literature

Doug's story

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Doug stood on his tree perch statue still his old faithful hunting rifle rested in his hands familiar,
No deer had wonder in to his line of sight all day, but he had been watching a large black bear meander his way across the field, it now rested next to a sand stone not quite the same size.  Doug knew the stone well he had hunted here often, and by it he knew the size of the bear and he was a big guy.
Fresh meat and clean water had served Doug well into his fifty some years in this world, he had been a hunter from an early age and had moved from British Columbia to Ontario at an undisclosed time. He told me once how to tell Black bear shit from Grizzly, since there are no grizzlies in Ontario I wondered if this was just a moot point, but although Doug was a softly spoken polite man he still imposed a little fear in me, you got the sense that he wasn't the kind of guy you'd want to piss off.
" Ye know those 'bear bells' you can get? He asked me, I nodded my understanding.
(Like cat bell bells only bigger, on a strap of leather, you hang them off you belt and sound is suppose to scare off bears)
"I've seen folk 'out west' walking in the woods with them things on jingling as they go, with cans of pepper spray in their back packs.  Ye see ye black bear shit smells a bit like piss, un it's got berries un tree bark in it. Whereas ye grizzly shit smells o pepper and got little bells in it"!

With a bullet still in the chamber where it had been all day, and out of nervous tension from the long fruitless wait, Doug raised his rifle to his shoulder, took aim and fired. The shot echoed off the trees in the nearby woods, the sand stone he had aimed for exploded off a large chunk and through up a cloud of dust. The bear taken by surprise ran across the field and into the woods, Doug laughed to himself as it ran and began his climb down from the tree.


It had been a heavy day, humid, hot, black clouds had hung in the sky all day and trapped the heat in, it was starting to get late and the darkness was threatening, the bugs had started to come out.  The biting insects buzzed around him as he walked through the woods and the crickets and bull frogs almost deafeningly loud and unseen sang their relentless song.

Doug's long strides stopped dead in their tracks, he had that feeling, an unnerving shiver up his spine, he turned slowly.
Something in the trees didn't look right, maybe a shadow that shouldn't be there? He wasn't sure, but something spooked him, he sniffed the air as a breeze from the coming storm pushed the sent to him, rotten meat, he knew that smell, bear.
He turned his back to the breeze and resumed his path with more purposes, his legs told him to run but his intelligence told him not to, his fear told him to climb a tree but his knowledge told him to just keep walking.
He geared himself to turn round, he could see it now, black against dark as the thunder rolled from the storm, he turned back, took his gun from his shoulder as he walked, he took a bullet from the breast pocket of his  weathered old hunting coat, opened the chamber and slid the bullet into the gun.
A flash of light filled the woods for just a second followed shortly by its accompanying thunder, a fresh wind brought t the rain, warm rain. It was refreshing for Doug the heat and the adrenalin had made him sweet, made his clothes stick to his skin.
He made a quick turn and turned again with only a moment's pause halfway through, he just needed to get his eye in, work out where to aim; he saw the bear, closer this time, walking with a purpose.
The rain was washing down his face, he ran his hand down his face to whip it away, he braced himself and raised his rifle to his shoulder and dropped his chin against the butt as he turned quickly he looked for the bear, it was gone, he straitened his head and lowered his rifle slightly, heart pounding and breathing hard he looked for the bear, he could hear twigs snap and grunting in the dark of the woods.

Doug's gait was longer now more erratic, his body and mind at a disagreement, he stumbled against a tree trunk, one he recognized, an old dead tree hit by lighting years ago, the tree still told the story, black burnt markings and split wood, he was yards away from the dirt road and his truck, safety.
He throw his gun across his shoulders and pulled out his keys in readiness from his pocket, bracing himself against the tree he pushed himself forward and ran, he could hear grunts and twig snaps behind him.
He fell in to the drainage ditch by the road and scrambled up the muddy slope to the road, his truck sat there washed and clean from the rain, the second it took him to get the key in the lock of the old truck open the door and slam the door behind him was the longest moment Doug had ever experienced.
Doug looked in the direction of the woods expecting to see the bear racing towards him, but he saw nothing, he waited, still nothing, he breathed with relieve threw his gun on the back seat put the key in the ignition and dropped his foot hard on the gas, the truck's wheels shot gravel into the air as Doug began to laugh to himself.
He whipped mud from his face with his hand as the head lights shone on the lines of rain and the truck rumbled its way along the dirt road, Doug considered whether or not he was going to tell this hunting story with his buddies, or whether to just keep this story to himself.

The End.
Short story
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