A Shot in the Cold

The rain had stopped. Cold sun bled between the trees.

‘Killer instinct,’ his father whispered, ‘is what’s made me who I am today.’

But all Scott saw was an alcoholic, diabetic divorcee.

‘You’re the hunter or the prey. Now pull the trigger.’

The rifle’s heaviness surprised him. His grasp was unsteady.

‘Choose one. And shoot.’

‘I can’t,’ Scott said.

‘Yes, you can.’

The stock felt warm on his cheek, the trigger cold against his finger.

Scott steadied the sight. And squeezed.

The shot echoed and released birds as the frightened deer ran past the splintered tree into the cold light.

(100 words)

© 2017 Occasional Dreams
In response to: 100 Word Weekly Writing Challenge —Week 4
Image by: Andreas P.


Thanks to Bikurgurl for organising and coordinating these 100 Word Wednesdays each week.

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6 Replies to “A Shot in the Cold”

  1. I like his choice to be the prey, as his father sternly warned against. To ‘rage against the dying of the light’ — we are nothing but our series of choices. Thanks for joining us this week 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thank you for hosting 🙂 Ah, I didn’t consider it in those terms. But yes, life is a series of choices and we are always choosing. And there are many reasons why someone would abandon themselves to become the ‘prey’ I guess.

      Liked by 1 person

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