I shivered. The moor was cold and damp on this February morning. The fog was thick and clung to my hair, my face, my clothes. I wiped my dewy glasses and stretched my aching limbs. I'd been hiding behind this tree for far too long.

I heard a crack.

I eased myself up, cursing my poor old back all the while, and raised my weapon of choice. I lined up my 'scope, taking a deep breath and smiling with satisfaction as the proud head came into focus.

Old Braveheart I called him. I knew it was a cliche but since no-one else knew my nickname for this king of beasts I didn't care. He was old but still a formidable fighter. I'd seen him fight off three young bucks earlier in the season. He still held sway over a large group of females.

"You've still got it old boy," I muttered, thinking of him and me both.

I squared my shoulders and balanced myself, reaching for my trigger without losing sight of my prey.

I squeezed.

Yes. A beautiful photograph of a beautiful animal in his natural habitat. The stag, the king of beasts.

And I'd bagged him.


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Gone Awry over 13 years ago

Very good. So full of emotion. It is like you actually have a connection with this *king of the beasts!*

Gone Awry over 13 years ago

Wait, you are an author! Can you give me some pointers. I am thinking of publishing some fantasy myself!

primortia (joined over 13 years ago)
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My first novel, Primortia, is available to buy from Lulu and Amazon.

I've been living and breathing science fiction for over twenty years. I've been involved in many fandoms from Doctor Who to steampunk but I've always wanted to create my own sandbox to play in. The world of Primortia is the first of my own worlds to reach fruition.

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monologue observation


nature first person


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