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= F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. =
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A Story
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A gentle chirp from a bird above, woke me. Looking out, I saw the grass was
nice and high, up around me. Not wanting to get up, or move too quickly, I
was comfortable and cozy in my little bed. Hearing the rustle of the leaves,
and seeing a few flutter down before, I realize a new day has risen, and I
need to as well.
Stretching, I extend my legs, one at a time, and yawn. Twitching my ears,
adjusting to noises around me. Crushing of leaves, I smell the air, the
evil one is near. Hearing the cocking of the gun, and hearing the swoosh
of the jacket, he is ready to shoot.
Suddenedly, springing up from where I once was comfortable, I leap up and
over the nice thick grass, as I see a bullet fly right past me on my left.
Hopping more quickly now, I dive into a pile of leaves, and bury myself
deeper and deeper, finding myself next to the root of a tree, I hear him walk
past, not knowing for sure where I am, since the grass is high and the leaves
are many.
'That was close. Too close.', I thought. After several hours, and many
others passing, I decide it is all right for me to approach what I had
counted on for breakfast, now the sun was lower in the sky, though on the
other side. Nighttime was beginning ...
Hunting season. They come, to find us, shoot us, eat us or make something of
us, when we have never done anything wrong to them. Sometimes, they have
even planted gardens for us to feed upon, or teased us with their vegetables -
only to get us to trust them, and then kill us. There are those that are
trapped in farms, where it is said you go to a place and are in heaven,
though are not free to chase. What is a worse prison?
Looking around, I hear something coming, hopping out of its way, it is only
a deer. It too, is hiding from the hunters fire. Just then, as it dove past
me, a bullet I heard, flying at me, aimed for the deer, who just passed me.
Before, I could move, I was hit. The pain went right through me, as a sudden
sinking feeling came over me.
Falling to the ground, the hunter runs away, realizing he had not hit the
deer he found another one to chase afterwards. The deer comes out of hiding
and sniffs me, nudging me to see if I am all right. As I pass away, a
question springs to mind, "Why must I die, just for what I am?", at that
the last breath of life escaped me, I lay my head down, and accept my
death.
- Kamira
kamiraj@hotmail.com
www.sekurity.org/~kamira
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