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#1 2011-02-20 12:31:03

wolfblood17
Member
From: Insane Asylum
Registered: 2009-04-14
Posts: 695

200 Feet

The hunter cursed the frozen air but watched in awe at the spectacle before him.  A polar bear was gracefully stalking it's way across the horizon.  It was a ghost along the dark grey sky and he was glad.  His right hand slowly inched along the stock and dipped a little to find the trigger guard.  The safety was already clicked on.  All he had to do was put it in his cross-hairs and click. 

    Samson shifted his legs the barest of centimeters until he was comfortable again.  The polar bear was a slowly moving target for now.  If he missed once it would reach great speeds be gone by the time he could chamber the next round.  His rifle was great but he wasn't the best hunter.  His father was excellent, if only the genes would be passed on to him. 

    A wind rose violently from the east and blew snow into his eyes.  Samson squinted and sneered against the cold bringing out frozen tears.  Pinpricks battered his cheeks and nose.  He was glad for the fuzzy hat atop his head.  The heavy bear fur parka flapped wildly but was pinned beneath his weight to keep his stomach moderately warm. 

    Heat of fear boiled his veins as the wind suddenly died down and was replaced by a howling.  There were no wolves this far north.  It was coming from in front of him and carrying loudly in the wind.  His prey jerked to a sudden stop and roared in response.  Rearing it's large head the polar bear charged forward.  Snow swiveled in a long tail from it's path.  Samson gasped from the sudden burst of movement. 

    It didn't look like it was anywhere near approaching him but the bear wasn't what spooked him.  It was what frightened the bear itself he was frightened of.  He didn't know what to do.  All he saw in his immediate vicinity was hard packed snow and ice with a dark grey sky.  Nothing else in this vast and barren wasteland.  Samson let out a plume of air as the howling returned. 

    Acting on an impulse of fear he quickly scrabbled for the radio attached to his chest.  He let the rifle set and gripped the radio with both hands.  Clicking the send button he spoke quietly but urgently.  "A-Bomb to D-Base come in, over."

    There was a loud burst of static and he glanced at the horizon in fear.  It would attract unwanted attention.  He'd have to make the talk fast.  Samson rotated the dial to lower the volume.  He hoped there wasn't anymore wind.  It would distract him from the already low voices. 

    Finally his mother came on.  "This is D-Base over," she said clearly over the radio.  He had to put it close to his ear to hear her. 

    A brief smile caught to his frozen cheeks.  "I think... I don't know..." he couldn't think of what to say.

    "What is it hon?  Over,"

    "There's something out here, over." he weakly mumbled. 

    "Can you repeat that?  Over,"

    "There's something out here with me.  Over," he said louder.  Samson glanced at the horizon and saw a huge shadow blacker than the sky itself looming about a hundred yards directly north of him.  It was much larger than a polar bear, he was sure of that. 

    Samson was panicking.  His heart was pounding furiously in his ears and he couldn't understand his mother's response. 

    "Can you repeat that?  Over," he asked.  Two red dots were floating within the midst of the shadow.  They bored into his own.  shite, he thought.  They were glowing like embers from a fire he wished he was sitting by now. 
    "Food, that's what's out there, over." his mom answered with a joyous. 

    Samson shook his head.  "Mom, please.  Something scared the shite out of the polar bear I was after. They don't have any natural enemies..." his voice trailed off.  Another howl curdled his bowels.  He held down the button and weakly stuck his hand out into the frozen air.

    There was a startled gasp from the other end and then static.  "Hang on hon, just a moment,â€

    Gritting his teeth, Samson muttered into the radio.  "Hurry,"

    If that thing wasn't so close he'd try to stand and run.  Whatever was slowly approaching him would catch a sudden deep interest in a closer and slower target.  The creature took slow and lumbering steps.

    "Samson," his father's voice shredded through the frozen air. 

    "Yeah dad?" he asked.  He wasn't worried about the "over" thing.  That wasn't needed at the time.

    "Stay as hidden as you can alright?  I'm headed over to where you are now.  We're going to have to break radio contact."

    "No, no please," he begged. 

    "It has to be done alright?  You're a big kid now." And then silence on the other end.  There was another howl.  Much closer now.  His heart almost stopped when he heard a different, higher pitched howl responding.  What were they?  A third and fourth much deeper howls responded from a separate direction. 

    Samson jerked his head to the right and saw a blur of white as the polar bear.  It was far away by now.  Where he should be.  His family was so low on food though he had no choice to hunt.  A bear's fur could be useful to as extra blankets. 

