Open Season

Link to article: Open Season.

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> The children asked him if to kill was not a sin
> "Not when he looked so fierce", his mummy butted in
> "If looks could kill, it would have been us instead of him"
= (The Continuing Story of Bungalow Bill - The Beatles)

Open Season ]]

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##orange|**ThrowawayDeerGuy**## 8/2/2025 (Sat) 6:22:11 #78155243
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When I was a kid, my dad decided to take me hunting for the first time.

We didn’t live out in the boonies or anything, but there was a patch of forest a few miles east of our place. We didn't do it because of food or anything, he just thought it was a fun hobby, something the two of us could bond over. And I guess with the deer population being so out of control back then, it didn’t feel weird. Just… a weekend thing.

It was just me and him, we got to the woods around dusk. I do know how to use a gun, of course, he always trained me to defend myself, although a hunting rifle is way clunkier than any handgun.

Honestly, the whole trip wasn’t all that exciting at first. We spotted maybe two or three deer, and I missed every shot. My dad kept cheering me on, trying to keep my spirits up, but I could tell he knew I was getting frustrated.

Well, I //did// manage to shoot a deer. It was standing still, looked a bit weird from a distance, just kind of... there. I raised my rifle, held my breath for what felt like forever, and pulled the trigger. One clean shot. The thing dropped like a sack of bricks, and my dad started clapping me on the back, proud as hell.

When we walked up to the deer, he suddenly grew dead silent. I looked down at the deer.

Pouring out of its mouth was a cascade of saliva, like a broken faucet. Its eyes weren’t looking at me- they were locked just over my shoulder, like it was watching something behind me. Its ears were all limp, and its body... Jesus. It looked starved. You could see the ribs pushing against its skin like they were trying to break free. It couldn't have weighed more than three hundred pounds, maybe less.

I reached out, almost instinctively, and my dad yanked my hand away. He just said, real firm, “We should go.”

I don't remember what we did next, all I can recall was me seating in the backseat while he made a few calls. I don’t know who. I just stared out the window, watching the trees roll by.

And then traffic hit. We came to a stop. I looked out the window and… I swear to God I saw that deer. Or something shaped like it. It was just standing there by the sidewalk. Same hunched posture. Same drooping ears. Same saliva dripping onto the concrete. I blinked, and it was gone.

We sat in silence for a while, until finally my dad asked, “You okay?”

I didn’t answer.

He laughed, a bit awkwardly, and told me, “Sorry you had to see that. Nature’s weird sometimes. In a few days, we'll just forget about this entire incident.”

Then he cleared his throat and said, “So, uh… you want to grab a snack? I’ve got a few bucks with your name on it.”

He smiled at me. I think I managed to nod.
We pulled into a gas station a few minutes later. He handed me a five and gave me this quick pat on the head.

“Go get yourself something nice.”

I grabbed a bag of chips, might've been Lays or Doritos, and waited at the counter while the cashier rang me up. As I stood there, I looked out the window, and I //swear// I saw that deer.

Standing behind some guy’s truck, slouched like before. Drool still spilling out like it had no control over it. I knew it was the same one. I felt it. My stomach dropped. The cashier snapped me out of it, asking if I wanted my receipt or something, and when I looked back outside, the truck was pulling away. No deer. Nothing. Just a red stain.

My dad kept trying to make small talk, but I didn't say a word back, just sitting in the backseat, looking out the window and eating my chips.

We got home around ten. Luckily, it was summer break or something, so I didn’t have to worry about school the next day. I remember waking up late that night, real groggy. I had to pee, so I left my room and stepped into the hallway.

And it was there.

Standing right in the middle of the hallway, just a few feet from me. That god damn deer was right there, two feet in front of me. I swear, I could hear it breathing. I couldn’t even scream. My heart just dropped into my gut and I froze.

I squeezed my eyes shut. Stayed like that for a few seconds. When I opened them again… it was gone. But you know what was there?

A god damn puddle of saliva.

Before I get any flack for posting this kind of stuff, I need you to stay with me for a bit.

The next thing I remember is bolting into my parents’ room, shaking my dad awake, crying, yelling about some monster in the house. He sat up, put a hand on my shoulder, and told me not to worry.

He said, “You’ll forget about it.”

Exactly like that.

Not “It was just a dream.” Not “It’s okay, you’re safe.” Just that I'll forget.

Now, you’re probably wondering why the hell I’m even talking about this now.

I still live in this place, my dad's in a retirement home, and my mom has been gone for awhile, so I ended up taking the house.

I was cleaning through the attic and I found a box. It had a bunch of junk inside of it, although one thing caught my eye. A photo.

In that image was me, and my dad, and that same fucking deer.

And the deer isn't the worst part, either. I was hand feeding it, I was feeding that //thing//. Saliva oozing on my hand, grains barely getting into it's malformed mouth, lapping food out of my hand like a childhood pet.

And there were more photos, so many fucking photos.

Me grinning next to it. Hugging it. Riding on its back with my mom holding my hand. In one of them, it looked like we were at a damn picnic.

Some of these images are in my own backyard, there's at least four of them near a sign that has "ANIMAL HOSPITAL" carved in. I tried to google it, but I can't find anything apart from local vet clinics.

And I don’t remember ANY of it. Not a second. These weren’t baby pictures, the oldest I was in these photos is no younger than fourteen.

For more context, I went on that hunting trip when I was SIXTEEN.

It's not right.

I’m going to see my dad tomorrow. I'll try to stay in touch.
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Open Season

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