It was quite an interesting chain of events. Although I do believe working on the farm is much more suited to my liking than hunting animals in the wild. I imagined that farm work would be such an unwanted duty in comparison. However, labor upon a farm is desirable, more so when thoughts of chasing after footprints that may or may not lead to the anticipated animal are in question. I do not say this in any way to belittle my grandfather's selection for his own amusement. Nevertheless such a task does not dwell well with me. You see, on the farm I may speak to my fellow comradery as I exert my strength upon the soil.
Conversely, it is not so with hunting. It is important for both or all members to be quite still and quiet. Which is not something I am primarily accustomed to. I do at times need company as it is helpful in the efficacy of one's work. And yet, too much of it can at times cause one to be quite distracted. I have not as of yet proceeded upon any hunts that my grandfather has asked of me. He has often said that I would enjoy such an endeavor but as of yet, I do not see why I should. To run after some creature, then upon finding such a wretched thing and ending its life, it seems as if it were such a bore. I shall leave such nonsense to those who find gratification and purpose in such foolish things.
Even upon the homestead I do not necessarily enjoy the idea of killing any creature, as I do not like the thought of the blood of another being splattered upon one's skin. Granted, I do care for the succulent, end result of such practices. I shall not stoop to the level of a slaughterer and shall allow others to do it for me. Matter of fact, I have not, nor shall not take part in the contributions of any said animal or human. Tilling the ground, planting seeds and harvesting what has been wrought is enough for us and for whatever time I must spend here. In this I shall continue to labor. Enough of all that! It would be most expedient to speak on the efficacy of the hunt than my own thoughts of hunting at this time. I assure you it is not in any way something I would continue unless truly needed. Nonetheless, it did pique my interest ever so slightly.
It was a laborious task to mount such burdensome beasts, these stallions who trek halfway around the world to find these small ginger things similar to dogs. These others have named them foxes. A pest as they call them. Not a creature I have seen oft in present times, but I never imagined such creatures to be so beautiful. Not the creature itself, but their skins. It would be most rewarding to procure such a creature's fleece to use and guarantee much lucrative possibilities. But I digress! Upon reaching a field full of these foul creatures we released hounds that seemed quite pleasant to look upon. I believe these motley-colored things are called smell hounds, or that is what I believe they named these lovely beasts. A special breed in which some other thought would be best for the purpose of such an activity. They are lean but have a somewhat muscular body, not unlike the bulldog that is small in stature but has the body like that of a god of the old world.
I sometimes wonder if they were such things as gods and would they work to obtain such bodies or are they just formed this way from the day of birth. Artists have always depicted them as such, and it seems to be a great task to create such art upon one's own body. I could see how working with your hands may yield such results, but it is not in my interest to become as one who looked in such a way. Most men such as I am prone to a certain weight from the delicacies and fine things we eat. Granted my body does not seem to obtain such a figure. It has, as I have said earlier begun to mirror that of my other members within the household I reside in now.
Upon the release of these hounds, it was not to my surprise that barking and loud noise was heard in the distance. Of course, we rushed to the commotion quite promptly. And I found myself there first as I was used to riding horses, but may have tired this poor beggared out to the dismayed faces of their owners. It was not for me to care what happened to these beasts. They are beasts after all and should be used as such. These vicious, uncanny dogs had surrounded these vile creatures upon the outskirts of a clearing with great trees that towered over us.
I was disappointed when I found that it was for us to shoot these animals and choose to place my own weapon onto some hold of some sort strapped to my back. I would and shall not kill these creatures. If it were me, I would have told these imbecilic warts to obtain these creatures with their bare hands, but I guess lesser men love sports such as these. Not that it would not have led to these creature's deaths, but a much more humane way of killing them should be involved if possible. Even though they are living things and may not think the way humans do; they at times, I believe, deserve much better treatment than those of my own genome.
Upon the killing of these creatures, they were skinned on the spot and left for dead. Some appeared to have life in them as their fur was ripped from their bodies to my disgust. Never had I seen such barbarianism! Such savagery! Humans were truly a virus and a plague that needed to be eradicated from this earth. But let me tell you this. And it was not even my intention to mention this at any point and time as you may also find me insane. Even as I write it bothers me that such emotions could come about. And I do not wish to feel this way again.
You see, as these poisoned rats ripped the fur from the bodies of creatures before me, I also felt pain within my very core. As if my heart was laden with false gold and my stomach churned like that of butter. It was painful. Not the kind of pain that occurs from a physical injury per say but pain that develops deep inside. A feeling that I do not recall feeling at anytime. I remembered something. Although not to clear of my parents. Them leaving me. And I could feel something or other but could not for the life of me understand why it bothered me so. Neither could I remember any image. I just saw the images of these foxes, still squirming in agony as something beautiful that belonged only to them was stripped away. Vile humans. They, like the plague should be eradicated from the earth. I wish I had the means to kill ones such as these. I wonder if my mother and father have of yet returned from their paradise.
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How To Survive In A Dump: The Diary of Mr. Thaddeus
خيال (فانتازيا)His name is Mr. Thaddeus. A young man born into wealth and prestige writes of his experiences with those who now serve under him from his own unique perspective. One that he speaks on the greatness of his own estate and himself. That is until a ver...
