The picture of Deer in my mind
Chapter 1. The day Ellias killed a deer
It was Elias's 8th birthday when he first shot a deer.
His parents were out somewhere in the city to buy his present. It was already peach-black, but they couldn't go see his son without any present. But the night was dark and the air was filled with cold dew.
It was peach-black, Elias remembered. He was hiding in the closet, covering himself behind thick winter coats. He could still smell old clothes and mildew, he could still feel the rough and fizzy edge of his mother's cheap black coat. He sniffed at it to lower his heartbeat, to bring back his memory of when he was in his mother's arms. Then, suddenly, footsteps came close. Everything surrounding him vibrated by the thud of a stranger's steps. He thought of the moment that he was about to die, his heart couldn't lower its beat and the steps were getting closer, and he couldn't even blink. Then, at the corner of the closet, he found a gun. Elias tried hard to remind his mother, but it didn't work. He put his trembling hands on the gun and lifted it. It was cold and heavy. It felt just the same as the heavy silence smoking in the dark. The footstep stopped. And suddenly, the door opened, and he shot. Yes, he shot a deer.
He remembers its eyes screaming silently and its eyelids stretching slowly. It was like watching a wind carrying dandelion seeds. Like a sigh flowing and mixing in the wind. And several things happened suddenly. A light coming between the curtains beamed across the stranger's face and the stranger took a half step back, back into the dark. The stranger's eyes were staring right into Elias's eyes as it couldn't see anymore, as it was only memorizing Ellias's eyes as the last thing to see. Above those eyes, there were wrinkles on the forehead. It looked familiar and solitary like an empty valley. And there was a large bang, which was the sound of dark swallowing a body entirely. Ellias was stunned, like a broken videotape replaying the same pictures, he kept seeing that empty valley, and when a thought came through his mind, he came close to the stranger. The floor was wet with a thick dark liquid as if dark itself was bleeding. Somewhere around the corner, Ellias's mother shouted and ran into the dark, and her scream pierced through Ellias's ears and ran on and on into the night. After a couple of hours, his mother grudged Ellias hard and told him; "You shot a deer Ellias, you shot a deer." But Ellias was eight and he knew he shot his father. The night was bleeding and the long sigh was feeling and clouding all mere lights coming from the curtain, painting every inch in black as it was preparing a funeral.
