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The following was written from a writing prompt of my own, as part of an offer I made on Jan 17, 2014. This story is for Jen Heater.

Ghost Hunters

They were out together in the morning ground fog, attired in orange vests and hats, as they had been at this time of year for longer than either of them could remember. It was deer season and they were quite intent on meeting their quota this year. It didn’t really matter to them that they could not eat all of their kill themselves – somebody would eat it, they were sure.

The hills and paths were so familiar, as if they had gone down them a thousand times or more. It was one of their favorite parts of this neck of the woods – nothing ever seemed to change. They took that as proof that the hunting permit process was not overdoing it. They took the winding path down beside the stream to their artificial blind. They were surprised to find a couple other men already there, dressed in somewhat oddly styled clothing, though still in orange. The trespassers had only cameras, no rifles.

Because the goal was to be quiet, so as to avoid startling the deer, rather than calling out they continued down the path to the blind. By the time they got there the other men had moved elsewhere. This was more than fine with them! They hunched behind the rocks, sitting on a pair of conveniently placed stumps and waited. Smugly, one observed that they must be getting better at bundling up, because despite the obvious chill in the air, their extremities were not really even feeling cold.

The wait was longer than they expected, but they were pretty sure they would be rewarded for their patience. The rumor they’d heard at one point was that there was a 12 point buck in these woods and neither could remember anybody’s bragging that they had nailed it. They were mostly silent, looking outward from their rock. After more than a little while, one of them – they could never agree on which it had been – motioned to the northeast. There, much to their amazement, was an incredible white tail buck. His antler spread must have been at least 40 and quite possibly 50 – he was not holding still and it made it harder to count. After they shut their mouths, they went about making sure they could shoot him cleanly.

Off to their left, a small noise briefly caught the beast’s attention and theirs as well. It was the other hunters, but their target seemed to be over the west ridge. Soon everybody had settled back down. They would take turns, the 2nd shooter only firing if the first missed for some reason or did not get a clean hit. Tense. Waiting. Gently squeezing the trigger and a loud noise! The buck, untouched, ran off to the side a bit, but not far. The other shot his gun, less than 20 feet away, but the buck was still untouched. It did run off and seemed to fade into the mist that had gathered in the gully.

More than a little perturbed, they went to track it, only to see no tracks. A shudder.

“Ya’ suppose that’s the ghost of a great buck, rather than a live one?” “Couldn’t say, but I sure have no good explanation for it!” They started back to the blind.



The two men, in their stylish outfits, came back to the blind after a few hours of fruitless hunting.

“You believe that story the shopkeeper told us about the two hunters who died out here some years back and are haunting the place?”

“Nah. Don’t be absurd. Now be quiet, so we avoid frightening the game!”

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