Even though I've graduated I have made it a point to continue writing. I just finished this short piece and while I'm not sure whether I really like it, I figured I would share it with you folks anyhow.

Enjoy.

The Cabin Stand


Pine needles crunch softly underfoot as I make my way down what was once a frequently used logging road. As the sun clears the horizon, early morning darkness gives way to light just as I round the last bend in the trail. At the end of this particular trail sits a cabin that, according to people in the immediate area, has been there since the late 1800s. The owners have long since moved on, but this particular part of their history remains intact and undisturbed. Somewhat dilapidated, with a slight lean and a roof gone missing, I have often sat in a stand located near this particular landmark and pondered what life was like for the person who once called this structure home.

It was during one of my first visits to this spot that I noticed the large rubs that litter the area immediately surrounding the cabin. The signs of big bucks were abundant and it was because of this sign that I was prompted to hang a portable treestand within sight of the ancient homestead where several well used trails converge.

One evening, while deep in thought about the history of the inhabitants of this worn down home, the crunching of pine needles promptly returned my attention to the present. Silent minutes passed as I strained to locate the source of the disturbance. Just as I was beginning to think that it was merely a squirrel or some other small animal passing through, footsteps to my left pacified those thoughts. Lifting my bow off of the hanger above me, I stood and waited, expecting at any moment my quarry to present itself. Then, as if by some form of magic, a deer appeared standing broadside not ten yards from the stoop of the cabin.

As the deer lowered her head to nibble on the browse at her feet, I came to full draw. Lowering my sight pins to her chest, I released, expecting to hear the familiar crack of broadhead meeting bone. What I heard confused me, as the crack I was expecting instead was replaced by a dull thud. It took several moments before I realized what had happened. In my haste to make my shot, I settled the wrong pin on the deer’s chest and shot high; my arrow sinking into the side of the cabin rather than the center of the doe’s chest.

While the reality of what had just happened sunk in and the sound of my arrow hitting the cabin wall reverberated in my head, I was left with nothing but a somewhat deflated ego and my thoughts of the past.