Short Stories

William Stafford’s “Traveling through the Dark” tells, in a conversational storytelling voice, of the speaker’s experience and thought processes as he encounters a deer dead on a narrow road at night. Knowing that on a road as narrow as this it is best to roll the deer into the canyon rather than swerving, the speaker begins to move the deer but realizes it still carries a fawn, warm and alive. At this discovery he hesitates, not wanting to be the killer of the fawn despite not having harmed the doe. In the end, alone in the wilderness, he chooses to push the doe, with her fawn, off the edge of the road.

Buck was kidnapped from Judge Miller’s place and brought into an environment where he had to rely on his instincts. Soon enough he learned to live by the law of club and fang where he must be constantly alert and no one was to be trusted. When Buck was given to Francois and Perrault they allowed for his primitive instincts to be shown. While Buck was under their care his development or retrogression was rapid. “They quickened the old life within him, and the old tricks which they had stamped into the heredity of the breed were his tricks. They came to him without effort or discovery as though they had been his always” (25). Buck became enact with his primitive life and his transformation was apparent. Once Buck discovered this nature it did not leave him even when he met John Thornton. “As closely akin to the visions of the hairy man was the call still sounding in the depths of the forest. It filled him with great unrest and strange desires” (69). The call sometimes appeared in Buck’s dreams of a hairy man sleeping by the fire. The man represented him and just like Buck, the man was restless and aware of any sounds or awakenings. The call remained in the back of his mind while he struggled to stay civilized.

” Okay, well we will get you all fixed up, but just one more question, did you find the bullet?” I said, no sir. He replied,”okay.”

“The rifle cracked, Tim Johnson leaped, flopped over, and crumpled on the sidewalk in a brown and white heap. He didn't know what had

He shot the rest of the cartridges with his eyes closed and smiling. If he had “…just one mo bullet…” he would have shot at Mr. Hawkins’ house to “let im know Dave Saunders is a man.” Being humiliated, laughed at and hurt, the gun seemed even more powerful to him when in reality, it was just a burden to his ability to act like a

The thundering sound of hooves echoes in my ears as my horse comes barreling down the hill toward me. My whistle had caused him to go crashing through the tall grass and Queen Ann’s Lace in search of me once again. Coming to a sliding stop in front of me, I gently stroke his muzzle. Letting my hands glide over his fuzzy neck and into his jet black mane, I grab ahold and throw myself onto his strong back. We go running through the pasture, scattering wild rabbits and sending sparrows a flight. I watch them fly overhead, their brown wings leading them to rest in the big oak tree that my horse and I come to a halt underneath.

Breathless, Alex ran through the forest. It was twilight, normally his favorite time of day, but this golden hour took on a malicious tone. These woods were full of weeds, slippery moss covered stones , and twisted, thorny vines. Alex’s foot caught on a snarled root, and he tumbled onto the cold dirt. Alex sensed something was amiss, and he knew The Beast was growing ever nearer. As Alex lay sprawled on the forest floor, a single thought ran through his mind. “I’m done.” with the will to live draining from him. Alex lay still in the dirt and leaves resting for his last time. The soreness in his legs was so unbearable he wanted the release of death; craved for it even. “Thump”....... “Thump” The Beast's feet approached slowly and

During a summer day in the plains, a member of the Apache tribe, Adahy, was hunting a wild deer with the intention of killing it to satisfy his urge to hunt. Adahy was known to kill for sport, and leave the corpse of the animal he killed to rot. As the deer bounded off into the woods, Adahy’s overwhelming bloodlust caused him to go after it. After he lost sight of the deer, he realized that he did not realize he didn’t know where in the deep woods he was. Hoping he would find his way, he walked in the direction he thought he came from. Soon night time began to fall, and he began to succumb to the feelings of hunger and cold.

He explained that there was a man wearing all black with rubber sandals, his shoulders were slightly stooped. He had a grey ammunition belt around him, a weapon in his hand slowly making his way to the middle of the trail. I saw him and freaked, so pulled the pin to a grenade and threw it near his feet.

His pink skin had lessened to a wilted gray and the flies continued to encircle through the holes where his eyes were meant to be. He perched there, on the stick, as if he awaited a reign of fire to burn the entirety of forest to the ground. Before my very eyes was no longer an innocent animal, but a monster who leered at prospect of my suffering. Terror drove up my body as I felt myself quivering and violently hacking. “What else is there to do?”

In the story The Call of the Wild, a dog named Buck gets taken by his owners gardener and gets sold to a gold miner in the Yukon where at home his was the leader and ruler,

“Oh I see it, it must be a plastic bag in the wind.” My dad reassured me. “Wait...I see antlers. It’s a buck!” my dad yelled.

INTRO: I never thought I would feel so awful after pulling that trigger and watching that innocent animal give it’s life to me. I was only ten years old and my life was certainly impacted forever. Nowadays, many people think that pulling the trigger of a gun is not hard at all. In reality, it might be pretty easy. It is the aftermath on the other hand that will leave an internal scar, changing a person forever. On my first deer hunt, a young buck stepped out of the dense willow clusters with it’s head down, giving me a shot. Soon I would be faced with the tough decision of taking the life of an innocent animal. Meanwhile, on my first turkey hunt, there too I would soon be changed forever.

Whether Faith obeyed, he knew not. Hardly had he spoken, when he found himself amid calm night and solitude, listening to a roar of the wind, which died heavily away through the forest. He staggered against the rock, and felt it chill and damp, while a hanging twig, that had been all on fire, besprinkled his cheek with the coldest dew.

It was about 13 degrees out and the sun had just started to peek over the mountains behind our house. It was a magnificent morning. It was one of those crisp, cold mornings with no wind and I could hear for miles and miles. I remember hearing my neighbor’s dog, Orvis, barking two miles away. I kept walking for about a quarter mile until I came upon a field that was always a hot spot for deer in the morning. It was an exciting feeling to be out in the woods with the deer, yet at the same time, a terrifying feeling. Was I going to fail yet another year of not bagging my buck? I was anxious as to what my family and friends would think of me. I needed to get a deer in the worst way.