Lines

Sentinel

The word he always heard was enigma. At him, around him, his life was bound to the noise that word makes. He spotted a buck from miles away, ran up to it in haste, and he remarked how it would not turn away.

They raised their heads, sharpened and beady eyes. Those orbs of sight, cold and yet pure, they see him as he is. Those spheres of vision take him in, that enigmatic frame, that burgeoning form. But not a soul could determine why they did not flee. And just as well, how his eyes extended beyond the veil. No man should see beyond that forbidden horizon.

Witnessing what man should not, he could not even shout before it gripped him. He killed them at first, with a gun, with a knife, with his bare hands. Soaked with deer blood, smothered in the stench death, it was all absorbed in his clothes and in his mind. Those that remained alive would finally drive him from the idea that they are to be hunted. He could not stare into the eyes of what he wishes to be prey, those eyes that taunt him away. Why do they not run? Why do they simply observe him as he commits that act? They raised their heads - in unison they defy him, in unison they refrain from escape.

Showing his friend how even the stags would not run was a decision he arrived upon after several days of the phenomenon, and instantly he realized this to be a mistake. What he thought would be an ally yielded a change of heart, what should have been an ally became a howling voice screeching toward the town. He became the spectacle overnight as everyone would visit to point and laugh. "Get a load of the deer lover," "Check out the freak," "Looks more beast than man." Some would laugh, most would turn away and lower their heads. At least until he entered their personal boundaries, then they would flee. He tried to grab a woman who did not laugh, he pleaded with her to stay, he didn't understand. She refrained from laughing, but in its place did she scream. "Freak" would echo in his mind, the enigma of the wooded grove. And yet the deer remained fearless. His own kind would turn away, the deer would raise their heads.

Those all but forgotten woods, hallowed bark and shivering branch, they hid him away from the hostile crowds. Eventually his family became more of the same, and in turn no other place felt of home save for those familiar trees. The deer raised their heads, and in time they let him close his eyes. He woke up as though he had slept for the first time, and he too raised his head with them.

He was left shivering at first, but soon his skin toughened, leather wrapped around the bone, he would not burden the cold again. He walked above their twitching ears, the beady eyes watching him. They bared their necks in what he believed to be mockery. Soon he realized they were offering themselves, and he remained steadfast in aversion to slaying them; he could not murder a willing target. They raised their heads now fully trusting him.

Days turned to weeks, and soon those hands still dirtied by blood were swollen with strength and skin so calloused it felt more of stone than of life. He grew larger, towering over the most imposing stag, but still he felt weak and helpless as they were hunted down by those once claimed as peers. Before he was behind the scope, now they raise their heads and he finds himself mourning their death.

Residing in the woods, he could not keep himself hidden forever. Soon one unlucky soul found his sleeping frame in the brush. This made the hunter yelp in surprise, and the sleeping freak awoke. He rose his head, his irises melting away to yield similarly beady eyes muddied beyond the blue of his former visage.

Before the curious man could turn, the enigma grabbed the face of what was once a neighbor - a brother in flesh. The rifle was new, but it could not protect him as his head was twisted. The crack louder than any simple branch startled the birds away. The deer, curious themselves, approached the scene. They raised their heads to investigate, and saw their new protector over the broken pile. The enigma was now the sentinel of the woods.

Weeks became months, and months became years. His size continued to expand as the skin unfolded to give way to the muscle and sinew. His bones could hardly contain the new giant. His heart beat rapidly to accommodate, and yet they raised their heads to gaze upon the dying man; upon the giant of the woods, upon their worthy sentinel.

The largest stag - the one that first raised its head - approached him. It did not raise its head, but rather it brushed against his hand. The fur felt comforting and yet the air was crisper than he had ever felt before. Before his acclimation to the woods, it would have stolen the warmth of his breath. He followed the great stag, the rest raised their heads and yet would not look upon him today.

At first he was fearful, why were the rest unable to look him in the eyes? Was he destined to become yet another freak and be exiled by them too? These questions would be forgotten as the hulking stag guided him to a cave he had never seen before. The cave gurgled and reverberated with an energy that threatened to pull him into the darkness. He wanted to step forward to enter it, but he could only lock his eyes upon the void. His peripheral missed the sight of his guide turning and running away. There were no heads to raise, he was alone with the maw of the cave.

After what felt like centuries of time, the ambiguous noises coalesced into a song that curdled his blood. It felt ghoulishly familiar, as though it were a man in attempt. He could decipher that this was no man, and yet he was unsure if this was intentional or if it were a trap for someone who lacked a keen ear. His heart quaked in fury to keep up with its demands as he clenched his fists in anticipation.

The cave creature exited its domain, a pair of engorged eyes locked on his own. Its mouth went to create a greeting, but the flesh that was there had melted over its lips to create the noise that could almost sound human from afar. Up close, it merely resembled death.

He went to greet it himself but his nerve had robbed him of any voice. The great sentinel was dwarfed by the wraith from the cave. It appeared to tilt its head slightly, and remembering what the deer did he raised his head. It felt natural, instinctual, and indeed it made the wraith don what could be described as a smile. Pili appeared to form from its liquid skin, he thought it might attempt to swallow him in its unsightly leather. But the tendrils stayed short. The epiphany arose in his mind when it raised its hand. He merely excited it.

Before he could question its intent, it grabbed him firmly by the waist and raised him high into the air. Its forearm alone was almost the size of his gargantuan body, and he could do nothing more but acquiesce to its game. As he felt the rush of wind against his cheek, he turned his head to see what made him more fearful than the wraith. A sea of deer all gazed upon him. Their eyes blacker than the darkness that bled into his sight as the wraith crushed him and released a song for the dead. He attempted to cry out in pain, but his heart exploded and intercepted what should have been the refrain for the wraith's song. The fiend released its toy and returned to its domain, an aura of disappointment and sorrow flooding over the woods

The deer raised their heads no more as their sentinel was absorbed into the mud.