He woke up from his slumber and he knew what day it was. It was the day he looked forward to every year. The excitement he felt ran through his body like getting a taser hit right in his face, but in an enjoyable way, like pushing on a bruise. The alarm came on with a radio station and it seemed as if it was in a movie the way it came on. It came on and the announcer said "It's Monday morning. The weather is nice and bright outside. We've got a high temperature of about seventy-five degrees fahrenheit and a low of sixty-three degrees fahrenheit. We've got Lynyrd Skynyrd's 'They Call me the Breeze' for the nice, breezy, sunny weather, right here on Tickfaw's own 93.2 WBNC."
He got out of bed, brushed his teeth, put on his clothes, and made a cup of coffee with his coffee machine that had a timer that made the coffee brew before he got up. He walked out of the house. He went back into the house because he forgot his wallet.
Thinking back he wasn't sure if his driver's license was in there so he opened it up and saw it in there. His name Eugene Allman was nicely placed on his license. His picture always dissatisfied him, although he never met someone who was satisfied with their picture.
His guns and tent was loaded up in the truck. He was well equipped for his hunting trip. This was his sport. He often felt that hunting should be America's pastime. People often disagreed with him hunting. They said that he never needs to kill them and that doing it for fun was barbaric. He just brushed them off because he felt they never understood because they didn't understand. They never went hunting. They only thought about the concept and formed an opinion without trying it out. This doesn't make them wrong, but it also doesn't make them right because they never got firsthand experience and just made assumptions. They were as right as Eugene was.
Mr. Allman was driving through the woods when he saw a deer crossing the road ahead. The deer was miraculous. It was the biggest deer he ever set his eyes on. "Hot dog! I'm not even at the camp and I already bagged myself a deer." thought Eugene. He sped up in an attempt to hit and kill the unsuspecting deer, but the size of the deer strongly contributed to his strength and it was able to make it away before the truck was able to hit him. Eugene got out of the truck and tried to shoot it, but by the time he was out of the truck with his rifle the deer was gone.
A discouraged Eugene drove the rest of the way to his camp. It was night time by the point he made it to his cabin. He unloaded everything, the whole time thinking about the deer that got away. He never had much he cared about other than hunting. Sure, he had a job, but it was nothing he was specifically excited about. He was a banker. All he did was crunch numbers all day and except for the occasional robbery drill he was bored out of his mind.
Girls in his life had come and went. He never felt any strong attachment to any of them. He always felt they were a bit inferior. Agreeing with them was hard for him most of the time. They were always irrational in his eyes. Talking was never one of his strong suits anyways. He always enjoyed being silent and alone. Hence hunting was his sport of choice.
The night went by slow. His anticipation for the upcoming day and opportunity for redemption was keeping him from sleeping although he did fall asleep eventually.
Eugene woke up and felt crusty and gross, but he forced himself out of bed before the sun did. In a haste, he skipped shaving his face. He started to make eggs for himself. He looked in his cabin fridge and was happy to see that he had three eggs. He would even gloated about it if given the opportunity because it was the only thing he felt like he could boast about lately. He gladly stated to himself that he had three eggs and in mid-sentence dropped and broke one.
In a depressive manner he cleaned and cooked and headed out to his deer stand. On the way there he saw a tree that seemed to have been blown down by some hurricane or something, a gloomy and cloudy sky, and the rotting corpse of a parakeet. He found the most latter strange because that specific bird is usually kept as a pet and it must've been a pet that was loved by someone. He looked around in an attempt to see the owner. He figured the attempt was futile by he felt compelled to do it anyways.
His deer stand felt cozy. It felt right. Just something about it made him feel at ease. He looked down at the field directly in front of him and pondered how many deer have went through there. He always wished he could manage to kill each one of those magnificent beasts, but he understood that that was impossible. The regret he felt from not killing the deer from the night before ate at him. It just added to the weight of not being able to kill every other deer.
The day went by slow. The sun seemed to just take its time moving across the sky. He started to feel uneasy. It was conflicting for him because he always associated his time in his deer stand with peace and tranquility and now he couldn't even sit comfortably. His hunting trip just changed for the worse without any actual specific event happening.
His day went on. He saw deer, but none worth shooting. Eugene even played a game with himself to pass the time of counting the birds that flew by.
All of a sudden his gloominess was replaced by excitement and wonder. He couldn't believe his eyes. Right before him stood a deer of massive proportions. A deer that was so massive he had to come to the conclusion it was the same deer as the one from the night before. It was as possible as any coincidence, but at the same time it was awe-inspiring.
Eugene had little hesitation to grab his gun and fire. He saw the deer drop and at the very same instance felt redeemed.
His walk to the deer was a victory march, but was stopped in his tracks when he saw no wound or blood. He looked the deer over. Looked at his entire body. Couldn't find anything that indicated a death by injury, not even a scar from a fight with other deers.
The deer was even more beautiful up close. Eugene was amazed. He didn't know how he did it, but he managed to take the deer down to the ground. He figured it must've been shocked by the bullet going off and suffered a heart attack.
In an excitement he turned around to grab his gear so he could bag up the deer and carry him back to camp. He took a step, but was stopped. There was a force from behind that knocked his breath out. It hurt more than anything he ever felt. Even stranger, he felt more confused than in pain.
Eugene looked down to see his hands covered in blood. He gasped for breath, but no oxygen found its way to his lungs. He heard the silent breaths of the deer behind him, its antlers were in the hunter's back. The deer released the man by pulling his antlers out and the hunter fell to the ground. Darkness covered his vision and the man was dead.
