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- Story Listed as: Fiction For Adults
- Theme: Mystery
- Subject: Horror / Scary
- Published: 12/23/2017
Hunter
Born 1964, F, from Gordon, ACT, AustraliaDr Gordon Kennedy gazed in awe at the glorious beauty of the buck as it delicately sipped at the waterhole, its antlers spread magnificently above its majestic head. Gordon breathlessly raised the hunting rifle to his shoulder, his hands trembling with anticipation. The buck slowly steadied in his sights as he breathed steadily and focused. One shot, and the beautiful animal staggered and dropped to its knees in the mud. Another shot, and it fell heavily to one side, blood bubbling from its nose and mouth.
Gordon laughed and posed for pictures as his hunting guides congratulated him on such a fine kill. He was already imagining the buck’s head mounted on his wall amongst his other trophies, already rewriting the story in his head. This would become an adventure that would involve tracking the beast for miles in the unrelenting heat through the dangerous landscape. He toyed with the idea of defending himself against an attack, but decided that might be going overboard. Subtlety was the key to being believed.
Two months later saw Dr Kennedy hosting his own welcome back party. He was in his element as he proudly showed off his latest acquisition, his guests hanging onto every word of his imaginary exploits.
“You did an amazing job of preserving the head, how long did it take?”
Actually, it didn’t take him any time at all. Although he had some rudimentary skills as a taxidermist, he didn’t really have the stomach for handling his kills afterwards. He had people to do that, including a very talented and discreet taxidermist. He gazed with pride at the buck’s head. “I put some serious time and effort into it,” he said solemnly. “I take great pride in my work. If it’s worth doing, it’s worth doing properly.”
His guests nodded in admiration, and he took the opportunity to show off some of his other trophies.
The black bear that he had killed while it hibernated, the body rearranged for the photos to display its fearsome teeth and claws, then the carcass skinned and turned into a nice rug. The story underwent a similar transformation; his audience could barely believe he got out alive.
And of course the obligatory collection of large cats. The lions that had been killed while gathered at the drinking hole, the tigers shot while Gordon hid behind his guides or in a secure vehicle, and one jaguar that had the bad fortune to be caught sleeping in low branches. The stuffed reincarnations snarled and menaced Gordon’s awestruck audience and they marvelled at his courage as he shamelessly wove tales of facing down these charging killers as his men cowered behind him for protection.
He noticed one exotically attractive woman standing at the back, a glass of champagne in her hand. The expression on her face was hard to read, but Gordon felt uncomfortably exposed, as if she knew the truth and was secretly mocking him for it.
He excused himself and left his guests admiring a set of alligators which he had purchased from a gentleman in Florida; for an extra hundred bucks he also purchased the man’s silence.
The woman watched him approach, her beautiful face exquisitely expressionless.
They shook hands, and Gordon introduced himself. “Yes,” she said coolly. “I know who you are.” She paused. “My name is Lenore. I have a story you might enjoy, given your … interests.”
Gordon didn’t know what to make of this woman, but the feeling of being mocked grew stronger. He had the disconcerting feeling that she wasn’t at all impressed with his braggery and he felt surprisingly embarrassed, an emotion he hadn’t experienced in many years.
He led her over to the bar, and topped up both their glasses before they sat facing each other.
Lenore leaned forward, her dark eyes mesmerising. “I was a Christian missionary for many years,” she began. “I have seen many sights in my lifetime, some that elevated me and some that weighed me down in horror and darkness. I have saved the souls of many people in the most inhospitable and impenetrable parts of the world, and I have been shunned by many who would not hear the word of God. These souls will forever be lost to the likes of me.” She paused again, her eyes looking through Gordon into a past life in foreign lands.
“My last mission was in the deep jungles of Borneo. I had heard of a tribe who worshipped a pagan god, one represented by the largest snake since the beginning of time. A great python, hundreds of years old that was capable of eating a man whole. It was told that they would make human sacrifices to this beast, and in return it would leave their village be.
“They would not believe in the Christian God despite my best efforts. They could see their god, even touch it if they were brave enough. Their physical god was easier to believe in than one they couldn’t see and had never heard of before this strange white woman trespassed on them. Some of them tried, I guess, but they could never reconcile their beliefs with a God who didn’t demand sacrifice. And I could never reconcile my beliefs with their god who did. Until I saw it for myself.”
