Even at night the desert swelters. Sweat drips from my forehead, fogging the scope, veneering the sparse mustache tracing my lip. Perched in the granite outcropping and hidden behind camel thorn, I wait for dawn, when animals venture forth for food, for water and mating, before the sun sends them back to shadows. “Do it for honor,” the elders said. “Do it for your manhood.”
I am blessed with a sharp eye, a steady hand, and do not yet taste fear. The elders chose me for this hunt, for of all our clansmen, I have the greatest accuracy. With one shot I can kill a hare from a stone’s throw or fell a bat in flight. This week I killed the leopard preying on our goats after other men had failed.
But I am a poet, not a hunter; even as I crouch amidst the rocks I weave words in my head.
Listen to the sand, to the tale it tells,
the spirits of the prophets joined with the One.
Gold silhouettes the distant ridge. My arms tremble, from the heat, from the weight of the Kalashnikov, from the exhaustion of anticipation. Below, a pale rectangle of light spills from the hut onto the scorched poppy field. My finger curls around the trigger, and I pray for the animal souls I’ve taken – panther, gazelle, hyena, vulture.
“It is only meat,” I murmur as the Commander greets the day.
***
My take on the 52/250 theme 'red meat'.
Peace, Linda
Posts
savage
ReplyDeleteI like the switch from the suggestion of an ancient tribal hunting initiation, into the modern geurilla/paramilitary predator. That worked really well.
ReplyDeleteThe interesting thing to me is that sometimes it is the poets & artists who make the best predators...
Marc Nash
Poets kill with reason. Much more frightening than a trigger-happy lunatic.
ReplyDeletePowerful. Even admist such bloodshed his words, and yours, are beautiful.
ReplyDeleteVery powerful story. It flows really well.
ReplyDeleteYes, great gradual revelation of where and what is really going on. At first I was totally in the American Southwest. This piece reminds me of the post you made with the quote about revealing backstory in concise details - excellent job of that here!
ReplyDeleteExcellent. This one eases you in and then goes straight for the heart. Well done.
ReplyDeleteThe sentences connect together to a heartbrokenness - not heartbreaking, but the feeling that one broke some time ago.
ReplyDeleteIf you want feedback, what is your source for the desert sweltering at night? I ask because deserts are notorious for getting hazardously cold at night.
Thanks all for taking the time to read and comment. I struggled all week with the prompt, and woke up this morning with the thought of a sniper thinking of his target as meat. I have often wondered how snipers can do their job without cracking up (maybe they do). At the same time, I've been reading a series of policy articles debating the merits of making Afghanistan's poppy industry, which supplies almost half the world's illicit opium (==> heroin), into a licit source for medicinal opiates. I decided to drop the story in this war-torn and decimated country which, of course, also is the homeland of Rumi. It was fun linking all those disparate thoughts together.
ReplyDeleteJohn, I was surprised myself when I read that the Afghan deserts can remain very hot at night in the high summer. Just another detail I picked up, along with the flora and fauna, the AK-47, the poppy fields. Peace...
But I am a poet, not a hunter ...
ReplyDeleteI love that notion, Linda... A great, great idea, executed perfectly.
Much easier to dispatch others when one is an aetheist, methinks.
ReplyDeleteApropos the desert commentary, they have bats in Afghanistan?
So poetic throughout and then the ending gives such a jolt!
ReplyDeleteWonderful.
It's always best to have some poetry in your soul every time you kill something.
ReplyDeleteNice work.
Thanks all. Lily, I LOVE seeing a pic of you! And in answer to your question -- yes, bats in Afghanistan, and no, this kid is not an atheist. Peace...
ReplyDeleteI like the sniper feel to this. A good sniper needs a focus, thoughts channel to their goal. Nice feel to this story.
ReplyDeleteDeserts can be hot at night. I've been in a desert where the low was 90f, the day high was 128f. Hot, but extremely dry.
Even poets have to eat, right? At least he is hunting with a military grade rifle.
ReplyDeleteBrilliant, as always.
I loved the flow of the words in this piece. Well done!
ReplyDeleteA beautiful flow of words juxtaposed against savage reality. I think many do lose their minds.
ReplyDeleteGreat poetic flow & imagery here! The contrasts illustrate the conflict - but no conflict state - really well-delivered story!
ReplyDeleteAh, the deep intuition of a poet, in touch with nature, even when he is a predator - really interesting.
Wow! A fantasy poetic splurge from you. I loved this line--
ReplyDelete"But I am a poet, not a hunter; even as I crouch amidst the rocks I weave words in my head."
I'm not sure what the red meat theme is about, but this piece has so much sensuality and it just rolls like a poem. Gorgeous work as always.
Thanks all for reading and your kind words! Jodi, the theme is just that -- how it inspires each of the writers results in very different stories. You can read more at 52/250.
ReplyDeletePeace...
The feel of this is wonderful. The anticipation, the long, long night. And then you drop the fact that it's not a simple hunt on the reader.
ReplyDeleteReally, really well done.
That kalashnikov certainly went bang for me! Beautiful words as ever here.
ReplyDeleteOn a side note re: your conversation with John W - one of the best things about writing is the great snippets of information one comes across while doing research for their story!
I would be surprised if there were no bats in Afghanistan. There are a lot more plants and insects in a desert environment than some people suspect.
ReplyDeleteDid you see The Hurt Locker? There's a great scene about snipers. The men are dug in, holding their positions, barely moving for hours.
I think with the proper attitude one can have a sense of the Sacred with regard to the hunt and food. Now war, that's another matter. To pull the trigger though, in any instance, I would surmise the shooter must find a way to detach his thoughts and feelings from the act - like somehow convincing himself it's "only meat."
Provocative piece, Linda.
The duality, the clashing complexity in us all is wonderfully drawn with this. Sad, but as always with you, honest and real.
ReplyDeleteThanks all! Mazzz, when I realized the story took place in Afghanistan, I had to read a LOT about that part of the world. Fascinating place, complex climate, geography, exotic wildlife, and rich culture and history... a place I want to visit but will likely never be able to.
ReplyDeleteMark, the motivation for this story was exactly this -- how can one shoot another human? Glad I provoked -- tis my aim.
Kevin, thank you; your words make me fly.
Lou, you are my role model when it comes to honest and real.
Peace...
I really like the journey you take us on in such a short piece. Nicely done!
ReplyDeleteWhile this is short, it's a very complex piece. I can't imagine being put in a place where I had to take the life of another... it's chilling. Great job.
ReplyDelete~2
Linda, how did it take me so log to get here? Whatever, it's always, always worth the journey.
ReplyDeleteYour description of the thoughts going through this gunman's mind is really quite amazing... a tangled weaving of poetic justification. Terrifying, really. Yet written with such seamless clarity.
Thank you all for reading. I don't think I could take another life, either; I've always wondered how others could do so.
ReplyDeleteLove the new pic, Cathy! Peace...
Very well constructed, Linda, very tense. I was thrown by the hyena reference, so looked it up. You were right, as always. Learn something new every day.
ReplyDelete~jon