CW: severe head trauma, gore.
Last September, I went on a hunting trip for the first and last time.
My family has always been full of skilled hunters. A tradition passed down from one generation to the last. Both of my parents were proud hunters, as well as their parents before them. For as long as I can remember, we would spend the autumn season in a small cabin near the edge of civilization, but not too far out of reach from school or work. I grew up with the wilderness sitting right outside of my backyard, and its presence always tempted me with a promise. A promise that someday I would be out there, with a rifle in my hand and determination in my soul. I would find some mighty game, be it a stag, a moose, or even a bear, and I'd be able to mount its head high above my wall. A proud symbol for all to see and a mastery over nature.
Throughout my teenage years, my father has taken me out on many practice runs during various hunting seasons. I spent a good long while cutting my teeth on ducks, quails, and rabbits. Very small and harmless things, fitting for a beginner like me. As I grew more experienced, I was able to move on to slightly larger beasts, such as adolescent deer or foxes.
A year ago, I finally turned eighteen. The dawn of my adulthood had arrived, and with it came the desire for independence. For many months, I discussed with my folks the possibility of a lone hunt. A chance to prove that I could be out in those woods alone and provide for the family. At first, my mother and father were hesitant. It took a great deal of conversing, pleading and persuading, but I eventually broke them down. During our next annual fall getaway, they would grant me a chance to hunt on my own for a single night. It would be my first hunt as a man, and I had to make it count.
On a cold, yet bright afternoon, I walked out of that cabin with a brave heart and a focused mind. I clutched onto that rifle as if my own life depended on it, and I wandered off the cabin grounds and into the woodlands with a slow cautiousness. Of course, I was familiar with these woods. I had already been through them a thousand times with my father guiding me every step of the way. And yet, the forest seemed larger than it ever had before, even compared to when I was a child. The trees all seemed to tower and loom over me ominously, and I could hear just about every sound echoing in the distance. Every single chirp or cracking stick within my radius reached my eardrums, putting me on a needless edge. The further I traveled, the more the woods became a world their own. A world I seemed to be carelessly intruding.
Suddenly, I heard a noise. A distinctive snap. The sound of a branch breaking in two.
In an instant, I became alert. My head shot up, and looked around in every possible direction. And yet, I remained still, in case a creature may be nearby. With slow, hesitant footsteps, I crept towards a large cluster of bushes up ahead in an effort to follow the sound. Gently and quietly, I pushed through until I could see past them. Beyond the thicket was a large, empty clearing, with nothing but a few patches of grass and the sunlight reaching down within its center.
I waited for a few moments, hoping for the source of the noise to arise. Tensely, I stood in place, with my hands on my rifle and my eyes searching for signs of life. Before long, my patience began to run out, and I made the decision to move on. But just as I started to lower my gun, I was hit with an unusual sight.
Up ahead, shrouded underneath the trees, were two eyes. Eyes that glowed a radiant shade of orange, like two burning flames or a pair of topaz stones. They glistened in the dark, akin to the moon's luminescence against the night sky. From the moment I saw them, it felt like I was being pulled into a deep hypnosis. I stared at them in awe, and soon noticed the swirling flecks of red and yellow marked along the pupils. They were staring straight ahead, blankly. And whether they truly were or not, its burning corneas seemed to be directed toward my very soul.
As I gazed at them, far too mesmerized to think, something stepped into the light. I could hear the distinctive but near-silent treading of hooves and along with it, a massive stag wandered into the clearing. If his eyes hadn't left me in utter shock, the rest of his magnificent body certainly did. The beast was about nine feet tall, with a size and stature comparable to a moose. Its coat was a warm, hickory brown, the color of fallen leaves amidst late November. But most striking above all else was its antlers. Above his head was a glorious crown of horns, reaching towards the sky and branching apart. His majestic rack was even taller than his own body, and towered with a noble grace.
Once again, I was dumbstruck. Too paralyzed by the beauty before me to react, think, or move. I watched as it walked further into the open space and bent its neck down to peacefully graze. Every movement it made, no matter how small, has such undeniable grace. It was truly hard to turn away from but from the back of my mind, a prodding thought arose. I began to imagine those hypnotic eyes and imposing antlers placed on my wall for all to see and admire. The image of such an astonishing creature on display tempted me and made my heart race. It was a deep desire that was impossible to ignore, and the only thing strong enough to break me from my open-mouthed daze.