She leaned back and took a sip of her champagne, tilting her head back to look up at the ceiling. Stuffed eagles soared above them, suspended on thin wires.
The seconds ticked by. Gordon suspected that Lenore had forgotten he was there and he cleared his throat, reluctant to interrupt her memories but desperate to hear more of this great python.
“You really saw this thing for yourself?” he whispered in awe.
Lenore nodded and sighed. “Yes, it was a terrible sight to behold. My curiosity was nearly the death of me.” She swallowed, obviously reluctant to go on with her story and revisit that dreadful experience. “A sacrifice was made every full moon, usually orang-utans or other large monkeys, one of the big cats if they could be caught, the occasional rhino with its horn removed. Other times, someone from the village. A human being.” Tears glistened in her beautiful eyes. Gordon suspected a story behind the story, maybe someone she had gotten too close to, but he didn’t want to pry. And he needed to hear the end of the tale.
“They would tether the animal or human in a clearing half a mile or so from the village, and leave them to their fate. In the morning, there would be nothing left. No bones, no … body pieces. Nothing. Gone, as if they had never existed. It was forbidden to watch their god take the sacrifice, but I had to see it. I had to!” She looked at Gordon, and he nodded. He would have done the same.
“They sacrificed a man that I had become fond of. I still believe this is why he was chosen. My intent was to release him, save him, but I was too late. The moonlight made everything as bright as if it were daytime, and I had no problem finding the clearing. I could see my love standing there. I thought he was looking at me, then I heard a most dreadful sound. I looked, and I saw god. Its body stood as high as my shoulder and seemed to go on forever. It wrapped itself around my love and squeezed. I heard his bones snap as he was crushed to death. I saw him try to scream, but he had no breath. Then god raised its massive head and devoured him.
“I left that night. I didn’t go back to the village, I just left. I knew I would be next and I had no desire to die like that. Somehow, I made it home, I like to think with my God’s help. And here I am.”
Silence fell. Gordon went to the bar and brought back whiskey in two crystal tumblers. He found himself imagining this great beast occupying a position of honour somewhere in his collection. What a coup that would be!
Lenore effortlessly swallowed her whiskey and stood up. She handed Gordon a large plain envelope, turned and walked away without another word.
Gordon went back to his guests. His collection now seemed so tame, so incomplete. Covetousness burned in his soul. He somehow got through the rest of the evening before finally getting the privacy he craved. He felt Lenore had told him the story for a reason, maybe wanted him to avenge her lost love. He prayed the envelope contained information, and he breathed heavily as he extracted a map and two pages of a handwritten letter.
The map was circled, coordinates written in the margins. The letter contained detailed instructions of when and where he could find the beast.
He drank more whiskey and let his imagination run free. His dreams that night were filled with man-eating snakes, with guns that wouldn’t fire, with a deadly inability to run fast enough. He awoke the next morning tired and unrested, and made plans to travel to Borneo.
Gordon sweated and slapped at enormous mosquitos, and wondered at his desire to voluntarily be in this hell-hole. His body and clothing was constantly damp from the unrelenting humidity, and everything in the impenetrable forest wanted to eat him. He sprayed more insect repellent on his exposed skin, and heaved himself to his feet. His guides and bearers followed suit.
Gordon lumbered through the trees after his guides, marvelling at their ability to so effortlessly find their way through this mess with no landmarks or reference points. He knew he would be lost in seconds and dead in hours if they deserted him.
The full moon was due soon, they had to find the sacrificial clearing before then. He couldn’t imagine staying here until the next full moon.
Darkness was rapidly approaching, and the men made camp as best they could in the thick undergrowth. Gordon chewed unhappily on beef jerky and beans, and washed his modest meal down with tepid water. He had a flask of whiskey hidden on his person for later, which was some small consolation.
The next day proceeded in a similarly depressing fashion, and Gordon despaired of ever finding his prey. He trudged mindlessly through the miserable humidity, one foot after another, trusting his men to alert him to any danger. He didn’t even notice when they stopped, and he nearly knocked them over like little brown dominoes. The leader, Adam, looked at him and made shushing gestures, pointing through a gap in the trees.
