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Tom
Author:
Michael Kelso PM
A life hangs in the balance.
Rated: Fiction T - English - Horror/Suspense - Words: 491 - Reviews: 2 - Favs: 1 - Published: 11-10-11 - Status: Complete - id: 2969258
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Tom is breathing hard, hiding behind the biggest tree he can find. He is shaking all over.

'This can't be happening.' He thinks, 'Why is someone trying to kill me?'

He peeks around the tree…nothing. No movement, no sound except the wind pushing

dead leaves around.

Not seeing his attacker makes Tom's panic escalate. He doesn't dare try to make it home,

or even to better cover without knowing where the threat is. He waits for what seems like

an eternity. Every moment making him that much more afraid.

'Did I miss it?' He thought, 'Did it sneak around behind me? Is it creeping up on me right

now?'

Tom whips around…nothing, only trees, lots of trees. And then he hears it. It is faint, but

it's enough to give him a direction. He can hear slow, methodical, footsteps crunching

dead leaves. He works up the nerve to peek around the tree. Tom looks in the direction

he'd heard the footsteps. At first nothing seems out of place, then a small piece of forest

moves. Not like a tree swaying, but like someone has cut out a section of forest and gave

it a will of its own. Tom freezes.

'This is all wrong.' He thinks, transfixed by this apparition.

The piece of forest moves closer, but not directly toward him. It continues to advance, as

Tom focuses on staying as still as possible. The apparition passes by, six feet away. Tom

remains as still as a statue. As it passes by, Tom notices it is in the shape of a man. Then

he sees the small orange rectangle in the middle of the man's back.

'Oh no!' Tom thought. 'It must be November!'

Tom isn't sure what makes the hunter turn around, but he seems to be just as surprised at

finding his prey standing beside a tree, ten feet away. Time seems to slow as things

happen so quickly.

The hunter brings his shotgun around at the same time Tom starts running.

The first blast merely nicks Tom, but does no real damage.

The second blast hits Tom squarely in the back, but his actions are fueled by panic now.

He rolls, changes direction, and keeps running. Tom spots a small ditch and runs toward

it for cover. Just before he gets there, the third blast rips through the back of his neck,

severing his spine.

Tom tumbles to the ground, flopping uncontrollably. By the time the hunter gets there,

the ground is covered with blood and feathers. Tom's life has already left him as quickly

as the blood flowed from his body.

The hunter picks him up by the legs, hefts Tom over his shoulder, and starts walking.

Feeling the weight of the bird he is carrying, the hunter says,

"You're a big boy, aren't you? Looks like it's gonna be a very Happy Thanksgiving."

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