avatarPaul Mansfield

Summary

A young protagonist recounts their rite of passage into adulthood by recounting their first hunting experience and the subsequent kill of a mouse.

Abstract

The narrative "My First Kill" is a poignant microfiction piece that delves into the protagonist's memory of their first successful hunt. The story unfolds on a bright morning, ideal for play, yet it marks a turning point in the protagonist's life. With the absence of male figures in the family, the protagonist is tasked by their mother to provide for the household. The protagonist chooses a mouse, perceived as a thief and a nuisance, as their prey. The act of hunting, a skill honed through childhood games, culminates in a swift and decisive kill that brings a mix of pride and the sobering realization of the gravity of taking a life. The protagonist's success is celebrated by the family, signifying their transition into a role of responsibility, and the story closes with a reflection on the inevitability of this new chapter in life.

Opinions

  • The protagonist feels a sense of pride and accomplishment in their ability to provide for their family, viewing the kill as a necessary step into adulthood.
  • There is an underlying tone of melancholy and moral contemplation regarding the act of killing, suggesting that while it may become easier with time, it is never without emotional weight.
  • The story implies a critique of the societal expectations placed on individuals to fill certain roles within a family, especially at a young age.
  • The author seems to draw a parallel between the innocence of childhood games and the harsh realities of life that necessitate growth and adaptation.
  • The protagonist's success is acknowledged by the family, reinforcing the cultural significance of hunting and self-sufficiency.
  • The narrative suggests that the transition to adulthood often involves experiences that are both triumphant and traumatic.

MICROFICTION

My First Kill

Childhood memories

Photo by Hansjörg Keller on Unsplash

So long ago, but still fresh in my memory. My first kill. My first triumph. The entryway to adulthood.

The morning was glorious — sunny and bright — perfect for playing. Perfect for scampering and climbing trees and chasing the girls. But today was the day. Momma took me aside — pappa had left us long ago for another — and told me it was time to become an adult. She needed me to be the new man around the house. Dougie, my older brother, had gone wandering like pappa, and the sisters were busy with babies of their own. It was up to me to provide for the family.

I quickly found the prey l wanted lounging around the neighbourhood. There were easier prey, but he was the one I wanted. I didn’t like his look. He was shady and beady eyed. I had seen him stealing from the pantry before, and knew he was up to no good. I snuck up on him, and with a swift pounce, I snapped his neck.

It was over so fast. The rest of his friends scattered; there’d be no resistance from them.

A life of playing hide-and-go-seek and other seemingly harmless games had taught me the skills I required for the hunt. But the games don’t prepare you for the kill. Nothing prepares you for seeing the light go out from your victim’s eyes and hearing their last rattling breath. It gets easier over time, but it never becomes easy.

With pride, I carried my prize home to momma and plopped him down before momma, and she was so proud of me. She gave me the biggest piece for lunch, and then I plopped down in the sun, had a good purr and then a nap.

That mouse never stood a chance.

I based this story on Zane Dickens’ prompt:

Paul Mansfield is a writer, a photographer, a guitar player, a philosopher — some he does well, some not so well, but he still tries them all. You can follow him on Twitter @pmansfield.

And if you want to subscribe to Medium, here’s a link where I get paid a trifle to sell my soul to the Corporate Overlords. The Corporate Overlords eat the Great Old Ones for breakfast.

Another amazing story by Paul.

Fiction
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Flash Fiction
Microfiction
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