The Fever.
This is the story of how I caught the fever. Some people won't believe me and will say that I asked for it or walked in to it with my arms wide open. Others laugh it off like they think my interest in deer hunting is nothing more than the equivalent of their fantasy football league. I cant debate it because i've never done fantasy, but my dreams have been haunted by the crunch of leaves lately. This is no fantasy, it is real. The shadows really move and the shifting wind keeps me up at night. I say it proudly now like i’ve made it through, I beat it, I am immune now. But as I flick the remote, I know i'm kidding myself. I know that he is still there in the same places i've seen him. Down behind the inside edge of the swamp, or up near the top of the hill hiding in the tangled thicket along the margin of the field, or traveling the hill looking for acorns or a heated lover. I have seen his fresh scrapes, and I know he’ll be there again. I could be there n