The man decided to go over the snowy mountaintops into the desolate valley landscape just beyond the tree line. He walked his way to the valley and prepared his rifle. He knew this was the place. The man saw a river flowing straight through the heart of the valley and walked up to it. The water was crystal clear, as it just came down from the snow melt of the snow mountains above. He looked down into the river and watched its reflection ripple in between the pattern of the ever flowing river. He gouged some water in which he cupped through his rugged hands. Then he glanced into the valley, and was stopped by the sight of a life time. It looked like he stared into the face of god himself. Standing there was the mystical creature he came to see. Sipping water from the same river as he was.
The man was in pure awe as the moment seized his ability to move. The animal looked back from drinking a gulp of water, staring into the soul of the man. The man stood up as he came back to reality, reaching for his rifle beside him. He lifted his weapon at the harmless creature, the crosshairs aimed straight for the heart. The animal looked as if it were unable to move, as if he knew his last breath was upon him. The man hesitated for a moment, it’s almost like he took a second glance into the creature and seen good. But the man’s heart was set for evil. At a moment’s notice the man moved his fore finger an inch towards his body, at which sending a projectile straight through the heart of this beast. The animal was jolted backwards but remained on his feet, not moving. Then the animal took three short strides forward until collapsing onto the cold ground. The man stood with this rifle, still looking through the crosshairs even though he would be able to see without the gun. Then he put his rifle down and reached reality. The man made his way to the carcass, laying on the floor. He crossed the icy river but which in no way fazed him. He approached the animal and took a knee, like kneeling to a statue worshiping the gods. Then he put his weapon of choice on the floor and put his hand on the red velvet fur of the animal.
Then he bowed his head and a tear escaped his eye. The tear ran across the man’s freckled face and onto the animal at which he just disposed of. The tear fell into a pool of blood, mixing the DNA of the two animals. What the man may or may not have realized was he had just killed the last of the Tasmanian Tigers. There will never be one to walk on this earth ever again. And whether he did realize it or not, he had changed the course of history. After kneeling for what seemed an hour he stood up and looked down on the dead body. He then grabbed the body and dragged it towards the water in which they drank just moments before. Grabbing his rifle on the floor, he made his way across the desolate landscape, through the tree line, and back over the mountaintops. Not once, did he look back.
The man was in pure awe as the moment seized his ability to move. The animal looked back from drinking a gulp of water, staring into the soul of the man. The man stood up as he came back to reality, reaching for his rifle beside him. He lifted his weapon at the harmless creature, the crosshairs aimed straight for the heart. The animal looked as if it were unable to move, as if he knew his last breath was upon him. The man hesitated for a moment, it’s almost like he took a second glance into the creature and seen good. But the man’s heart was set for evil. At a moment’s notice the man moved his fore finger an inch towards his body, at which sending a projectile straight through the heart of this beast. The animal was jolted backwards but remained on his feet, not moving. Then the animal took three short strides forward until collapsing onto the cold ground. The man stood with this rifle, still looking through the crosshairs even though he would be able to see without the gun. Then he put his rifle down and reached reality. The man made his way to the carcass, laying on the floor. He crossed the icy river but which in no way fazed him. He approached the animal and took a knee, like kneeling to a statue worshiping the gods. Then he put his weapon of choice on the floor and put his hand on the red velvet fur of the animal.
Then he bowed his head and a tear escaped his eye. The tear ran across the man’s freckled face and onto the animal at which he just disposed of. The tear fell into a pool of blood, mixing the DNA of the two animals. What the man may or may not have realized was he had just killed the last of the Tasmanian Tigers. There will never be one to walk on this earth ever again. And whether he did realize it or not, he had changed the course of history. After kneeling for what seemed an hour he stood up and looked down on the dead body. He then grabbed the body and dragged it towards the water in which they drank just moments before. Grabbing his rifle on the floor, he made his way across the desolate landscape, through the tree line, and back over the mountaintops. Not once, did he look back.