My father disappeared while hunting in the Bulgarian mountains.

I now know what caused it.

Written by Mr. Pagan 665.

I've been hunting ever since I could remember.

I think my first experience was with my father at the age of seven,

where we went on a camping trip near a forested region of the mountain range of Stara-Pelina.

It is a long chain of mountains that cut through the middle of the Bulgarian land.

We were hunting wild boar and elk.

It was the middle of September and the soil was slightly dampened from a heavy downpour that had lasted about three days.

I remember staying in a small hunting hut that my father and some of his friends used to own.

It was surrounded by pines and bushes that bloomed with berries in the spring and summer.

We used to go there to hunt for a whole weekend and then come back with either a nice prize or empty-handed.

But whatever the prize was, the ultimate one was the experience.

After my dad's disappearance, however, haunting had become less frequent. I remember clearly the

last time that I ever saw him. It was December and I saw him cleaning his rifle and preparing his stuff at the kitchen

table. With his back turned to me, I heard his warm voice in that chilly morning.

Are you sure you cannot come with me, Ivan? He asked. There was a slight hopefulness in his

words as if he expected an answer that would fill him

with joy that day. Dad, I'm sorry, but I can't this weekend. I need to study for my exam this

Monday and I'll be leaving this Sunday morning to go back to the Capitol. But don't worry. This

semester is almost at its end and I'll be back next week for almost a month for the winter break.

And then we can do whatever you want.

...