Billy meets Death

Billy stood in the middle of the country road. Illinois, 1955, not many cars then.
The squirrel chattered and threw nuts at him.
“Stupid squirrel!”
He threw nuts back.
A shot rang out, the squirrel fell from the tree.
“Good eating tonight!”
It was his first encounter with death.
A tear rolled down his cheek.

Written for Jezri’s Nightmare…55 Word Challenge.

Photos were furnished with the prompt!

33 thoughts on “Billy meets Death

  1. You’re right about the way experiences like this sear into the fabric of a person. My daughters were talking about the time when they were all little girls. A deer had blundered into a neighbor’s garden and was racing around the fenced area in panic. She called for help, and we all thought we’d see the Humane Society come to rescue Bambi. My girls still remember watching through the fence as the man strode into the yard, lifted his rifle, and shot.

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    • Yeah, these things hurt, but are more common than we think, especially in the U.S. where wild-life still share living space in small communities. I was fascinated when I came to visit my sis in Southern Illionis not so long ago with a family of deer that strolled through the streets at dawn.

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    • Know what you mean… I think back then a lot of people filled the pot like this…know my father used to bring rabbit home (or would it have been hare?). I’ve never eaten squirrel but I know of people who do. Wonder if they stewed it?

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      • A guy I went to college with ate squirrel. He would keep trying to catch one and came close a lot of times. No guns on campus. One time he came back from a break with his catch and cooked them up in the dormitory kitchen. It was . . . disturbing really.

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