The Moment, By Paul Dickens

The Moment

The forest was dead silent and the sun was due to rise over the horizon to free the life from its frosted morning tomb. It was cold and clouds of steam poured out of my mouth like a smokestack as my young body worked to keep this ten year old awake on a frosted November morning. The branches hung high in the trees, lacking their beautiful colored leaves of fall and now more resembling twisted fingers of a witch. A slight bitter breeze blew across the ground but nothing moved, everything was asleep, everything was frozen in time.
It was my first real time out hunting with my father. I was dressed in thick camouflaged pants and a jacket to match, each of which were a little too big for my still growing body, I stumbled through a recently cut cornfield behind my father. I had a bright orange hat over my already orange hair, which occasionally folded down over my eyes making the trek even more difficult. The air was thick with the smell of fall, mixing leaves, and corn together with a slight sting of cool air.

I was fifteen, it was summer, mid-July, and a hot beautiful day. I had just finished my freshman year of high school and nothing had my blood pumping more than marching band and the thought that I was about to get my drivers permit. I wasn’t thinking of school, of the advanced placement class that I was about to take sophomore year, or the summer homework that it assigned. I wasn’t thinking about anything but that exact moment, I was being a teenager, rebelling against parents who were only there to hold me back from what I really wanted to do.
Through my immaturity I felt slightly bad while I sat at my cheap wooden computer desk. I could feel the cheap corkboard underneath the one ply surface that was peeling up. Sitting in a fake leather chair, I sat staring into a cold computer screen, looking and dreaming that I owned a laptop. I typed away on my instant messaging screens, talking to friends about the beautiful day wasted away with watching television and “wats up? Brb, and g2g’s.”

I followed my father just as a pup would follow its parents. Just as innocent as the pup, I tried my hardest to make little noise, stepping over twigs and piles of leaves. Every movement I made seemed to make a glass shattering noise in the silent forest. I did not understand how fast my father could move, it was as if he knew exactly where to step, becoming part of the ground. Even though he was as tall as the trees above me, and as strong as a bull, he silently moved over the ground like the very deer we were hunting. He was dressed in the same type of outfit, but his actually fit.
The darkness was retreating and my eyes were finally able to adjust and see more of the surrounding. We had been walking on the outer rim of the forest, just out of view of a large fifty acre corn field. A bird in the distance began to sing, and a squirrel near by ran across the ground, making more noise than a tractor. My father crawled slowly and silently into a small trench on the corner of the field, backed by the forest and a large brush piles. His body nearly disappeared into the surroundings right before my eyes, motioning an arm up to have me climb into the spot.

I felt bad because I had given up a potentially good time with my father for that boring day. The original plan for July was to go visit my father in Jonesville Michigan, go to the fair, watch fireworks, grill, go to movies, golf, and watch NASCAR, for a week or two. I was so excited I canceled all of my plans with my friends, ready to go have a good time, just me and my father. He came and picked me up in his ’87 red corvette, allowing me to drive it for the first time.
“So what are we going to do this week?” I asked.
“I thought we could go spend some time at Tammy’s place,” he responded. “If that is all right with you.”
I didn’t mind. Tammy was who my father had been dating for the last couple of months. She had three kids, all younger than me so they all looked up to me like an up and coming big brother. I actually enjoyed hanging out with them, they had already felt like family even though my father had only just proposed. I sat reflecting on those last few days that turned from a fun holiday week with my father, into anger and jealousy. I wanted nothing more than to spend it with him just like we used to, instead he worked, spent time with Tammy, and left me to watch over the little kids and clean. So I went back to my mothers, angry.

I sat as still as a statue, trying my hardest not to fidget and turn as I would when I was younger. I knew I had to grow up; I had to learn how to hunt. I wanted to make my father proud of me, show how great of a student I was. Through silence I proved I could become one with the surrounding. The sun slowly rose over the horizon, presenting a slight haze and fog across the cornfield as all of the frost evaporated. My eyes moved back and forth, looking across the field in anticipation, waiting for a brown figure to appear on the tree line.
Something began to appear through the fog. It was tall, a dark brown color, with large antlers piercing out of its head. My father slowly moved his long black shotgun from his side. It felt as though seconds became minutes as he moved the butt of the gun against his right shoulder. My heart was pounding! I was about to see my father get a deer for the first time! I took deep breaths as my eyes moved back and forth from my father’s finger that rested lightly on the trigger and back at the deer still coming closer.
“Cover your ears,” my father whispered with an exhale


That was the last time we spent time together. It was understandable why he was gone during that week, he had to work. It was also understandable why I left; I wanted to have an exciting week. So now I sat at my computer desk, feeling the warm rays of the sun coming through one of the windows. Time was nearly standing still with boredom as I sipped a glass of water and continued to type away on the computer.
Suddenly the silence was broken by the vibrating and obnoxious ring tone of my phone. In one motion I flung my feet down, spun the chair and grabbed my cell phone. Still spinning like a marry-go-round in my chair, I read the caller I.D. My mother watched from another desk right next to mine. We had separate computers because I was constantly on one and my step father wanted one of his own for work. She had dark brown hair and tan skin, nearly black from the summer sun.
“It’s my dad,” I said without looking up at my mother. “Hey daddy!”
There was a slight pause on the other side of the line before an unfamiliar voice responded.
“…Uhm, I’m sorry is Bonnie there?” the voice said.
“Who is this?” I responded.

The deer fell right where it was standing as the echo from the blast rung through my ears. My father lowered his gun but suddenly the animal stood right back up and darted back across the field.

My mother stood from her chair and looked at me as I planted my feet on the ground.
“No, who is this?” I repeated into the phone.
“This is the sheriff in Jonesville, Michigan. I need to speak with Bonnie,” the man said.
I handed the phone to my mother and she gave me a look of “who is it?”

Happiness and excitement was flowing through my veins. I wanted to find the deer, I wasn’t going to loose the trail of blood that was going to lead us right to the wounded deer. My father laughed and complained about how he shouldn’t have put his gun down so fast. Hours past and miles later, we caught up.

I walked outside, looking at my mother who was leaning into my stepfather as if she needed help standing. She slammed the phone shut and turned towards me.

“There it is!” I screamed, pointing at the edge of the corn field where the deer lay. The chase began once again as it stumbled to its feet, trying to flee.

“I need to tell you and your sister something,” my mother said. She rushed me inside and nearly screamed to my sister. “It’s about your father.”

As we ran my father lifted his gun again and shot the deer. It continued to run, but soon fell to the ground.


“He was on his way home from a meeting,” my mother said staggering her words while holding back tears.

We both ran as fast as we could towards the fallen deer. My father lifted the gun to its chest and pulled the trigger once more.

“He was in an accident,” she said, bursting into tears. I could hear my world shattering apart, and felt as though someone hit me with a two by four.

BOOM! It was over. I would never forget that moment.



“He didn’t make it.”