The Mighty Hunter

I've wanted to write this short story for a while now, and finally got it done today. It's little more than a tidbit, but I wanted to share it with you....

 

The mighty hunter took a gulp of water and sighed, content with his day’s work. There would be much food on the table that night; he’d made sure of that. Nothing could compare to the satisfying feeling when the work was done, the food was cooking, and the home grounds were secure.

But something nagged at his senses. The hunter furrowed his brow and cocked his head. His senses were fine tuned from years of hunting, and there was no denying the buzzing in his ear; something was invading his hunting grounds.

The mighty hunter stood with a snarl and surveyed his weapons. His prize tool hung in a special place on the wall. Its handle gleamed, and its flat, flexible end promised impeccable service. A ferocious grin spread on his face. The invading creature would not know what hit it.

The hunter held his weapon with practiced ease. His eyes darted about, searching for the invader. He calmed his breathing and settled into the peaceful awareness of a predator hunting his prey. 

The hairs on the back of his neck tingled, and he spun around. There, not three yards away, sat his prey. The hunter stalked forward, careful not to disturb it. Had anyone been around, they would have marveled at his meticulous stealth. 

The creature before him remained completely oblivious to the danger. It cleaned its appendages, arrogantly believing itself safe, even on strange land. It hummed in peaceful satisfaction.

The mighty hunter closed the last few inches between him and his prey in a blink of an eye. He brought his weapon down with a snarl. The satisfying crunch of exoskeleton and guts assured the hunter of his kill.

He lifted his weapon and cleaned it, pleased with its effectiveness. A trap may have been easier, but it could not have matched the satisfaction of crushing his prey with his own strength. Sure, it was a bit… messy. But, thought the hunter as he disposed of the remains, cleaning up a trap would be messier. 

The mighty hunter hung his weapon with reverence and returned to his seat. He took another swig of water, still reveling in his successful hunt. No creature could invade his hunting grounds and get away with it. 

He gazed at the flyswatter on the wall, satisfied that, thanks to his hunting prowess, his house was blissfully insect-free.

Inspired by my dad, a mighty hunter in his own right. His serious approach to insects, be it a fly in the kitchen at home or a bee in Grandma's dining room at Thanksgiving, is impressive. Illustration by me.