“Pa?” he whispered, “Pa-a-a?” There was no sound except his own voice, twisted and shapeless and mocking, twirling through the trees like vapors in the dull, chilly air. “Pa! Pa! Pa!”
…
Nothing came. Nothing could be heard in the big dark forest, but Tommy’s endless pleas, his unending yells after his father. The forest was empty not only of sound, but also feeling. The thousands of animals and bugs crawling around had disappeared, alongside the constant feeling of comfort and support he beforehand had felt. Instead, all feeling of livelihood had been replaced by the emptiness of death.
The usual triumph Tommy would feel when hitting his prey, was nowhere to be found. The only feeling running through Tommy’s veins was fear. Endless and eternal fear formed in the depths of Tommy’s insides. Because deep in his gut, he knew. He knew that it was not his prey, that he had hit. “Pa! Where are you?!” his voice now no more stable than a bridge with missing planks. “Pa! Please, please, please...”, he continued pleading.
His vision turned blurred as tears started welling up his eyes. Blinking away the tears he took a small step forward. So small, that it barely counted as one. It seemed as if the last thing Tommy wanted, was to go further that direction. But after many long seconds he gathered enough courage to do so. With one last deep breath, he shakily made his way over to where his shot had landed moments before.
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