I was just about to feast upon my latest hunt; an innocent little hunt which I had found lost in the woods and shot down with my wooden bow, when I heard an unfamiliar sound. It sounded like a faint growl, but the voice was not that of an animal. I felt as if it were an injured human crying for help so I turned around to see a sight I had never seen before.
There he was, at my door, a man, with pitch black lifeless eyes and rotten green skin. He looked as if he had died ages ago, but he was stood up straight with his arms stretched forward, staring at me through the small window on my door. At first I froze, unable to act. Soon I regained my ability to move and decided to let him in. I slowly open the door and jumped back. He stormed right in with no hesitation. His clothes were torn and there were cuts all over his body but he showed no signs of injury. He came running after me and I not knowing what to do only stood there. When he was close, he sprung up and tried to bite. This is when I learned, the man wasn’t friendly, he was a killer just like me but his victims were men and his hunger was for flesh. I ran full speed to my bow on the table and rapidly shot at him. He didn’t put up much of a fight and with a few quick arrows he was out. I had killed a man, a real living man, though his objectives were the same, but it was I who was the murderer in this situation.
I stood there for a few moments, my hunger completely gone. There lay the body of my first true victim and I had done it with no intention apart from pure survival. I had no idea what to do from here on, should I repent or should I live on?
The next morning I carried his body out in the open and gave him a proper burial. I kept his grave separate from my parents, I was somehow ashamed that they would see this man and be disappointed in me.