Hunter

I am a hunter.

A lonely and skillful hunter.

I born to be a hunter. I have hunter’s sharp weapons, hunter’s strong physical body and hunter’s name—Leo. 

My name is the only thing that I can remember when I woke up, but it doesn’t matter since I still fit the character pretty well.

I lived in the center of a huge and luxuriant jungle with countless trees of various but bizarre colors such as gray, black, white or red. 

They were growing randomly, but also obeying to several basic rules: the tallest trees were always growing in the middle region of the jungle and usually grey; in relatively remote area, they become sparse and acted more like shrubberies. These rules which were practical for my hunting career were discovered and concluded by myself; every great hunter need not only sharp weapons but also keen eye to find the essence of stuffs. 

Oh, speak to the weapon, I had two firelocks, rusted but effective, a saw and a hound named nose (he is pretty silent). They were my best pets and partners. 

Nose would find the prey for me, and I would use my arms to whether shot the target down or chop its head. I preferred the latter which was more cheerful; every time the snow-white blades cutting into the fragile neck of those poor animals and covering with red blood, a strong current which makes me unconsciously shiver would flow through my body. At that moment, I felt that my vessels are filled with adrenaline rather than blood.

There were lots of hunters in the jungle. We sometimes cooperated so that the hunting will become more efficient. We galloped together like rushing clouds; took our lethal weapons like deaths holding their scythes with chilly gleam; smelt over every square meter of soil and air to dig those vigilant preys out from their hideouts. 

Our appetites were huge. Every day we needed to find at least three middle-sized animals or distresses, and hungers will killed us. So it was also a radical competition. If anyone get into my ways, I would use my sharp weapons to kill. Sometimes a hunting ended up as a scuffle. Everyone was trying to snatch that succulent little prey—the fruit of victory—and willing to twist other’s neck if needed. 

My hands were full of bloods of prey and hunters as day passing. At the same time, I become much more skillful, proficient and cruel. I obtained more sharp eyes and noses to find prey; not hunters because they always make loud noise and generate large smell. I had better understanding of the mechanism of my weapons, and it seems like they even begin to be my additional limbs, pretty obedient and docile to my order. Eventually, after surviving from the lethal competition, I become the strongest hunter.

One day, after tearing up with another hunter again, I observed the surroundings when I was executing the routine process—find those animals, which become much more harder because most of them had already been killed—and I surprisingly found out something unusual, pretty unusual.

I found the biggest hideout of those animals!

Those huge trees with bizarre colors, they were supposed to be inaccessible, but I found a little door hidden in thatches, bushes, and foliage, which were pretty hard to move.  But I finally removed those obstacles, and the aroma of the flesh of the animals gushed out from this tiny entrance.

There were at least thousands of preys living in the hollow tree!

With tremulously excite, I finally entered this Garden of Eden.

When those animals saw me, they jostled together like a brood of chickens.

They should.

The male stepped forward and tried to harass me so that their spouses and children can have enough time to flee, even though they were shivering.

They were howling at me, this kind of thing always happened. When those animals had no place to go, they would always do this. Maybe they were trying to communicate with me using their language? But I cannot understand always. 

For me, it was just meaningless neighs or brays, like the rustle of leaves when winds passing.

It was.

Wait…there are some letters coming out from their mouth!

How can it be possible?!! I am a hunter, but they are preys! We are from different species!

I shrank backward and tried hard to cover my ears. But those sounds cruelly bored a hole on my cranium and rushed in.

They were initially letters, then words, and eventually entire sentences.

Those animals kneeled before me, and cried: “Don’t kill us…”

Impossible! IMPOSSIBLE!!!!!

For the first time, I escaped in overwhelming panic. I encountered other coming hunters who have also discovered this huge slaughterhouse. They carried their lethal weapons and brushed with me with stench like a troop of rotting meats, murmuring meaningless syllables and shivering like psychiatric patients. I could even see transparent saliva dripping down their opening mouth and repeatedly grinding teeth.

Just like insane herd. 

I ran until I lost all of my strength and stamina. Panting in the middle of the street, I forced myself to calm down.

It’s okay; maybe it is just hallucinating. I tried to persuade myself but failed. Inevitable confusion rose from the deep of my heart with mysterious cloud. 

Why am I here? Why am I a hunter? What happened before all of that?

Am I a hunter?

Even though I didn’t want to meet those animals who speak human languages, my intuitive forced me to hunt, hunt, and hunt.