Gordon moved quietly alongside Adam, and gazed in awe at the clearing just visible through the trees. A wooden pole stood solidly near the edge of the clearing, the broken remnants of either rope or maybe strong vines further proof that this was where the sacrifices were made.
They retreated a little into the forest, and made camp. Gordon prayed the sacrifice would be tonight, he couldn’t stand another day here. With nothing else to do, the group tried to catch some sleep.
Gordon was fast asleep when he felt something slither over his face and cover his mouth. He startled awake in horror, only to find himself looking into Adam’s suspiciously innocent face. He put a finger to his lips and gestured for Gordon to follow him.
The clearing was as light as day, the full moon hanging heavy and bright above. Half a dozen tribesmen forced a struggling victim into the clearing and swiftly tethered his feet to the wooden pole. His arms were tied behind him, leaving him completely helpless. Gordon felt a twinge of sympathy, and hoped they could kill his trophy before it killed another victim.
They waited patiently in the moonlight as the tribesmen scurried away. The victim sank heavily to his knees and bowed his head, perhaps in prayer.
Adam heard it first, and looked at Gordon in excited terror. Gordon looked to his left and saw the most magnificent creature he had ever seen. It wasn’t quite as big as Lenore had described it, but it was still enormous. It slid towards them, the thickest part of its body maybe as high as Gordon’s hips. Its beautiful skin shone and glimmered in the light. Gordon was gripped by a hungry desire to kill and possess, and he nodded at his men who darted towards the sacrifice. The bound man looked up in surprised gratitude as they cut his bonds and allowed him to escape into the forest.
The python hesitated and flicked its tongue before changing course and heading towards Gordon and his gang. Gordon stared in mesmerised horror as the beast came at him. Without thinking, he raised his rifle and took the best shot of his life. The bullet smashed through the python’s eye and into its brain; its mighty body flexed and writhed in magnificent death throes before it finally lay still.
Gordon handed a stick to Adam and motioned for him make sure the creature was truly dead. Adam promptly passed the stick to one of his men who had the misfortune to be standing nearby. Not wanting to look a coward in front of his compatriots, this brave soul tentatively approached the python and poked it with the stick. No response. The rest of the team surged forward and gathered around the body to take pictures. Gordon posed next to the head and then the highest part of the body, a foolish grin on his face as he cradled his rifle.
Once the photos were taken care of, Gordon directed his team to remove the python’s head and as much of the skin as possible. The heavy head was carefully placed in a crate packed with salt, then the crate was placed on a wooden stretcher. The skin was rubbed with salt, baled and secured with soft bindings. This was placed on another stretcher.
They didn’t know it yet, but they had made a fatal mistake. One that would soon cost lives.
Gordon felt the vibration through his shoes before he heard anything. Eight of his men had just left with their burdens, the rest of the group were chattering softly and gathering their belongings. One by one they froze and looked beyond Gordon into the trees. Gordon froze in abject fear as a creature out of his blackest nightmares came into view. Its head was the size of a car, followed by a mammoth body which curved endlessly into the clearing. Its deadly gaze fixed on the small group of men who were butchering one of its own. Gordon promptly soiled himself then collapsed in a dead faint, a move which most likely spared him the fate of many of his men.
The early morning sunlight was filtering through the green foliage when he awoke. Someone had pulled him into the shelter of the forest, and he could see five of his men crouched nearby. He found himself praying that the bearers got away with his precious trophies, and immediately hated himself.
Adam gave him the bad news over breakfast. Of the original twenty-five, there were only the five of them left, plus the eight that got away with the head and skin. The rest had been crushed or devoured. Gordon nodded and closed his eyes, he would see about compensating the families when this business was finished.
He didn’t remember much of the journey home, just snapshots in his head of slogging through the heat, of mosquitos droning around his head and savaging his exposed sweaty skin, of putting one foot in front of the other in a fog of misery. Then he was home again, his journey nothing more than a bad dream.
The python’s head was eventually returned to him, beautifully preserved and mounted. Gordon stared at it, wishing he’d bagged the monster snake instead of this inferior sized reptile. Maybe one day, when the horror and fear had been replaced with tales of adventure and heroism. When he could sleep without dreaming of being chased and devoured by a monster with blood on its breath. Maybe.
