breathes. Evidently littered with sickness, the boy is coughing and hacking up fluids as they exit his mouth. Barely clinging to life the boy pushes his body towards the man. The man kneels down and takes the boy into his arms with a warm embrace. The man looks at the boy with yet another look I am aware of, impending sorrow.
…I will draw no blood this day.