This was my creative writing piece and my figurative writing piece. I wrote about a hunt from the perspective of the hunter, and the frustration of a failed hunt.
Dawn, -5 degrees, and suspended in a tree. To most people, this not a place they would like to be. But this is just where I like to be. From dawn to dusk, I sit, motionless, in the pattern of a tree. It takes some of the most skillful eyes to spot me, and if anything spots me, it's too late.
As I sit, I hear the faint crunching of leaves, that seems to be coming toward me. After a few moments of the sound growing more intense by the second, I spot it; a 10 point white tail dear. "Finally, this is what i have been waiting for." As I raise my rifle, and aim, I mouth a small prayer, and ready myself to fire. Finally, it has entered a clearing, and I have a perfect shot. I aim, and pull the trigger... "CLICK!" No bullet fired. I had felt like I had almost won the lottery, but found out that it was just another number. At the sound of that, the deer and I lock eyes. We can almost read each other's thoughts. Then it happens, it runs away, into the thick underworld of the forest, never to be seen again.
