Part1: Eptartar

This story has been on my mind for a while now, and now I can finally write it out!

Each part will be a new chapter if you're wondering.


Chapter 1- My Father the Hunter


My name is Cecile and this is only the begining of a hurtful end:


Game hunting,I hate it and always will. When mother died five years ago I was still an only child; I was left with my father, Patrick, who began hunting after she left us. It was because of hard times that Patrick started picking up the giant rifles and shot them into the sky. He lost his job and there was no other way to get food besides the fact of being bankrupt of our own house and home, then moving to a wreckless cottage not far from the woods. Fortunatley, I was smart enough to save some of my own money, which I kept safe inside a shoebox underneath the hamock father calls "my bed".

Anyway, he found our only way of survival was to hunt for our own food. So everyday my father would head out to the woods, gun in hand, and shoot animals ranging from rabbits to birds, foxes to deer. And (lucky me) I got to stay inside and work on the cottage walls and roof- the worst place we've ever been.

What I mean by "working on" is keeping in place and making better. I'm actualy good with tools such as saws, hammers, axes... all the talents uneeded to prepare a comfortable home. Instead of going to school every week- which we couldn't afford- I learned how to use moss and molasses to cover up cracks in the ceiling and molded spots on the walls. I couldn't call it fun, but I couldn't call it torture either. Yep, times were pretty rough for us then.

But they only got worse. After a long three years of this father began to change a bit and act a little drunk like those guys on beer commercials. He clearly didn't seem to care about what I had to say anymore like he used to, and only focussed on himself and capturing food. Of course, he seemed to have forgotten I even exsisted and heads out earlier to hunt. I always try to say to myself: "He still loves me. I'm his daughter forever, and he's my father forever and no one can change that. No matter what he does to ignore me, he hasn't tried to change, right?" But whenever I think this, I know forever is a very long time.

Soon enough he stopped letting me have any food what-so-ever, and I began to starve. I guess through his eyes I really didn't exsists anymore. I was just the little twelve year old invisible girl who works on the house everyday and begs uselessly for even the tiniest scrap of meat but gets none.

So I stopped working on our house all together. Since I slept in the hamock closer to the ground and under his, I let him get rained on all night.

But did he care? No.

But he only began to change even more and I stopped thinking that old thought. I knew it wasn't true... not anymore at least. My life was over as I knew it.

I continued to work on the house once more. This time, I did everything I could think of and learned new things, like how to create a sling out of leaves and sap off of oak tree's. But what good would that ever do me? No, my father was becoming so different I hardly seemed to know him anymore... I had to find out what was going on.

One night in bed I was thinking about exactly what I was going to do when I turned on my side. Something snapped underneath me and I could feel my blood on my left arm oozing down my hand.

Sitting up startled, I looked below the hamock in pain. Of course, I could see nothing in the darkness of the night and thought better of it. I got up and walked out of the cottage in silence.

I soon reached a river in the deep woodness using the light of the silver moon. When I knelt down I heard something of the same type snap next to me. Looking (now with the shine of the stars and moon) I gasped at it.

A metal trap was closed in the grass hidden from sight unless you were actually looking for it. A sticker was posted on the side that read: Corey's Game Hunting Trap ~reusable~. It's rusty glare still gleamed in the moonlight making it seem alive, ready to pounce on the enemy. But I realized that the enemy wasn't me, as I dunked my blood drenched arm into the icy cold water of the river. The animals' were what it was after. No, not it ... my father. He was hunting game. The worst thing I could possibly think of at the moment. Those poor animals.

Forgetting about the throbbing pain I raced back to the safety of the cottage. It was almost dawn when I tore out the trap from underneath my hamock ad climbed back into bed. Before I closed my tear-filled eyes though, I noticed a large gray box sitting alone in the corner of the room. Who knew what that was for but I tried to forget that night.

Before I fell asleep I said quietly to myself,"I don't need to worry, he'll keep me safe when times get rough, it's in his blood and no one can change that. Mother wouldn't be very proud."

I tossed and turned a lot for the last five minutes before I finally settled in and whispered one last thing to myself,"But I guess that's just the way things are... a hunter will always be a hunter." Then I closed my eyes and fell fast asleep, unaware of the rude awakening of tomarrow.


So that's the begining of my story about how I meet my frst friend- a brand new part in my life.