Gordon went to the bar for another drink and to admire himself in the full length mirror. His perfectly tailored snakeskin jacket was iridescent in the soft light. He turned this way and that, hypnotised by the glimmering colours.
Gordon noticed the jacket was starting to feel a little tight, and wondered if he’d put on a little weight. Never mind, he’d get the tailor to let it out. Maybe go on a diet.
He tried to shrug the jacket off, but it was suddenly too tight to remove. Oh God, don’t let this be a heart attack. Rows of sweat popped out along his hairline as he undid his shirt buttons to get some air. Panic took hold as Gordon struggled to get out of his jacket, not even caring if the damned thing tore. He fell to the ground, unable to breathe.
The snakeskin squeezed tighter and Gordon felt his ribs slowly give way before loudly snapping. Blood forced its way up his throat and spewed out of his mouth, further choking him. He coughed some blood out, but found himself unable to draw a breath in.
He kicked and squirmed on the thick carpet, with no breath to even scream as the life was squeezed out of him. He heard his bones breaking, one after another, as the pressure became too great to bear; he felt his organs bursting like paper bags.
Gordon was grateful to finally die.
The police stood around Gordon’s body, scratching their heads over what could have possibly caused this man’s terrible death. It would forever remain a mystery.
Thousands of miles away, the full moon shone on god.
Hunter(Hazel Dow)
Dr Gordon Kennedy gazed in awe at the glorious beauty of the buck as it delicately sipped at the waterhole, its antlers spread magnificently above its majestic head. Gordon breathlessly raised the hunting rifle to his shoulder, his hands trembling with anticipation. The buck slowly steadied in his sights as he breathed steadily and focused. One shot, and the beautiful animal staggered and dropped to its knees in the mud. Another shot, and it fell heavily to one side, blood bubbling from its nose and mouth.
Gordon laughed and posed for pictures as his hunting guides congratulated him on such a fine kill. He was already imagining the buck’s head mounted on his wall amongst his other trophies, already rewriting the story in his head. This would become an adventure that would involve tracking the beast for miles in the unrelenting heat through the dangerous landscape. He toyed with the idea of defending himself against an attack, but decided that might be going overboard. Subtlety was the key to being believed.
Two months later saw Dr Kennedy hosting his own welcome back party. He was in his element as he proudly showed off his latest acquisition, his guests hanging onto every word of his imaginary exploits.
“You did an amazing job of preserving the head, how long did it take?”
Actually, it didn’t take him any time at all. Although he had some rudimentary skills as a taxidermist, he didn’t really have the stomach for handling his kills afterwards. He had people to do that, including a very talented and discreet taxidermist. He gazed with pride at the buck’s head. “I put some serious time and effort into it,” he said solemnly. “I take great pride in my work. If it’s worth doing, it’s worth doing properly.”
His guests nodded in admiration, and he took the opportunity to show off some of his other trophies.
The black bear that he had killed while it hibernated, the body rearranged for the photos to display its fearsome teeth and claws, then the carcass skinned and turned into a nice rug. The story underwent a similar transformation; his audience could barely believe he got out alive.
And of course the obligatory collection of large cats. The lions that had been killed while gathered at the drinking hole, the tigers shot while Gordon hid behind his guides or in a secure vehicle, and one jaguar that had the bad fortune to be caught sleeping in low branches. The stuffed reincarnations snarled and menaced Gordon’s awestruck audience and they marvelled at his courage as he shamelessly wove tales of facing down these charging killers as his men cowered behind him for protection.
He noticed one exotically attractive woman standing at the back, a glass of champagne in her hand. The expression on her face was hard to read, but Gordon felt uncomfortably exposed, as if she knew the truth and was secretly mocking him for it.
He excused himself and left his guests admiring a set of alligators which he had purchased from a gentleman in Florida; for an extra hundred bucks he also purchased the man’s silence.
The woman watched him approach, her beautiful face exquisitely expressionless.
They shook hands, and Gordon introduced himself. “Yes,” she said coolly. “I know who you are.” She paused. “My name is Lenore. I have a story you might enjoy, given your … interests.”
Gordon didn’t know what to make of this woman, but the feeling of being mocked grew stronger. He had the disconcerting feeling that she wasn’t at all impressed with his braggery and he felt surprisingly embarrassed, an emotion he hadn’t experienced in many years.
He led her over to the bar, and topped up both their glasses before they sat facing each other.
