Shooting The Stars

i - deer and headlights

Nothing ever happens in my small town of Clearmont, Wyoming.

The most exciting thing to ever happen in my life was the massacre. The Texas Chainsaw Massacre.

Yes, the movie.

Let me get one thing straight- this is not the type of story you pick up for a laugh. This is not the type of story you pick up for a romance. This is not the type of story you pick up for action.

This story is a first hand account of my experience in Las Vegas, Nevada.

~~~

I walk over to the kitchen counter. I pick up the old fashioned telephone that somehow still rung.

My house was filled with antiques. My mother and I used to collect old things when I was a small child. One of the things I acquired was an old, off-white, rotary telephone. I based the premises of my entire home around it.

"Kelley. You need to get over here now."

It was one of my best friends, Mischa. I wondered what was so emergent that she had to call me at 7:14 am.

Mischa wasn't the type to do something like this. She sounded so serious in the phone call; she's usually a party animal who has a hangover every other Monday morning.

"Okay. I'm coming."

I grabbed the keys to my truck and ran outside. Obviously, this was urgent.

I fumbled for a minute, trying to find the correct key. Silver, I said to myself. It's the silver one.

After about 25 seconds of shuffling, I finally found the silver Chevy key.

I stumble out the door with my "pajamas," an LSU sweatshirt and some yoga pants, accompanied by some gray house slippers.

I knew Mischa wouldn't mind, considering we've been friends for almost 15 years now.

I hopped in my car, the only "new" thing I possess. Even though it's not technically new, it's the new-est thing I have. The 1998 Chevy never let me down, and I never let it down. Why get a new car if yours works just fine?

I cautiously pull out of the garage, making sure I don't hit my trash cans that are too close to the street.

As I drove down Pariston Street, I noticed that not many people were out that day. Even though it was, indeed, a Tuesday morning, usually my neighbors were already out greeting each other.

My next-door neighbor, Jolene Smith, is a bit sketchy. I've always noticed strange noises and sights coming from her house. I try to think nothing of it, but sometimes, curiosity kills the cat.

I started to slow down, for a deer passed through the wooded street.

The deer looked at me for a second, fear ringing in its eyes. I've seen such a sight before about a million times, but this time, it got me thinking.

Why is it so afraid?

I won't hurt it.

I'd never hurt it.

What happened if I did hurt it?

Would it die?

What happens if it does die?

These thoughts ran through my head, half a second at a time. The deer and I kept contact for three seconds flat, and I couldn't help but feel sorry for the doe.

Half a second later, it gracefully leaped out of the road and into the forest.

I sat it my car for a second, thinking about The deer.

Clear your head, I told myself. There's no point in thinking about it now.

At that time, there was no point.

I concentrated back on the road. I heard a loud honk coming from the car behind me, which was awfully weird, considering there is but 150 in our small town.

I shook out all of my thoughts as if they'd go away with a simple swing of the torso. More honks came. I pushed my foot on the gas pedal, being extra cautious in case there was another deer that ran into my headlights.