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Ethan Chiu

Mr. Marks

Literature

30 November 2020

The Hunting Rifle

“Bang!” Dad accurately fired at the galloping white tailed deer through the barrel of his

favorite wooden hunting rifle. Within seconds, the deer collapsed. I yelled, “Perfect shot, Dad!”

Running towards the deer, I picked up the animal’s head to show Dad his trophy. As I looked up,

no one was there, not a single soul, just the hunting rifle laying on a pile of leaves.

“Ding!” I jerked off the table, waking up from the dream that seemed too real. Sinking in

all the information, I said to myself, “What are you thinking, Nolan? Dad is gone, don’t you

remember?”

I packed up my school supplies, which was just a ballpoint pen and a piece of scrap

paper, and walked out of the classroom from the seat in the farthest corner. On my way out of the

classroom, the teacher called on the other student who was also asleep in class and asked him

whether he had a bad night’s sleep. I threw away the note paper that didn’t have a single word on

it in the trash. During lunch, I sat down in the farthest seat in the cafeteria and looked out the

window. The sky was gloomy with tiny raindrops dripping off the maple leaves. The sweet

memory of me and Dad going hunting on rainy days rushed back again.

“Rainy days would never stop us from having fun.” I reminisced. Dad would tell me to

put on my rain boots and he would grab his hunting rifle. We would set off into the forest from
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dusk until dawn. The aroma of mom’s chicken pot pie would invade our nostrils even before we

stepped into the house. I quickly withdrew this dangerous fantasy. Ever since that day, a day I

cannot even dare to recollect, things were never the same. Yet, without control, the nightmare

flowed back like streams into the ocean. On that day, the police knocked on the door, walked in,

and asked, “Are you the Miller Family?” Mom nodded with tears falling down her face like she

already knew what happened. All of a sudden, deafness invaded my ears, not a single sound was

audible. However, even without sound, I could still see the words that came out of the police’s

mouth, “Your husband has died in a car accident.”

“Yo, kiddo!” A deep sound said. I looked up, an overweight jock, smirking with disdain,

stood in front of me. “This is the team’s table, you have no right to be sitting here,” he said

mockingly. I quickly stood up and started walking towards the cafeteria door. Face planted into

the ground, I sprinted down the long cafeteria hall that seemed never-ending. The air froze. The

raindrops paused. The clouds halted. I could feel pairs of eyes looking into my soul. One stared

with disgust, one glared with disdain, one scowled with scorn. As I pushed out the cafeteria door

and walked out into the open field, raindrops continued to fall. One raindrop fell directly in the

middle of my eyebrows, the memories came flooding back like an inescapable nightmare.

“The overcast looks just like the clouds at the funeral,” I said. Just five days after Dad’s

funeral, Mom dated a new man, and somehow this stranger completely transformed her. The

once charismatic and loving mom turned into a cold-blooded and emotionless person, controlled

by this new family member. This man went out every night and only came back at noon for

lunch. As soon as he stepped in, the smell of hard liquor permeated through the entire house. Yet,
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Mom still welcomed this alcoholic home. Another raindrop fell on the tip of my nose, bringing

me back to reality.

On my way home, the rain fell harsher on my face. I looked up at the clouds, stormy yet

quiet at the same time. “Where should I go now? No place feels like home. Not the house that is

filled with the foul odor of hard liquor, not the building that is supposed to teach knowledge.”

For a period of time, time was insensible. I stood in the rain, feeling every single raindrop hitting

against my face, every single blow of the biting wind against my ribs. Yet, my mind was calmed

and soothed. Suddenly, a thought arose, so powerful that the overcast faded, so enlightening that

sunlight returned. Two days after Dad’s accident, Mom locked all of Dad’s belongings in his

shed, where he used to keep his hunting gears. “I can go there! That cabin is the only place that I

feel like home, a place that reminds me of Dad and memories of us hunting together, playing

together, experiencing nature together.” I thought to myself while my legs started moving

without control, one footstep after another. Slowly, stepping turned into walking, walking turned

into running. “That cabin. That memory. That hunting rifle” are the only words in my head.

Within seconds, I was in front of Dad’s shed. The rotten wooden door was chained with a lock. I

picked up a rusted bolt cutter laying next to the cabin’s door, like I was destined to be here at this

moment. As I cut through the corroded chain, a similar scent rushed into my brains. I entered the

shed. Instantly, my eyes locked on a crumbled box that had Mom’s poor handwriting on it.

“Bill’s belongings,” I said to myself. As I opened the box, tears started pouring down my face

unconsciously. The framed picture of me and Dad holding up a deer was in front of me. It was

the first time Dad allowed me to use his hunting rifle. Even Mom was there to celebrate the

moment. “Why couldn’t things go back to normal? Why couldn't Dad be here with me? Why do
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you have to leave me alone? Why can’t I join you?” I screamed. For seconds, I panted with all

the tears falling down my face. I quivered with all the cold blows of wind hitting against me. I

grew pale with all the air escaping my lungs. As I wiped away the tears, I saw a similar rifle

handle piled under Dad’s jacket. I picked up Dad’s favorite rifle that holds all our fondest

memories. A dangerous thought emerged.

“Why should I stay here? Mom forgot about me, teachers neglected me, classmates

mocked me. What is the point of staying in the present if the past was so much better?”

“What if I just...?”

“What if I join…?”

“What if I leave...?”

My senses became numb. Even my own words, as I mumbled, “Dad! Dad! Dad!” were

inaudible to my own ears. I could see my pulses pulsating in front of my eyes. One heartbeat

after another. Each second felt like hours long. Suddenly, tears stopped, breathe calmed,

trembling halted. I have never felt so calm and assured of any decision in my life. Slowly, I saw

myself pointing the gun towards my temple. I couldn’t control a thing, everything just happened.

I could feel the nerves in my index finger pressing firmly against the trigger. “Here I come, Dad.

We can finally reunite!”

“Bang!”

The Birds sang, the wind blew, the cicadas chirped. A familiar sound entered my ears.

“Nolan? Nolan, is that you?”