Lenore leaned forward, her dark eyes mesmerising. “I was a Christian missionary for many years,” she began. “I have seen many sights in my lifetime, some that elevated me and some that weighed me down in horror and darkness. I have saved the souls of many people in the most inhospitable and impenetrable parts of the world, and I have been shunned by many who would not hear the word of God. These souls will forever be lost to the likes of me.” She paused again, her eyes looking through Gordon into a past life in foreign lands.
“My last mission was in the deep jungles of Borneo. I had heard of a tribe who worshipped a pagan god, one represented by the largest snake since the beginning of time. A great python, hundreds of years old that was capable of eating a man whole. It was told that they would make human sacrifices to this beast, and in return it would leave their village be.
“They would not believe in the Christian God despite my best efforts. They could see their god, even touch it if they were brave enough. Their physical god was easier to believe in than one they couldn’t see and had never heard of before this strange white woman trespassed on them. Some of them tried, I guess, but they could never reconcile their beliefs with a God who didn’t demand sacrifice. And I could never reconcile my beliefs with their god who did. Until I saw it for myself.”
She leaned back and took a sip of her champagne, tilting her head back to look up at the ceiling. Stuffed eagles soared above them, suspended on thin wires.
The seconds ticked by. Gordon suspected that Lenore had forgotten he was there and he cleared his throat, reluctant to interrupt her memories but desperate to hear more of this great python.
“You really saw this thing for yourself?” he whispered in awe.
Lenore nodded and sighed. “Yes, it was a terrible sight to behold. My curiosity was nearly the death of me.” She swallowed, obviously reluctant to go on with her story and revisit that dreadful experience. “A sacrifice was made every full moon, usually orang-utans or other large monkeys, one of the big cats if they could be caught, the occasional rhino with its horn removed. Other times, someone from the village. A human being.” Tears glistened in her beautiful eyes. Gordon suspected a story behind the story, maybe someone she had gotten too close to, but he didn’t want to pry. And he needed to hear the end of the tale.
“They would tether the animal or human in a clearing half a mile or so from the village, and leave them to their fate. In the morning, there would be nothing left. No bones, no … body pieces. Nothing. Gone, as if they had never existed. It was forbidden to watch their god take the sacrifice, but I had to see it. I had to!” She looked at Gordon, and he nodded. He would have done the same.
“They sacrificed a man that I had become fond of. I still believe this is why he was chosen. My intent was to release him, save him, but I was too late. The moonlight made everything as bright as if it were daytime, and I had no problem finding the clearing. I could see my love standing there. I thought he was looking at me, then I heard a most dreadful sound. I looked, and I saw god. Its body stood as high as my shoulder and seemed to go on forever. It wrapped itself around my love and squeezed. I heard his bones snap as he was crushed to death. I saw him try to scream, but he had no breath. Then god raised its massive head and devoured him.
“I left that night. I didn’t go back to the village, I just left. I knew I would be next and I had no desire to die like that. Somehow, I made it home, I like to think with my God’s help. And here I am.”
Silence fell. Gordon went to the bar and brought back whiskey in two crystal tumblers. He found himself imagining this great beast occupying a position of honour somewhere in his collection. What a coup that would be!
Lenore effortlessly swallowed her whiskey and stood up. She handed Gordon a large plain envelope, turned and walked away without another word.
Gordon went back to his guests. His collection now seemed so tame, so incomplete. Covetousness burned in his soul. He somehow got through the rest of the evening before finally getting the privacy he craved. He felt Lenore had told him the story for a reason, maybe wanted him to avenge her lost love. He prayed the envelope contained information, and he breathed heavily as he extracted a map and two pages of a handwritten letter.
The map was circled, coordinates written in the margins. The letter contained detailed instructions of when and where he could find the beast.
He drank more whiskey and let his imagination run free. His dreams that night were filled with man-eating snakes, with guns that wouldn’t fire, with a deadly inability to run fast enough. He awoke the next morning tired and unrested, and made plans to travel to Borneo.
Gordon sweated and slapped at enormous mosquitos, and wondered at his desire to voluntarily be in this hell-hole. His body and clothing was constantly damp from the unrelenting humidity, and everything in the impenetrable forest wanted to eat him. He sprayed more insect repellent on his exposed skin, and heaved himself to his feet. His guides and bearers followed suit.
