The Deer

I initially thought it was wolves, that had killed the young buck that lay before me. The grass beneath it had turned a sickly brown as the blood dried. After closer inspection I find a hole running through the entirety of the buck. If it weren’t for all the blood the hole would probably be big enough to look through.

“Dad, come take a look.” I point out the wound and continue. “I’m thinking maybe someone shot him.”

My father strokes his beard deep in thought for a bit before answering.

“The hole looks way too big for a rifle round. A spear maybe? But who would be stupid and or desperate enough to go hunting with a spear? I dunno, but let’s be nice and let the wolves finish their supper. We can go find our own meal.”

There was something off about the whole thing. As we walk away I take one last glance at the gruesome scene. Adding to the weird gut feeling I have, near the carcass I see some heat distortion. Which is pretty odd as it was a relatively chilly November, and by all logic it’s not hot enough for that.

Our usual hunting spot was a small meadow that seemed to be beautiful enough to attract both people and animals. The trip to the spot is long, and because of that we usually take a break in an abandoned old cottage on the way there. My father once told me as a child that an old man used to live there and he would eat not only deer but little boys as well. Yet it never frightened me no matter how many times he told me that story, with the details of it changing ever so slightly every time he retold it.

We brush the leaves off the old oak stools and lay our bags down on the floor of the cottage. My father pulls out a thermos can from his backpack and pours me a cup before pouring another for himself.

“So how are things with Jack?”

My first instinct is to lie and say everything is fine between us, but instead I turn my gaze away from him and tell him the truth.

“We broke up a while ago. It just didn’t work out.”

“Oh that’s a shame, I quite liked him.”

“I know you did, I saw how you two got on so well. That’s why I didn’t tell you sooner.”

“Hey look, it doesn’t matter what I think. I liked him, but it’s more important that you like whoever you date.”

“Thanks” I answer meekly and stare at my coffee.

I lightly tap the cup and watch as it reverberates ever so lightly and continues to do so even after I stop tapping as the wind coming through the broken windows lightly caresses the surface of the nearly black liquid.

We arrive at the meadow and find it undisturbed by anyone but ourselves. My father with a hint of childlike glee walks to the center of the meadow where the sun illuminates his whole body.

He takes in the air of the forest in a greedy deep breath.

Watching him you might think he was trying the swallow the light that shone on him. He just keeps taking it in, with his jaw agape.

The illusion is shattered as I watch my father’s feet rise off the ground and his blood streams down through the air like I’m watching his blood explode out of him in slow motion.

I once again see the heat distortion, but this time it takes shape around the blood that’s gushing out of my father. The phenomena slowly becomes a dark shade of brown and takes the form of what at first seems like a small buck with one solitary antler that looks more like a lance than anything else. A lance that has impaled my father.

Unlike any deer it turns its head directly towards me in order to take a look at me. With its eyes on my back, I run.

I find my way back to the cottage, rushing to the first room with a sturdy door on it. Luckily the bedroom that I entered has mostly intact curtains on the window. I close them and grab my rifle from my back.

I take my time inserting the magazine as my hands are shaking and that’s the only way I can load my rifle without making much noise. I lean my body as close to the wall next to the window as I can, and steady my breathing before taking a peek outside.

My throat closes up when I spot the creature, less than 20 feet from me, thankfully looking towards the forest, away from me.

I grab my rifle and take aim just like my father taught me to. As I exhale I squeeze the trigger and the bullet goes right where I want it to. Without a doubt piercing the creature’s vital organs cleanly. I expect a cry of pain, and a dark red liquid to pulse out of the bullet hole. Yet instead, all I hear is my shot echoing in the woods, and a black ooze pouring out of the creature. As the ooze stops flowing the hole in the creature at first turns a bloody red, then quickly into a light pinkish shade, then black again, and finally the same shade of brown that covers the whole creature. Even after a clean shot the creature stands firmly and slowly turns to face me. The creature should be dying right now, but instead, it stares at me with its eyes seeing right into my soul.

It reveals a maw of sharp teeth, like purpose-made for shredding the buck I saw earlier today, or the flesh straight off of my body. My instinct tells me that even undead zombies and alike can be killed with a shot right in the brain. So that is where I will place my next shot.

As I pull the bolt on my rifle to chamber another round, the creature stares at me. Its eyes completely black. Like a shark carefully appraising its prey.

As I stand up and lift my loaded rifle the creature seems to understand the situation. It’s kill or be killed for the both of us. It charges and I pull the trigger. It collapses and slides a short distance stopping only a few feet from me. I expect the creature to not get up after this, but everything about this defies expectation, so I chamber another round.

As I walk to the front of the cottage to examine the carcass I find that it doesn’t look the same as it had only a few seconds ago. The brown fur it had has turned black and oily. The oily fur slides off of the creature in disgusting clumps that only a few seconds later turn entirely liquid, slowly revealing the naked body of a human. A human with a gaping hole in their chest, still red with fresh blood. My father. I want to hold him, but my body won’t move, and I can only see a small part of him now. My vision is blocked by what looks like a white spear that’s tarnished with deep red and an almost rusty shade of brown. And beginning from my stomach, I start to feel so very cold.

---

Written in 2021 for the prompt “Be wary for deer with forward facing eyes, they are death waiting in disguise. There joints bend backwards, their teeth like a dogs. Their pelts are brown, like chestnuts and logs. They eat the flesh of dying and dead. They care not if it’s black, bloody, red. Shoot them directly in the head.” by u/CartoonLogic31 on r/WritingPrompts