Creative Writing: The Hunter

As the breeze floated through the canopy, the forest’s quiet was broken by rustling branches and frantic leaves. When the wind died so did the sound, and the forest returned to it’s ghostly silence. For a wooded place, usually full of life thrumming together as one both day and night, this silence was abnormal. It was foreboding, and even in the light of day the woods were cold and dark, as if the sun’s rays could not pierce the leafy canvas as it had in the past. The air was heavy and threatening, with no animals in sight. It was as if there had been an exodus of all creatures, from smallest insect to largest beast, and none had remained. Wandering through a thicket, the hunter felt unnerved as every primal instinct urged him to run. He was a seasoned visitor to this forest, explorer of it’s secrets for decades, but today it was a different, silent world. It was as if a long-time friend had become a total stranger. The hunter stepped on a stray tree branch, his first misstep in almost half a century. The sound
The hunter cowered behind a large oak, stricken with fear by this otherworldly noise. It was unnatural, from no creature of this earth be they man or beast. Though it faintly sounded human, it echoed with haunting notes, as if it’s owner was facing and enduring the worst forms of torture. The man held his head and clenched his teeth as he fought through the noise, but it pierced his skull and stabbed his brain. The howl seemed to go on for hours, far longer than any natural creature. When it finally stopped, the hunter staggered to his feet. Stumbling forward, he fell into a large patch of vines and ivy, becoming quickly ensnared in the foliage. Pulling his long knife from its sheath, he started hacking at the entangling vegetation before he saw something in the distance moving towards him. He froze in his been trap, hiding his knife behind his left