The Hunter

This week’s photo writing prompt courtesy of Sue Vincent’s fun #writephoto challenge is entitled “calling”. The goal is to write a story based on the wintery snap below. My take is a bit of frigid fun in ~340 words. Be sure to check out the other great takes by clicking on the link above and if you haven’t already, why not have a go yourself.

He was The Hunter, it was his calling. A professional for hire, infamous for his efficiency, he’d hunted on every continent. The good, the bad it didn’t matter to him. A contract was a contract, and he would always shoot his target. There was no room for compassion in this game, emotion could get you killed. He had the scars to prove it. He’d had enough, he was done. One last big contract and he’d finally come in from the cold. Just as soon as he made it back to civilisation.

It was snowing hard by the time he reached the ridge. His breath hung in the cold morning air, as he looked across the pristine white valley to the evergreen tree line. He’d been hunting the old stag for days now. Each time he’d got within range, somehow it would sense him and make a hasty escape. But The Hunter was patient, he’d learnt from his mistakes. The old stag was running out of tricks. The hunter always got his target.

With shaking hands he looked through the scope. This time he had him. He was close enough. This time, he would finish it. Instinctively he slowed his breath, controlled his shaking and placed the crosshairs over the stag. He breathed out one last long breath, his finger tightened. The stag suddenly flinched, its head shot up and it stared straight back at him, right through the lens. It caught him off guard, he hesitated, just for a moment, before his finger twitched. There was no room for emotion in this game. With a whirling clicking, the camera took fifty shots in quick succession. It took only a second but the stag was long gone by the last shot. With frozen fingers The Hunter eagerly scanned back through the photos, did he finally have him?

He’d been hunting the old stag for days now. He was hungry, starving, but he’d get his target, he always did. He would complete this last contract and make one last killing. National Geographic always paid well.