Hunting

Laurie stepped out quietly into the cool crisp forest morning. The sky hinted at the sun's arrival as feathery wisps of light, first violet then gradually red, streaked the eastern horizon. As the forest brightened, the vapory mist that hovered at the ground began to sway as it rose in the morning light, almost like fairies adorned in pink taffeta dancing a greeting to the new day. It was so peaceful, quiet, the sounds of a frantic mechanical world fading from memory and only the sweet songs of birds waking to a new dawn greeting her ears. She almost forgot in that moment, her two worlds drifting further apart, why she was here.

The images caressing her thoughts, she crept quietly through the stillness, aware that she was not alone in the forest. She sensed her quarry, but could not see it. She passed through a grove of trees and stopped next to an outcropping of rocks. Not far from where she stood, just beyond a subtle rise, she thought she saw movement. She froze in her tracks.

Laurie had anticipated this hunt for weeks. She was apprehensive. The fact that she was hunting today meant that things had changed in her life. She knew the change was inevitable, and this morning's hunt only confirmed that she, herself, was caught, much like the illusive thing she hunted. She breathed deeply and waited.

Moments later she saw movement again. There it was! Quietly, imperceptibly, she raised her weapon. More clearly now as the sky brightened, she saw the long brown hair swaying rhythmically in the morning breeze. Laurie ever-so-slowly shifted her position until her adversary was clearly in sight. She took a deep breath, held it, and squeezed the trigger. . . .

Thus ended the hunt for Laurie's first wig.

She found it and shot it dead.
Now she wears it on her head!


P.S. I was getting tired of the same old dry reporting. This seemed like a good way to describe the search for a wig for my dear wife, who would much prefer to keep her own hair, but has begun her "hunt" for a temporary substitute.