Once, on a camping trip in the far east, some friends and I
settled in a forest. We drank a few beers, had a few
laughs, like every other camping trip we'd had. But after
several hours, when we fell asleep, a bear came into our
camp. I suddenly woke up, noticing a large figure outside. I
always sleep with my shotgun next to my pillow, for
precautions. I pulled it out, aimed to its body, but
something happened. I began to tremble like a leaf in the
wind. The others woke up and shouted at me "Shoot it,
damnit! Pull the trigger already!", but I couldn't. I.. I
just could't. I froze in that position for what seemed like
days had passed. But then, I heard a gunshot, and I noticed
my shotgun wasn't in my hands anymore. The dead animal laid
on the ground, dying in pain, and I still couldn't move. The
following day, I decided to bury it. The others went
fishing, I told them I'd catch up later. It took me a while
to drag it to the hole I dug, but I succeeded.
While burying it, I noticed it move. I quickly ran to get
the shotgun, but I tripped on something on the way to it.
The bear barely got out, but when it did, I felt that
feeling again. I froze in my place. He continued to move
closer and closer towards me, I was panicking. I crawled as
fast as I physically could away from it and reached for the
weapon. It wasn't loaded, and I was shaking all the time, I
couldnt even put any bullets in it. As it stood up and
raised its arm to hit me, I regained my control over myself.
I held the end of the barrel with my hands and swung at the
beast's leg. It crashed with agony, screaming in pain.I got
up and looked it in the eyes. I saw the great fear. I swung
again, hitting its stomach. Hit after hit, all over the
animal's body, I was beginning to get tired. After beating
the hell out of him, I shot his head to make sure this time
he won't come back to life. After the shot, birds flew away
from the trees. My friends came running back to the camp,
wondering what had happened.They saw the dead beast on the
ground next to me, its head split open. They helped me bury
it again, this time we were completely sure it wasn't going
to jump on us for a third time.
But that feeling still made me curious; why did I suddenly
feel that unstoppable rage, after having a bad case of
panicking? That was the only thing on my mind while going
back home. My wife was so scared when I told her the story,
she said she'll never let me go traveling in the wilderness
ever again. We had a long argument about my freedom and my
personal safety. Hours passed. She was getting tired, while
I was getting angry about the situation. Like coming out of
nowhere, I felt that rage build up again. I grinned
mischievously, and my wife got puzzled. She slowly backed
away from me, scared of what might or might not happen. I
picked a vase from the table that was right next to me and
held it up to her face. Tears began to drop from her face.
She tried to escape, but I was too strong for her, I didn't
let her go. She begged for mercy, but I couldn't control my
actions any longer. Something came over and gained control
over my mind. I moved my hand holding the vase back and
smashed it on her face. Glass flew everywhere. Bloodstains
began to thicken on the cold floor. My weapon had no use
now, so I pushed her down and looked for another object in
the apartment. She stayed on the floor, still crying, hoping
I would stop. But it didn't matter to me, I was on another
level now. Ahh, the kitchen. I noticed in the corner of my
eye this fabulous new knife, long and sharp. It was so
perfect, so appealing to the eye, I just couldn't resist and
I picked it up. I checked the giant weapon in every angle,
adoring its shining beauty. In some angles, I could see my
own reflection on it. My wife begged me "No, no! Please,
don't! Think about what you're doing! It's wrong!" But I was
above right or wrong. This was something that I couldn't
stop myself from doing. I walked to her and let the blade
feel her blood-covered face. Smoothly and slowly, I lowered
it to her neck, and with a quick movement, I slit her throat
open. I watched the blood ooze down her neck, as she tried
to speak. Several seconds passed, and her pulse was no
longer heard through her wrist. I licked the edge of the
knife, enjoying the taste of the blood. Another swing, more
of the red fluid came spurting out of her already-dead body.
Again and again, I swung and cut her over and over again,
until most of the red thick liquid was on the outside. I
breathed heavily, getting back to reality. I got up and
walked through that door, not regretting a moment of it,
only wishing it would have taken longer to finish. I got
into my car and decided to fly back to that magical forest,
where I will build my own home and live there for the rest
of my life.