Ever since I was a boy I knew what my future would hold for me. It’s the right thing to do. I like to think of myself as Batman. A man of the shadows who fights crime when no one can even figure out who he is. He was always my favorite superhero. Anyhow, ever since the day, I vowed a promise I kept to this day so that my Rose and all her other friends would live a happy comfortable life here in the woods.
I remember that day like it was last week. There was a little, tiny deer leaning against a tree in the backyard. Her leg was cut open cleanly. The blood filled in puddles around the injured fawn. The moment I saw her, I knew that she needed help. So I stitched the wound up on her leg and took care of her. My dog, Sammael, I noticed had blood in her mouth. The deer, Rose I named her, was scared of the dog. And well, Rose couldn’t live in my house with fear. I shot the dog that night and buried Sammael deep in the woods. My parents thought she was missing and searched for him everywhere. Oh well. Two weeks after healing the baby Rose, she ran off in the woods. I searched for her more than I have searched for anything. I came across her body in the woods behind my house where a hunter must have shot her. There was a bullet wound straight through her chest and blood was everywhere. And ever since that day I have vowed to kill every single hunter in these woods.
I now live in the woods with my .338 Winchester Rifle. I treasure that gun. My home is just a small shack smack in the middle of hunting territory. No one lives with me because I feel pressured talking to people. I am very shy. I like to keep to myself because I feel safer. I do go into town every once in a while to buy a new pair of blue jeans, a camo jacket, and some ammo. I also always wear my Batman hat too. It’s my favorite hat that I bought from a toy store a couple years back. I hate going into town, people bother me.
Like just the other week I went into town and an old guy from my school called out at me, “Luke Marshall is that you? Boy, I haven’t seen you since we were little kids. How have you been?”
“Alright,” I’d mumble.
“We should go get a beer one day and catch up,” he said in his happy voice.
“I don’t drink,” I uttered.
“Boy, you were always so quiet. I see nothing has changed. You grew a lot that’s for sure, what are you 6’2?” he’d ask.
“Sounds about right,” at this point even he could tell I was about ready to leave. And I was. After that I walked off and then straight out of town.
The people of this town are awful. They all hunt in these woods, no matter how many of hunters I kill. You’d think they would learn by now that hunting is wrong, especially in this forest. It’s alright, I’ll teach them a lesson myself if they don’t want to learn themselves.
I remember my first kill very clearly. After I built up my shack I heard of some noises by the creek. So I took my rifle and followed the voices until I saw two men with guns taking a drink of water after the snow melt. They looked old, experienced. They both wore their camo suits with boots up to their knees. They were dirty, like they’ve been out here a while. I took the rifle and pointed the crosshairs on the man to the left filling his cup with fresh water. The voices in my head told me to stop. I realized that I need to learn how the hunters hunt and I would stalk them. That’s what I like to do. Stalk them. Learn what they like to do, where they like to go. Until I have them cornered. Anyhow, I followed them for two days until they set up camp next to a cave. One of them went to take a piss and that was the last of his life. He was an easy target so after he was done with his business I went up to him face to face.
“Oh shoot, you scared me there sir. Um can I help you?” the man said zipping up his pants.
I didn’t even speak to him. I took my knife and finished him. He let out a scream and got the other guy on his feet. I walked up to their camp and saw the other guy. I pointed my rifle.
“Sir what are you doing? Are you mad?” this hunter yelled.
“There is no need to yell.” I hate when they yell.
“Why are you doing this? I don’t even know you sir. What did I ever do to you?” he screamed at me.
I give them the same answer every time. “You hunt deer for fun, even though a deer can’t defend themselves. So now I get to hunt you, it’s only fair.
I like to leave their remains on the floor of the forest. The wolves like the taste of human flesh. When I lay in bed I hear them howling at night.
Well anyways, I had a good run of about fourteen years, killing the hunters in these woods that came to an end. The police found my cabin and bombarded it with their rifles and such. I didn’t put up any fight, even though I could’ve. The voices said to stop. They took me to this rotting prison and said I’d be here for the rest of my life. And now I sit here and write these letters to myself because I have no one to talk to. My body eats itself from the inside out, knowing I can’t protect Rose from inside this place.
