Here’s a story I posted some time ago in r/dirtywritingprompts
The wild boar was alone, walking peacefully without a care in the world, without knowing what was coming next. Meanwhile I was in the nearby bushes, waiting for the perfect time. I was alone and it seemed like I had all the time in the world to aim correctly. It was now the perfect time for me, the time for the perfect shot. The bullet from my rifle pierced through the boar’s skull as it lied motionless. I stepped out of the bushes to claim my victory and inspect what was going to be next meal. I kneeled down and drop my rifle to the ground to get a closer look. I wondered why less people visited this place for hunting. It seemed like a great sport. Well, it was all by myself so I wasn’t complaining.