My hands were shaking as I brought my rifle up to my head, but I managed to steady them. I aimed it straight ahead, right towards its neck. My finger lay on the trigger, desperately holding back until the time was right. My forehead was drenched in sweat, and my heart thumped rapidly like a drum. Once the stag raised its head, I knew I had to take my shot.
Bang.
Everything went dark.
Right as the bullet came shooting out of my gun, the sun disappeared. It all happened in a millisecond, with no rhyme or reason. In alarm, I tumbled back and looked all over in horrified confusion. I turned up towards the sky and saw nothing but pitch black all around me. It was as if it were suddenly nighttime, but without the comforting presence of the moon or stars.
Then, the leaves on all the trees began to quiver and wilt. Within seconds, they shriveled up and lost all their color. They quickly grew weaker and weaker, until they broke free from their branches. Just as quickly as they withered away, they all fell to the forest floor into massive heaps. Before I knew it, I was surrounded by bare, dead-looking trees and an endless sea of desecrated plant life.
My heart was banging hard against my chest. I kept looking all around at the madness laying before me, cluelessly hoping for some kind of explanation. There wasn't one.
All there was the stag, who was standing a few feet in front of me.
And staring straight at me.
I was too terrified to move. It felt impossible to. Just from looking into those piercing, kaleidoscopic eyes, my body had lost all control of itself. All I could do was sit back, with my heart and head both pounding, and reach near hyperventilation. Slowly, the beast walked towards me. His footsteps were now completely silent, devoid of the already hushed treading from before. Once he reached me, he stopped…and loomed over me.
He continued to stare at me with those eyes. Those fucking eyes.
He lowered his head down to my level, bringing his haunting glare to mere inches away from my face. Up close, it was like looking into a churning pit of lava. I could see the deep intricacies of every mark or shimmer beaming inside them, but more noticeably, I could see my reflection within them. I saw my own petrified, hysterical face with my mouth hanging agape and my forehead drenched in sweat. Witnessing my own terror hardly helped, as my sanity was visibly hanging on by a thread.
And then, I made the mistake of blinking. The stag was gone.
And in its place was a bullet. A bullet coming right towards me.
And aiming for the middle of my head.
Before I could even think to react, the bullet plunged its way into the center of my forehead. It cracked right into the base of my skull, and no doubt dug into my brain. All over, I could feel my head fracturing and breaking apart at the seams. With a dreadful BURST, my entire cranium exploded into a grisly pulp. My face erupted into a thick, nauseating mass of blood, bone and flying bits of cerebrum.
I couldn't tell you how it's possible to scream with an exploded head, but I did. I surely did. I screamed and shrieked and wailed as much as humanly possible. My voice tore violently through my voice to express the sheer, unfathomable agony I was experiencing. I howled and screeched viscerally for what seemed like hours. In that moment, all I knew was pain.
Suddenly, the sun was back.
And the leaves had all returned to their rightful place.
Although I was still screaming, I stopped to look around and at myself. It turned out that I was rolling and writhing around on the ground the entire time, like a dying worm on a sidewalk. My hands shot up to feel my face. I was shocked to find that my head was still all in one piece, but the soft texture of my flesh brought some mild comfort. Steadily, my cries faded away and my rapid heaving seized.
When I finally collected myself, I looked up, and much to my dismay, the stag was still there. Still standing, and still staring.
Without a second thought, I shuffled to my feet. I fled in a blind panic, sprinting faster than I had ever gone before and without looking back. Even if the beast was chasing me, I could never look back. At all and any cost, I never wanted to see those eyes again.
When I returned to the cabin, I said nothing to my folks. I lied, saying that I wasn't able to find anything. They were both disappointed, but I couldn't care less. From now on, I was done with thoughts of hunting, and I stopped asking about going on trips. I spent the rest of the vacation locked away in my room, trying to forget about that horrible day out in the woods...
And trying not to imagine those eyes mounted on my wall.