October 22, 2017
Microfiction: Young hunter
Aside from growth, there is another thing that six year olds lack – fear. A little girl showed her determination, and promptly reached out and picked up the rifle. The loaded weapon, almost half the length of an adult human, teetered back and forth in her small hands. Before reaching the target, she couldn't even reach the hammer to discharge the empty shell.
"Okay, I'll take it. You guide." I said and took the weapon, and the little girl pointed a finger straight ahead. We were not stirred by the earth trembling below us; it was caused by our target, an over three-thousand pound massive grass eater with bony plates on its back. The stegosaurus didn't notice us, walking languidly and swaying its spiked tail.
"The weakness is the front leg and head." I whispered to the child, bending a thicket from the side. I positioned myself low, raised the rifle and closed one eye.
"Shoot, shoot!" The child pressed me, gluing her eyes on the stegosaurus. I bent my finger and pulled the trigger. The bullet flew through the air, and then I heard an alarm.
We looked up, and saw two large bold words: "GAME OVER". Our hunting game ended.
The girl looked up to me. "More coins?"
"No, my arm's tired of holding the gun."
"Okay!" The child turned and rushed to the racing boat simulator. This was how weekends were sometimes spent – getting a kick out of hunting virtual monsters.