The Not Deer

It all happened so fast.

I was driving home; it was late. You don’t know how dark a night can be until you drive on mountain roads. It jumped out from the trees.

I heard a sharp cry as I slammed the brakes. Metal ripped, glass shattered, and then all I heard were my own ragged breaths.

The broken headlight flickered, sending flashes of life across its bloodied corpse. I felt weightless, numbed by adrenaline, as I stepped out of my truck and examined its body.

It looked like a deer, but something wasn’t right about it. I had lived around deer my whole life and seen plenty up close.

This wasn’t like any deer I had ever seen. Its legs were too long. Its eyes were yellow and sharp, like a wolf. Its antlers were twisted and gnarled like old roots.

Before I could look closer, it leaped onto its feet with incredible speed and tore off into the darkness. I could have sworn it was dead.

I looked over the front of my car; my eyes struggled to follow the path of twisted metal and shattered headlights. I would deal with it later, I decided to drive home.

We were throwing a dinner party at the house. There was food, drinks, and a nice big bonfire in the backyard. It was good, but my mind kept returning to that thing I hit on the way home.

The thing that looked like a deer but wasn’t a deer. The Not Deer. I had another drink and then another, trying to distract myself. Then, the screams started.

It all happened so fast.

My sweat-covered hands slid across the cool metal of the shotgun. With shaking fingers, I loaded a shell and cocked it with a sharp crack.

The Not Deer didn’t flinch. Its eyes reflected the glow of patio lighting behind me. Blood-soaked teeth emerged from beneath the decaying skin around its lips.

Sharp eyes burrowed into me. Its lanky body faded into the inky black night of the forest behind it.

I didn’t dare look away. I already knew what sights lay behind me. Blood soaking into the concrete. Shattered bone and fractured skulls. Friends and family who had been picked apart like prey in the Serengeti.

Wood and branches cracked just out of sight. I couldn't resist the urge to look; my gaze shifted to another of the Not Deer, standing mere feet from me.

I curled my finger around the trigger. It remained still. Just one shot left. I had to make it count.

Another sound, just to my right. Reflexes took hold; I swung the barrel to match. The Not Deer stood on its hind legs, towering over me with an empty gaze.

Scuffed hooves came down on my nose. I tasted blood as I hit the ground. The Not Deer gathered around. They didn't feel guilty. They have no remorse.

It all happened so fast.

I pulled the trigger as their teeth burrowed into my skin.