The fog blinded his vision. The double barreled gun aimed at the subject, he fired, and missed. Startled and narrowly escaping death, the animal darted into the distance. Solomon was too quaint for this game. He had already caught two rabbits, a small masher and some type of fox. Not bad, he thought. Slinging the numb(p) animals over his left shoulder, the hunter began the journey home.
Solomon quite enjoyed brisk in the woods. He had found an abandoned cottage close and spent the cold Canadian winter with the animals of the wilderness. He stepped into the board and coughed at the musty, mildew smell that felt like it was already clogging his throat. Solomon looked around. The yellow paint was peeling off the walls in strips and bubbles, exposing the grey wall beneath. The battered, deep brown wood floors creaked as he stepped farther in. There were stains in several places on the wood, rust-coloured smears as he bent to look more virtually at them. They looked like old blood. Dust webs floated in the air, promptred up by the faint breeze he felt coming from the door behind. They were attached to the ceiling and fixtures somewhere in the shadows higher up his head. Solomon stood motionless, there was no sound. It was like the air smothered sounds and choked the breeze.
Another door on the other side of the room, barmy open a few inches, but it was impossible to operate what was beyond it, or hear if anyone was there. Another faint stir of air, this time from the door on the other side of the room. Cautiously, Solomon approached the entrance, peering by means of the small crack. Nothing. He unloaded his shotgun and hurled the carcasses into the corner.
Soon after, Solomon cut up a rabbit, slowly letting...
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