Post by James Lightsword on Feb 5, 2008 22:19:59 GMT -5
This is actually a very short piece that I had to write for creative writing, stressing sound. I think it's interesting. I tried to make paragraphs, but it wouldn't let me. Sorry.
The scrape of metal on metal culminated into a harsh clack as the slidearm locked into place. The sound made me cringe, but I slid two more shells into the bottom chamber, both with the scrape of brass on steel, and the shotgun was ready.
I raised my head and listened as I scanned the woods for any sign of my quarry. Hunting is auditory as well as visual. In fact, it’s nearly more auditory than visual. The sport, though I don’t consider it a sport so much as a means of food acquisition, hones one’s hearing.
The wind rustling through the trees was haunting, having almost a spooky quality. The breeze washed past me and receded through the trees behind me, creating an unforgettable aural experience that will stick with me forever.
Suddenly, I heard the rustling of leaves and not being experienced at deer hunting at the time, my head snapped around to find the origin of the provocative sound. My heart was pounding with such intensity that I could hear its incessant thumping as my eyes finally made contact with the noisemaker…a squirrel. I sighed heavily, and instantly regretted it as I suddenly remembered that deer have much better hearing than I do. I silently cursed myself as the natural noises of the woods settled around me once again and I was finally released from my heart’s thudding as it calmed into normal pumping.
A small flock of small birds rustled the leaves around and I turned my attention to one as it flipped up a leaf, making a noise larger than a bird that small should have made in an attempt to find food. This tiny messenger of hope made me smile as he created a ruckus that belied his stature and that inhibited my ability to hear my adversary and potential dinner.
After an hour of listening to the birds, squirrels, and other various natural sounds of the forest and branch snapped in the near distance. I gazed up at the spot where the noise occurred and I waited, listening again for the telltale sounds of an approaching deer. Another branch broke, a rare second branch for a deer. The noise was made by too large a branch to have been anything else, and so I listened. My heart thudded again and I had realized that it had been moving swiftly yet again.
I waited for more sounds that my prey advanced, but none came. After another hour, it was half an hour after sunset and it was time to go in. I made no pretense of being quiet as I unloaded my shotgun, making so much noise that if a deer didn’t think an elephant was in the woods, something was wrong with it. After lowering my shotgun via rope length and clacking down the wooden rungs of my stand, I untied my firearm and walked home, meeting up with my father who had been in his own stand. The whole adventure had been anti-climatic, as most of my hunting days were.
The scrape of metal on metal culminated into a harsh clack as the slidearm locked into place. The sound made me cringe, but I slid two more shells into the bottom chamber, both with the scrape of brass on steel, and the shotgun was ready.
I raised my head and listened as I scanned the woods for any sign of my quarry. Hunting is auditory as well as visual. In fact, it’s nearly more auditory than visual. The sport, though I don’t consider it a sport so much as a means of food acquisition, hones one’s hearing.
The wind rustling through the trees was haunting, having almost a spooky quality. The breeze washed past me and receded through the trees behind me, creating an unforgettable aural experience that will stick with me forever.
Suddenly, I heard the rustling of leaves and not being experienced at deer hunting at the time, my head snapped around to find the origin of the provocative sound. My heart was pounding with such intensity that I could hear its incessant thumping as my eyes finally made contact with the noisemaker…a squirrel. I sighed heavily, and instantly regretted it as I suddenly remembered that deer have much better hearing than I do. I silently cursed myself as the natural noises of the woods settled around me once again and I was finally released from my heart’s thudding as it calmed into normal pumping.
A small flock of small birds rustled the leaves around and I turned my attention to one as it flipped up a leaf, making a noise larger than a bird that small should have made in an attempt to find food. This tiny messenger of hope made me smile as he created a ruckus that belied his stature and that inhibited my ability to hear my adversary and potential dinner.
After an hour of listening to the birds, squirrels, and other various natural sounds of the forest and branch snapped in the near distance. I gazed up at the spot where the noise occurred and I waited, listening again for the telltale sounds of an approaching deer. Another branch broke, a rare second branch for a deer. The noise was made by too large a branch to have been anything else, and so I listened. My heart thudded again and I had realized that it had been moving swiftly yet again.
I waited for more sounds that my prey advanced, but none came. After another hour, it was half an hour after sunset and it was time to go in. I made no pretense of being quiet as I unloaded my shotgun, making so much noise that if a deer didn’t think an elephant was in the woods, something was wrong with it. After lowering my shotgun via rope length and clacking down the wooden rungs of my stand, I untied my firearm and walked home, meeting up with my father who had been in his own stand. The whole adventure had been anti-climatic, as most of my hunting days were.
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