    Wanting to follow his father's orders, Samson shoved the ski mask quickly over his face.  And then he pushed his nose flat against the ice.  His parka hood had flipped over the hat when he dipped his head down. 

    Samson inhaled a massive lungful of air and held it tightly.  If he breathed a plume of white steam may be easily visible to that thing.  No more attention needed to attracted towards his prone form.  The crushing pressure against his lungs between the snow and... his pack.  Whimpering silently, he roved his eyes upward and almost died of fright on the spot. 

    The creature was already much closer.  It had gained speed and he could see it's long legs bulging with each plunge into the snow.  Heavy puffs of ghostly blue expelled from an invisible mouth with each quick breath.  It must have been panting like a dog.  Forty-eight yards away.  Those demonic red eyes grew larger with every step. 

    Could it possibly be a werewolf?  The closer it came to him with those slow steps; the more he thought it was in fact a werewolf.  A pack of them.  Maybe it was hunting season... He considered running now, the more he gazed into those coals from Hell.

    Stopping, the werewolf loomed high above on both legs and sniffed the air with wet puffs.  Samson could even hear the creature's breathing from where he was.  Fifteen yards of frozen air acting as a weak barrier between beast and man.  It didn't seem like the werewolf was deterred by the icy ground thought.  He stared back into the ice and was only glad of the brief warmth.

    He waited and heard the violent heaves of air.  The black claw of a shaggy paw materialized in his vision.  It was long and jagged at the tip for tearing.  And then the paw uncurled into a hand.  Five separate bony fingers gripped a padding of snow for purchase.  Nausea rolled thickly in his throat as a wave of hot rancid breath plumed moist particles into his face.

    There was a deep growl and a sucking of air.  It was a great few seconds- the werewolf had massive lungs.  Freezing winds definitely wouldn't be an issue for it; but Samson couldn't handle much of it.  Within a few feet of running he would be on the ground wheezing painfully for breath- it was that cold.  Should he even bother try to make a run for it?  Maybe it would leave if it thought he was dead. 

But this isn't a damn grizzly!

    Samson lay as still as he could while staring at the ground.  The wind was still brushing it lightly up his nose with sharp pricks.  He didn't want to look up.  A loud scraping sound etched and tingled down his spine.  The werewolf was dragging the rifle along the ground.  Seconds later the sound vanished and a sharp crack replaced it.  "shite," Samson mouthed silently to the bitter snow.

    His only real useful weapon, the rifle, was just snapped in half.  He didn't dare look up at the full beast.  The resulting gasp would attract the attention of this seemingly starving beast.  The only other weapons he had on him were serrated hunting knife and flare gun with three capsules.  Neither were in positions of easy access right now.

    The blade was resting along his right thigh while the capsules and flare bulged in the backpack.  It was lifted. 
His lungs grasped desperately for air when a thick pressure prodded at his lower spine.  Was the werewolf stepping on him?  If so; the foot was nearly a half size larger than a normal human's.  How could he possibly save himself?

    Samson thought startling the beast would just piss it off.  “Get.  Up.†the beast ordered in a strangled and deep voice.  It didn't sound evil, but it must have been hard for the werewolf to speak.

     The werewolf didn't think Samson moved fast enough and pulled him by the shoulders.  He couldn't help but scream in fear as he was lifted a few inches above the ground.  Smelly fibers tickled his nose hairs as the werewolf pulled the ski mask off.  All Samson could see was coarse gray fur.  Ice bit at his cheeks with unmeasurable fury. 

     His father was coming for him though.  The werewolf needed to leave; fast.  “Are you gonna eat me?†Samson asked.     

     It shook a lupine head.  The werewolf was virtually harmless.  “No.  Keep warm.  Move.†Samson had to look up; he only reached the werewolf's chest. 

     He was completely confused.  Go where?  Why should he trust this thing?  “You destroyed my stuff!†he yelled.

     The werewolf's ear jowls lifted in a whine of pain.  “Silence.â€


big_smile (with fangs!)

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#2 2011-02-23 00:36:32

mrRW
Member
Registered: 2009-12-01
Posts: 127

Re: 200 Feet

I like the beginnings of this story.  Some definite grammatical work is needed but the story line has great tension and leaves the reader wanting more.

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#3 2011-02-24 04:57:55

wolfblood17
Member
From: Insane Asylum
Registered: 2009-04-14
Posts: 695

Re: 200 Feet

Thanks for the feedback!  I'll get  better


big_smile (with fangs!)

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