Then I sorrowfully found out that the thing happened before is not hallucination.

I can understand what those animals are talking about entirely. They roared to their companions when they saw me, reassured their relatives and children, and used the most vicious obscenities to curse me.

They always said:

 “Go to the hell!! You z$%#*&!”

That’s confusing, why they use only this word to address me?

I wanted to figure out what is this word that I cannot understand at all. There was a strong feeling keeps telling that the truth is just hidden before this veil, and all I need to do is uncover it.

I begin to follow the prey silently, listen what they are talk about and tried to figure out the genuine meaning. This is hard because when I approached the prey, they will always recognize that, ran away and called me zombie, and my appetite always induced me to eat them.

After several experiences, I got familiar with this work. Just like I found the inward rule of the forest and the mechanism of my weapon, I found the logic of their sentences.

They called all hunters “z$%#*&”, called the forest “city”,  called the tree “ house” “building” or “edifice.”

But I still cannot figured out what does z$%#*& mean; my remaining memory tell me that this is not something good. This make sense; hunters like me are not something good to them.

I lost all the desire to eat these creatures speaking language that I can understand since it is so disgusting for a person to eat a piece of meat speaking human language. However, my instinct—the thing that used to please me very well when I follow it—almost drove me insane. I felt hungry, pretty hungry…like millions of maggots were wriggling on my skin, boring hole through my muscles, devouring my bones and swigging my marrow.

I couldn’t remembered any thing about that crazy time anymore. It left with only vague sense …intolerable pang and itch…

Finally, in fierily burning sight, I pounced into the first prey that I could see and reach.

Tear it up…tear it up…tear it up!

Scalding blood spurted and gushed into my mouth, artery of human pulsated under my shivering teeth…prey’s white arms embraced me, as soft as mom’s bosom.

Senses came back to my body, so I released my prey. Her dark hair floated in the wind fleetingly, and she fell down to the filthy ground in front of me.

I turned my eyes to the silent street, avoiding watching the hollow azure eyes of her, and walking slowly to my home, the place which I woke up in.

I knew the answer was almost touchable now, I just need a final proof.

If this is the place that I lived before I lost my memory and become a hunter, then probably the answer should be there also.

It was a lovely little cabin before, but today I saw some creepy unusual thing. I saw the trace of blood, the remains of the fleshed inlayed in the palely white skeletons…

I found a little notebook out. There were no words on its cover, but I knew this is the thing that I want. It’s weird that I never saw it before. When the world in my eyes changed, something creepy that were concealed in the darkness emerged.

My hands hesitated, but finally they reached the target, the final fate of me.

I opened it.

Prey

July 8,20xx cloudy 9p.m

I have no idea why should I write the date and weather on…maybe it is just a hobby.

I was just bitten by a Zombie hours ago. The wound is begin to fester, and I am feverish. Maybe I am going to turn. So writing something down maybe is the best choice to prove my existence as  a person, a human being.

I have no idea what is going on outside. It was just a normal day when I walked out from my apartment. 

It was.

I walked to the Fifth street and found out that there have already stood so much people, which was an abnormal thing because today is Sunday.

Then riot begin. People fleet and trampled each other. I still didn’t know what is going on until somebody said, zombie.

A second later, two girls behind me begin to howl with great distress, they hit the ground repeatedly using their heads.

When they stood up, their limbs were twisted like vines, vessels bulged from their pale and bumpy face.

I saw the eyes of beasts, with ecstasy.

Then I heard the voice of knifes cutting throw the fragile skins and flesh…I felt the exciting convulsions of It and the pang.

Thanks to God that I escaped…

I have no idea what is happening outside, but I know I will die soon and become an undead lingering on the middle of the street, desiring fresh flesh and devour all the human that I can find.

Honestly, I feel terrible in the beginning, you know, becoming an inhuman thing.

But it doesn’t matter, and I am going to die. 

Leo, for memorizing and forgetting.

Zombie

I dropped the diary and crouched.

Finally, I lied down on the freezing tiles of my apartment.

I tried to speak, but the only sound I can made is roar, like the night wind of December.

There was no jungles but the silent city, no more trees but the buildings, no more weapons but my claws and teeth full of clots of bloods and fleshes, and there were no more animals but living human being, hiding, fleeting and running.

Oh, there was an animal, and it was me.

It was snowing, and the roar of hunters…zombies, were ringing outside on the corridor.

I struggled and stood up, staring at the red rust flowers growing on the steel door, and closed my eyes.

The End