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Shooters of the Woods

It was early in the morning and I have been here for hours and hours just watching them shoot bird, it must really fascinate me. One of the shooters pulls out a golden pocket watch to look at the time, I stare at it day-dreamily as it glimmers and shines brightly in the sun, it reminds me of my great grandfathers’ pocket watch.

I get startled and awoken from my daydream by the birds screeching with terror and fright. Nearby I can see a wild wolf hungry and desperate for meat, chasing a deer. Deep blood smells fill the air as more birds and deer’s die.

It is absolutely amazing here but I wish I could take part in it and not just hide and watch everything behind a tree all the time. But that’s all I can do since I don’t belong here.

Now going deeper into the forest there is a pure and clean flowing stream. I get rather surprised by my own reflection, dirty and muddy skin, ragged and filthy clothes, black as night and holey, dirty socks, old hard boots as if two sizes too small, I can feel the terrible, constant pain going up and down me. As I clench tight in my hands my mattered, old, stitched up, missing-eyed teddy. And this is all I have, all I can cope with, as I stand in this forest which I don’t even know.


Lila Melnykevicova

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