Michael Gray




     First narrative: There was stillness in the air. Jason stumbled noisily through the fern filled wilderness. The teenage boy had his Bowie knife at his side and bow in his hand. He had been hunting for the past seven hours and was now looking for a place to have lunch. When he stepped out of the brush onto an open field he thought, “Wow this field is beautiful. My family needs to come here.” Then, he sat down at a lone, fallen tree. As he unwrapped his sandwich he heard rustling in the brush on the far side of the field. Cautiously the apprehensive boy kneeled onto the damp ground, set down his sandwich, and slowly pulled out an arrow. A rabbit sprung from the ferns about twenty feet away.

     Marian, Jason’s mother, brought her binoculars to her eyes. She had just finished the dishes when she looked out over the mountains for any signs of life. Scanning the horizon she thought, “I hope he’ll catch something today. He’s been down hearted over the lack of animal kills with only two more weeks of summer break left.” Marian set the binoculars down and went to her bedroom to take a nap.

     When Jason picked up his bow the rabbit crouched dead still. Before the rabbit went away he smoothly positioned the arrow onto the bow. There was a whizzing jolt as the arrow sliced through the air. The rabbit fell instantly dead with not even a quiver. Jason screamed full of joy. He picked up the rabbit, put him in a sac, and went back to his lunch.

     Second narrative: Today I have a free day off from manufacturing hovering skateboards. I am waiting for my friends to pick me up for a movie. They are supposed to pick me up at 7:00. As a breeze swayed some trees along my short, concrete driveway I looked at my wristwatch. It showed five till seven. I heard a car crackle around the cul-de-sac tangent to our house. As the car came close to our house I waved and then immediately noticed the sun dropping low to the horizon. When I looked back at the car all I could see were its taillights. After watching the car turn away, the sun dipped half way below the opposite side of the cul-de-sac. The sun was oily and big with rays that bathed the street in orange, blurred light. There was another car coming around the cul-de-sac. It was my friends.

     Third narrative: There was an orchestra of bugs surrounding Jim as he walked. The bugs music sounded like a band playing no particular song while on a break from work. Jim was trying to circumnavigate an island on his stay in Turkey. He had been living on a charter boat for the past three days with cloudless, sunny weather. So far he had gone about halfway around the bolder piled island. As he walked, jumped, and climbed along the shore he saw a big, white bird floating on the calm waters. When the thirty-five year old Jim saw the bird, he was almost on the top of a five foot wide boulder. On the boulder there was an indentation that served as a seat. Jim sat there. Then, he searched the horizon for the big, white bird. The birds shiny white wings smacked the air as clear drops of water shattered off them. It moved forward with an invisible force of pressures. As the bird raised out of the water it turned counterclockwise around the island. Then, it built up speed and disappeared. After watching the display of beauty, Jim got up and continued his trek. A breeze sprang up when he turned a corner. He was on the windward shore. There were now one and a half foot waves pounding the shoreline. He turned four more corners and the breeze died and the waves calmed. There was an outboard, then dinghy, then painter. When he reached for his dinghy’s painter and untied it he laughed and threw the painter into the water.

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