Diary of a clay pigeon
They never said anything about shooting while I was in flight - and me being shot at!! When they launched us from the high house, all I thought was that I was going to be free at last. Free to soar... to land on whichever patch of green that receives me and call it my eternal resting place.
And then there were gunshots loud as thunder. As soon as we were slung across the air, one by one the liberated were blasted into irregular pieces, their featherless remnants falling like meteor rain. Wait a minute, are we not free? Aren't our bodies built to last till we lie down in green pastures? This can't possibly be our fate as Elects. But the sight of my people's ashes sprinkled over the trees offered neither reason nor comfort.
Through the trees on my way down, I caught flashing glimpses of our hunter. My survival that day owed to the fact that the shooter aiming at us was a killer-in-training. My life was spared for the day, but I was deeply tumbled. That night in the dark of the return chute leading back to the high house, I heard it being discussed through trembling voices of my fellow survivors that we will relive this horrible day till to the twisted satisfaction of our hunters we are all dead.