Zephyr found himself in darkness surrounded by thousands of glowing eyes. They moved about him, circling. What were they? He was not sure. But he was afraid.

He started to take a step one way but they came in closer. He moved another way. Same thing again. His thoughts didn’t stray to where he was or how he got here. He was purely focused on his current predicament. He did not remember the house or falling asleep. He just was. All he knew was that he did not want to be here and the eyes were stopping him from leaving.

He tried another direction and as the creatures in the dark approached again he cried out, “Why won’t you let me leave?”

He closed his eyes in frustration and when he opened them again he was back home. Only it wasn’t his home. It was his aunt and uncle’s home. The one he’d lived in as a child, after his parents had died. He was sitting in his old bed, covered in his old quilt. The one his mother had knitted, each square a different colour. Even his body was his old one, childlike and spindly. He felt both small and long at the same time.

He held his hands out in front of himself and stared at them puzzled. His thoughts were murky. He knew this wasn’t right but he didn’t know why.

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

The door to his room was flung open. He turned afraid to see who it was. Would it be his mean older cousins or his dirty uncle? But it was neither. There in the door stood not a man, not a deer, but a grotesque mixture. A man’s body, a deer's head.

Zephyr was suddenly reminded of the time, that as an adult, not long out of university, he’d struck a deer on the road. It had run right out in front of him, given him no time to stop. He’d somehow survived the crash and gotten out of the car to find the deer still alive but mortally wounded lying on the road. He’d thought maybe he should put it out of it’s misery but he’d had neither the tools nor the desire to do so.

When he was nine his pet rabbit had gotten sick. Nothing had helped so Zephyr had held it, comforted it in his arms until it passed away. He had thought perhaps he could offer some comfort to the deer, but when he had approached the deer had thrashed in fear. And so Zephyr had backed away and watched, with tears rolling unchecked down his cheeks, until the deer faded from this world.

Now in this room, faced with such a monster, Zephyr wondered if it was the deer come back for revenge. But it was a fleeting thought and Zephyr’s mind soon turned to survival.

The only exit was blocked and so Zephyr did the next best thing and threw the covers over his head, just as he had done many times before, when his uncle had come for his unwanted night visits.

Zephyr cowered beneath the blankets.

Nothing came for him.

After what felt like an eternity Zephyr peaked out from under the blankets. The man-deer was gone. The door hung open enticingly.