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Description

I have been hunting for decades but have never been able to bag my prey. There are no heads mounted on my wall, no high stories of stalking, wrangling, or capture. My quarry is illusory in the way the monster beneath my bed can be heard breathing raspy breaths but is always invisible to the eye except for an ephemeral glimpse floating on the periphery reflecting off dust motes hovering in shafts of moonlight...