Gordon lumbered through the trees after his guides, marvelling at their ability to so effortlessly find their way through this mess with no landmarks or reference points. He knew he would be lost in seconds and dead in hours if they deserted him.
The full moon was due soon, they had to find the sacrificial clearing before then. He couldn’t imagine staying here until the next full moon.
Darkness was rapidly approaching, and the men made camp as best they could in the thick undergrowth. Gordon chewed unhappily on beef jerky and beans, and washed his modest meal down with tepid water. He had a flask of whiskey hidden on his person for later, which was some small consolation.
The next day proceeded in a similarly depressing fashion, and Gordon despaired of ever finding his prey. He trudged mindlessly through the miserable humidity, one foot after another, trusting his men to alert him to any danger. He didn’t even notice when they stopped, and he nearly knocked them over like little brown dominoes. The leader, Adam, looked at him and made shushing gestures, pointing through a gap in the trees.
Gordon moved quietly alongside Adam, and gazed in awe at the clearing just visible through the trees. A wooden pole stood solidly near the edge of the clearing, the broken remnants of either rope or maybe strong vines further proof that this was where the sacrifices were made.
They retreated a little into the forest, and made camp. Gordon prayed the sacrifice would be tonight, he couldn’t stand another day here. With nothing else to do, the group tried to catch some sleep.
Gordon was fast asleep when he felt something slither over his face and cover his mouth. He startled awake in horror, only to find himself looking into Adam’s suspiciously innocent face. He put a finger to his lips and gestured for Gordon to follow him.
The clearing was as light as day, the full moon hanging heavy and bright above. Half a dozen tribesmen forced a struggling victim into the clearing and swiftly tethered his feet to the wooden pole. His arms were tied behind him, leaving him completely helpless. Gordon felt a twinge of sympathy, and hoped they could kill his trophy before it killed another victim.
They waited patiently in the moonlight as the tribesmen scurried away. The victim sank heavily to his knees and bowed his head, perhaps in prayer.
Adam heard it first, and looked at Gordon in excited terror. Gordon looked to his left and saw the most magnificent creature he had ever seen. It wasn’t quite as big as Lenore had described it, but it was still enormous. It slid towards them, the thickest part of its body maybe as high as Gordon’s hips. Its beautiful skin shone and glimmered in the light. Gordon was gripped by a hungry desire to kill and possess, and he nodded at his men who darted towards the sacrifice. The bound man looked up in surprised gratitude as they cut his bonds and allowed him to escape into the forest.
The python hesitated and flicked its tongue before changing course and heading towards Gordon and his gang. Gordon stared in mesmerised horror as the beast came at him. Without thinking, he raised his rifle and took the best shot of his life. The bullet smashed through the python’s eye and into its brain; its mighty body flexed and writhed in magnificent death throes before it finally lay still.
Gordon handed a stick to Adam and motioned for him make sure the creature was truly dead. Adam promptly passed the stick to one of his men who had the misfortune to be standing nearby. Not wanting to look a coward in front of his compatriots, this brave soul tentatively approached the python and poked it with the stick. No response. The rest of the team surged forward and gathered around the body to take pictures. Gordon posed next to the head and then the highest part of the body, a foolish grin on his face as he cradled his rifle.
Once the photos were taken care of, Gordon directed his team to remove the python’s head and as much of the skin as possible. The heavy head was carefully placed in a crate packed with salt, then the crate was placed on a wooden stretcher. The skin was rubbed with salt, baled and secured with soft bindings. This was placed on another stretcher.
They didn’t know it yet, but they had made a fatal mistake. One that would soon cost lives.
Gordon felt the vibration through his shoes before he heard anything. Eight of his men had just left with their burdens, the rest of the group were chattering softly and gathering their belongings. One by one they froze and looked beyond Gordon into the trees. Gordon froze in abject fear as a creature out of his blackest nightmares came into view. Its head was the size of a car, followed by a mammoth body which curved endlessly into the clearing. Its deadly gaze fixed on the small group of men who were butchering one of its own. Gordon promptly soiled himself then collapsed in a dead faint, a move which most likely spared him the fate of many of his men.
