Found some old animations on a disc dug out of dust:
Last night in my dreams, a brown bear broke into our log cabin. I screamed for my dad to kill it. He shot it in the guts with the old double-barreled shotgun he kept loaded in the corner. The bear slumped to the floor. I walked up to it and saw it was still breathing.
“It’s still alive!”
“Let him be.”
But I couldn’t. I walked to the corner. The gun was big and heavy in my arms. There was a shot left. I put the muzzle into the bear’s heart. The bear pleaded to me. The kick from the blast sent me across the room.
The bear was dead now, no chance of him coming back, and I began to cry–ashamed at my fear.
