I suppose, due to the nature of this page, a lot of you have heard of a “not-deer”. For those of you who haven’t, I pray you never find out firsthand. Oh! Where are My manners? My name is Madison, I’m almost 25 years old, and I’ve lived in a tiny village called Ullin (pronounced UH•lin) for about 2 years now. Shortly after moving here, I encountered one of these creatures said to only roam the Appalachian states. I know, it was after dark and you’re going to ask if I’d been drinking or anything, or you’re gonna say that my eyes were playing tricks on me with a deer in some shadows. First of all, I was stone cold sober that night, as I don’t drink, save for once every other blue moon. Secondly, this… This thing was standing directly under a street light. I can’t be losing my mind, right?…. Right?
Pardon me, I’m getting ahead of myself. Allow me to start from the top.
It was a stagnant, humid August evening in tiny podunk Ullin (not YOU•lin), the sun had recently set and the stars had just started to wink to life in the gradient canvas of navy blue, purple and black overhead, so I’d probably set it at about 9-9:15 in the evening. Things were fairly quiet as they usually are in this little town, a dog barking in the distance and the occasional whisper of a car going down the main road about a block and a half from my house. I live with my wonderful fiancé (we’ll call him Kevin, as I’m not sure he’d want his identity known, and his name isn’t really relevant to the occurrence), directly across the street from a lovely, small baseball park. I used to love going for evening walks through this little park, until That Night.
I finished letting our two dogs outside for a run and potty before their bedtime and fed our deaf cat, Lance; then I grabbed up my double-decker-cheeseburger-shaped-coffee-mug-slash-pipe, baggie of weed (yes, I do smoke pot regularly, but don’t jump to any conclusions yet) and lucky Bic lighter, which is red with a picture of Morty Smith from Rick and Morty printed on it, and after telling my fur kids that I loved them and would return shortly, stepped out into the soupy night air. It was so warm I half considered staying inside where it was more comfortable. But I’d had a long day at work at the local dollar store, and definitely needed to get some mono e mono with the cool grass and my favorite smoking piece. Maybe that’d be mono e mono e mono? I dunno, anyway, where was I? Oh, yes. I was crossing the street to hop over the ditch and onto the side of the park, when I heard the strangest, most terrifying sound, something straight out of a nightmare.
The best way I could describe it would be like the cry of some kind of animal giving birth, but the sound was so wet and gargled, as though the laboring beast’s throat were slit. I was midjump when this horrendous, nightmare-fueling wail, and it scared me so badly that I’d tried to stop in midair, succeeded, only to fall into the ditch, probably 3 or 4 feet deep not including the extra 8-10 inches of height I’d had over said ditch. Pain exploded up my leg, blooming from my ankle in a sensation I know all too well as a sprain, me being a klutz and all. I let out a cry of my own, grabbing my already swelling ankle and rushing to tighten my high-top shoe with a stick pushed down on either side as a makeshift splint until I could hobble back across the street. After making the impromptu support for my injured foot, I finally looked around for the source of what had given me such a fright. That’s when I saw it, standing directly under a street light alongside a paved road leading through the park, ears perked and gaze trained directly on me.
The creature was bigger than any deer I’d ever seen, even dwarfing me in its horrible stature. I’m no small woman by any means, standing at 6 ft tall and about 270-300 lbs. But this… I don’t know, animal? It had to be all of my height, just at the shoulder. And the rack atop his head was a sight to behold in and of itself, or probably would have been, had it not been so badly battered, and in some parts completely snapped off at the end. At one point, I would have wagered that the beast was at least 24-26 points. He would have smashed the record for trophy buck, which is currently 22 points, for those who are curious. The moment I could tear my gaze away from the monstrous, darkly stained antlers crowning the beast, is the moment I really noticed that something was terribly, terribly wrong with the creature. Its fur was filthy and matted with what I can only hope wasn’t the same deep crimson stuff staining its antlers, but due to how some patches of its body gleamed as though encrusted with liquefied rubies under the overhead light, my hopes are probably in vain.
Yes, several chunks of its skin were completely gone, exposed flesh wriggling with plump, white little bodies that would occasionally fall away onto the paved road below. This creature was beyond sickly, he looked all but zombified. His skin barely hung on his bones, and his legs were just bent all wrong. This could’ve been a malformed deer that had just been abandoned young and gotten deathly ill, but I can’t express enough to you all the sheer SIZE of this thing. The bottom of its chin would easily come over the top of a brand-new, big pickup truck like a Dually or something. It couldn’t be any smaller than a fully grown moose, I swear to you! Despite its horribly emaciated, even rotted state, it was massive, and it was beyond imposing.
But the most horrifying part of all about this creature, is the eyes, or eye. One had obviously been gouged out at some point, replaced by a puckered, inflamed mass of blood, pus and more maggots, but the other one held enough malice – pure, unmistakable disgust and outrage at my very existence – for the both of them. I was completely frozen for what felt like just a moment, terrified beyond screaming at the sight of an almost skinless deer skull snarling with rage at me atop such a grotesquely huge body. The lack of visible muscle framing the creature gave me no illusions to the level of its strength, somehow I just know that if the thing wants me dead, I’ll be dead.
But finally the creature gave me what I can only call a nod of its disgusting, antlered head, then turned away and sauntered off towards the neighboring strip of woods. I swear it felt like I was only there for about a minute or two, but when I could finally move, blink, breathe, the eastern skies we’re starting to lighten. I had several missed calls and voicemails from a worried future fiancé, and numerous texts as well, all wondering where I was and why I hadn’t come to bed.
I rushed back home across the street and wrapped up my ankle to stave off the swelling, topped off with the occasional ice pack, but I couldn’t sleep for days after what I’d seen, felt and experienced. I was getting paranoid, jumpy, and my partner, godsend that he is, started to worry. I finally tried to tell him about what happened and what I’d experienced, but predictably he thought I’d just been tripping balls. However, notice that I hadn’t even reached the park before this happened, I never got to light up. I was not under any influence when I’d seen the beast, not even when I’d lost almost 8 hours of time.
Why am I telling you all this now, after almost 2 years of silence? Well, the past three nights, I’ve been hearing wet, gutteral snorts and these terrible, snapping scrape sounds out by the tree in the front yard. And the heavy hoof sounds the precede and succeed those noises are more befitting those of a horse, or maybe a moose, rather than any deer. I’m beginning to wonder if the beast from across the street hadn’t changed his mind about letting me survive witnessing his terrible majesty.