The early morning sunlight was filtering through the green foliage when he awoke. Someone had pulled him into the shelter of the forest, and he could see five of his men crouched nearby. He found himself praying that the bearers got away with his precious trophies, and immediately hated himself.
Adam gave him the bad news over breakfast. Of the original twenty-five, there were only the five of them left, plus the eight that got away with the head and skin. The rest had been crushed or devoured. Gordon nodded and closed his eyes, he would see about compensating the families when this business was finished.
He didn’t remember much of the journey home, just snapshots in his head of slogging through the heat, of mosquitos droning around his head and savaging his exposed sweaty skin, of putting one foot in front of the other in a fog of misery. Then he was home again, his journey nothing more than a bad dream.
The python’s head was eventually returned to him, beautifully preserved and mounted. Gordon stared at it, wishing he’d bagged the monster snake instead of this inferior sized reptile. Maybe one day, when the horror and fear had been replaced with tales of adventure and heroism. When he could sleep without dreaming of being chased and devoured by a monster with blood on its breath. Maybe.
Gordon went to the bar for another drink and to admire himself in the full length mirror. His perfectly tailored snakeskin jacket was iridescent in the soft light. He turned this way and that, hypnotised by the glimmering colours.
Gordon noticed the jacket was starting to feel a little tight, and wondered if he’d put on a little weight. Never mind, he’d get the tailor to let it out. Maybe go on a diet.
He tried to shrug the jacket off, but it was suddenly too tight to remove. Oh God, don’t let this be a heart attack. Rows of sweat popped out along his hairline as he undid his shirt buttons to get some air. Panic took hold as Gordon struggled to get out of his jacket, not even caring if the damned thing tore. He fell to the ground, unable to breathe.
The snakeskin squeezed tighter and Gordon felt his ribs slowly give way before loudly snapping. Blood forced its way up his throat and spewed out of his mouth, further choking him. He coughed some blood out, but found himself unable to draw a breath in.
He kicked and squirmed on the thick carpet, with no breath to even scream as the life was squeezed out of him. He heard his bones breaking, one after another, as the pressure became too great to bear; he felt his organs bursting like paper bags.
Gordon was grateful to finally die.
The police stood around Gordon’s body, scratching their heads over what could have possibly caused this man’s terrible death. It would forever remain a mystery.
Thousands of miles away, the full moon shone on god.
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- 21
Lillian Kazmierczak
01/03/2022Hazel that was awesome! Seriously genius! I was so engrossed in that story I never saw the ending coming! you are a tad twisted...in a good way. Great story. Congratulations on short story star of the week!
ReplyHelp Us Understand What's Happening
Hazel Dow
01/04/2022Thanks Lillian, it was a great way to start the New Year! Glad you enjoyed the story :-)
Help Us Understand What's Happening
Kevin Hughes
01/03/2022Hazel,
If you can think up things like this story please remind me never to piss you off! Congrats on a well deserved Award and a heck of a read.
Smiles Kevin
Help Us Understand What's Happening
Hazel Dow
01/03/2022Haha thanks Kevin. As long as you don't go around killing stuff, we're all good :-D
Help Us Understand What's Happening
Bernardo Mendes
11/02/2021Congrats on this revenge tale Hazel! It was really engaging and the end extremely satisfying.
ReplyHelp Us Understand What's Happening
Help Us Understand What's Happening
Martha Huett
10/31/2021Remarkable, feel-good ending. Hazel, that was just fantastic! I love it! :)
ReplyHelp Us Understand What's Happening
Help Us Understand What's Happening
Tim Norland
10/31/2021I love a good revenge tale. And of course he was a doctor who liked to play god, then met one. Nice how that worked out. Another great story that really delivers the goods.
ReplyHelp Us Understand What's Happening
Help Us Understand What's Happening
JD
10/30/2021That was terrificly terrifying and totally tremendous, Hazel! Loved it. Superbly snaked tale that tantalizingly slithered through the readers imagination from beginning to end. The maliciously and deliciously deserved dreadful demise of your hunter was pure perfection. Outstanding horror story. Thanks for featuring it... obviously I missed it the first time and am so glad you shared it. What a great read! :-)
ReplyHelp Us Understand What's Happening
JD
10/31/2021I had great fun reading it! I think that if this story had just been written for the Hunting challenge, you would win it hands down. Absolutely superb! :-)
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