There is a hunter in the forest. He has quietly taken up a hidden position within a bush. Before him are a wide range of animals which he can target: a deer, a badger, an owl and more, each with their own merits for being the selected prey. This hunter is quite green but it is known that he holds plenty of promise. As such the people from his village have also quietly gathered in the forest to watch what kind of prey the hunter will choose to shoot and how capable he is of a clean kill.
The bow is nicely crafted. It’s no masterpiece, but for one constructed by the hunter himself so early in his career it’s graceful curves, polished wood and occasional charming (if rustic) decorative carvings elicit nods of respect. The arrow too is well made, with fine, colourful fletching, an almost perfectly straight shaft and a sharp head.
The hunter draws the bow. There is a quiet intake of breath from both he and his audience. Pulling far back, the string quivers with the energy that is about to unleash the arrow at its intended.
Then, deliberately, and quite without mistake, the hunter aims and fires at a rock on the ground. The arrow hits the rock bang in the centre, shattering it’s sleek wooden shaft. All the bow’s potential remains only as that. As the animals, the wolf with its pelt, the stag with its antlers, the rabbit with its meat, all scatter at the sound, the hunter stands triumphantly and turns to his audience, bow raised aloft in victory. “Ladies and gentlemen, the rock has been struck dead on!”
The crowd dissipates, dissatisfied, without new food, fur or trophies and with a profound confusion over what lead to the hunter’s decision that the rock would be his target.
If you’ve found this review too experimental and utterly irrelevant, then I’ve still made my point about Ekimmu The Dead Lust.