Hunting
Hunting eyes stories
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bernardtwindwil
bernardtwindwilGranddad & story teller, tomthepo8.com
Autoplay OFF  •  a year ago
This is for you Dad. This tale that has been told around every campfire that have ever been to since 1948.

Hunting

by bernardtwindwil

Campfire

My dad, uncle, and two cousins unloaded the two pickups. We set up our tents while it was still light. We gather downed branches and pieces of wood and built a campfire.

Swapping lies

We'd cooked dinner and roasted marshmallows. Naturally ghost stories mad the rounds. "Hello the fire" came in from the dark. "Come on in" was the reply.

The visitor

A pretty rough looking and worse smelling red bearded man came in at sat staring at the fire.

Mr. Nurtz

"Coffee?" my Dad offered. "Yup" He held out his hand. "Need a cup?" My uncle asks. The man looked at his hand, "Nope."

The Bowie

The man pulled an extra large Bowie knife from its sheath on his belt. It was covered with blood and so was his hand. Not that unusual in a hunting setting. "Skin your kill?" Said my Dad

The confession

"Yup. I kilt 'em. Didn't skin 'em...yet...good idea." He re-sheathed his knife. He stood. "Sorry" He walked back out into the blackness.

Bad night

We all gathered more deadfall and kept the fire going all night. We all picked up our rifles and put a round in the chamber. For Mr. Nurtz we told each other.

Epilogue

The next morning we hunted with no luck. Later around noon. A sheriff deputy and forest ranger

Asked if we had seen a man with a red beard. We told our story. " You were lucky. He killed four hunters about a half mile from here. Skinned 'em."

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