But it’s not fair, Batman never was arrested for doing good, so why should I?
I remember that day like it was last week. There was a little, tiny deer leaning against a tree in the backyard. Her leg was cut open cleanly. The blood filled in puddles around the injured fawn. The moment I saw her, I knew that she needed help. So I stitched the wound up on her leg and took care of her. My dog, Sammael, I noticed had blood in her mouth. The deer, Rose I named her, was scared of the dog. And well, Rose couldn’t live in my house with fear. I shot the dog that night and buried Sammael deep in the woods. My parents thought she was missing and searched for him everywhere. Oh well. Two weeks after healing the baby Rose, she ran off in the woods. I searched for her more than I have searched for anything. I came across her body in the woods behind my house where a hunter must have shot her. There was a bullet wound straight through her chest and blood was everywhere. And ever since that day I have vowed to kill every single hunter in these woods.
I now live in the woods with my .338 Winchester Rifle. I treasure that gun. My home is just a small shack smack in the middle of hunting territory. No one lives with me because I feel pressured talking to people. I am very shy. I like to keep to myself because I feel safer. I do go into town every once in a while to buy a new pair of blue jeans, a camo jacket, and some ammo. I also always wear my Batman hat too. It’s my favorite hat that I bought from a toy store a couple years back. I hate going into town, people bother me.
Like just the other week I went into town and an old guy from my school called out at me, “Luke Marshall is that you? Boy, I haven’t seen you since we were little kids. How have you been?”
“Alright,” I’d mumble.
“We should go get a beer one day and catch up,” he said in his happy voice.
“I don’t drink,” I uttered.
“Boy, you were always so quiet. I see nothing has changed. You grew a lot that’s for sure, what are you 6’2?” he’d ask.
“Sounds about right,” at this point even he could tell I was about ready to leave. And I was. After that I walked off and then straight out of town.
The people of this town are awful. They all hunt in these woods, no matter how many of hunters I kill. You’d think they would learn by now that hunting is wrong, especially in this forest. It’s alright, I’ll teach them a lesson myself if they don’t want to learn themselves.
I remember my first kill very clearly. After I built up my shack I heard of some noises by the creek. So I took my rifle and followed the voices until I saw two men with guns taking a drink of water after the snow melt. They looked old, experienced. They both wore their camo suits with boots up to their knees. They were dirty, like they’ve been out here a while. I took the rifle and pointed the crosshairs on the man to the left filling his cup with fresh water. The voices in my head told me to stop. I realized that I need to learn how the hunters hunt and I would stalk them. That’s what I like to do. Stalk them. Learn what they like to do, where they like to go. Until I have them cornered. Anyhow, I followed them for two days until they set up camp next to a cave. One of them went to take a piss and that was the last of his life. He was an easy target so after he was done with his business I went up to him face to face.
“Oh shoot, you scared me there sir. Um can I help you?” the man said zipping up his pants.
I didn’t even speak to him. I took my knife and finished him. He let out a scream and got the other guy on his feet. I walked up to their camp and saw the other guy. I pointed my rifle.
“Sir what are you doing? Are you mad?” this hunter yelled.
“There is no need to yell.” I hate when they yell.
“Why are you doing this? I don’t even know you sir. What did I ever do to you?” he screamed at me.
I give them the same answer every time. “You hunt deer for fun, even though a deer can’t defend themselves. So now I get to hunt you, it’s only fair.
I like to leave their remains on the floor of the forest. The wolves like the taste of human flesh. When I lay in bed I hear them howling at night.
Well anyways, I had a good run of about fourteen years, killing the hunters in these woods that came to an end. The police found my cabin and bombarded it with their rifles and such. I didn’t put up any fight, even though I could’ve. The voices said to stop. They took me to this rotting prison and said I’d be here for the rest of my life. And now I sit here and write these letters to myself because I have no one to talk to. My body eats itself from the inside out, knowing I can’t protect Rose from inside this place.
But it’s not fair, Batman never was arrested for doing good, so why should I?