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The House of the Deer

For weeks he had been having the same nightmare of someone he had admired. But not the way that he remembered them.

By Raphael FontenellePublished 29 days ago 6 min read
The House of the Deer
Photo by Peter Herrmann on Unsplash

When I was a kid, I loved nothing more than going to sleep. Getting into a favorite pair of my pajamas and cuddling under the covers. Listening to stories that my Dad would tell me until my eyes drifted shut. Dreaming of either the stories themselves or being the hero in them. Or dreaming of things that were so much fun. Stuff that I can’t really recall now that I’m an adult. All I know is that I felt safe and loved during them.

Now I just dread going to sleep on my own.

I have a routine that I started once I moved out of the house at nineteen. I turn off all electronics in my bedroom. An hour before I go to sleep. Make myself a cup of my Mom’s famous sleepy time tea with a tiny bit of honey. I stopped for about a week before I resumed drinking it. Thinking that maybe the tea had something to do with my nightmares. When they came despite not drinking the tea I picked it back up. Needing some comfort in the night. Anyway, I put on my comfiest pajamas with slippers. Pick up a book that I don’t normally have the time to read during my busy work schedule at the store.

I wish I had more time to read lately.

When I finish reading the two chapters I assign myself, I head off to finish my routine. Putting my mug in the sink. I’ve been meaning to do the dishes, but I’ve found myself too tired lately to try to keep things tidy. At any rate I turn off all the lights before heading into the bathroom. Brush my teeth and all that good stuff. Hurry off to my bedroom and drag myself over to my bed. It’s comfortable but thanks to my nightmares it feels suffocating lately. So very suffocating. Turning off the light as I lay myself down under the covers. Slowly shutting my eyelids as I pray that the nightmare doesn’t plague me this night.

It never works but I wish that it did. I really wish that it would work as I fully submerge myself into dreamland. Opening my eyelids to a sight that I have begun to absolutely despise.

Always starting the same too. I find myself in my old bed back at my parents’ house. Unable to move as I see the door to my closet slowly open. Revealing a very skinny teenage boy, Pierre, that used to live down the street. Who as far as I know has grown up since then and lives with his husband and their three children. When he was near the closet door, he looked normal. Aside from the fact that he was skinnier than he normally was. Much too skinny if I were being honest. From what I could see in the little light of my nightlight, he was wearing jeans and a t-shirt. A white one that he tore the sleeves off himself. It had the sharpied words ‘babe magnet’ written in his terrible handwriting on the front of it. I couldn’t’ see it in the dark but I knew what it was like during the daytime. Pierre would constantly wear it despite it getting yellowed with sweat. When he realized that I saw him, he started to smile down at me. Not a friendly smile.

More like someone who knew a terrible secret they were about to share.

One that you probably didn’t want to know. Yet I couldn’t move as I lay in my childhood bed and watched him approach. Slowly morphing from the young teenage boy that I had admired when I was a little girl. Eyes slowly go from their normal warm brown hue to a creepy pale grey color. Skin slowly becoming as dried as parchment paper. Looking like I could easily tear it if I had the inclination to do so. But I never wanted to touch him. Wished that he wouldn’t come closer to me as the smell of decaying meat hit my nostrils. Making me mentally gag as his body slowly started to morph into a tired old corpse. Grin growing on his thin face to an uncomfortable degree with teeth becoming sharper and sharper. Kneeling next to my bed he would lean in until his hot breath hit my cheek in a way that disgusted me. His breath becoming the most disgusting thing that I had ever smelled in my entire life.

I wished I could turn my face away, but I couldn’t. It wasn’t bad enough that his hot garbage breath was hitting my cheek. No, the worst thing that happened was the fact that he spoke to me. In a voice that wasn’t his normal bright and chipper tone. Thanks to whatever happened to his throat it came out in a guttural growl as he urged,”Buck you have to leave the house and you have to leave now.

Otherwise, she’s going to find you and kill you.”,he warned. I have still yet to understand who this ‘she’ is. Or even why anyone would want to kill me. But ever since this nightmare I haven’t been able to sleep well. Nor have I been able to stop myself from checking that I have locked all the doors and windows. Had to be sure that I had my bedroom door locked as well and that I had a gun in my nightstand. Been going out less and less thanks to this. Barely able to talk to people that I’ve known for years. This nightmare is the reason that I’ve been resisting the urge to fall asleep anymore and I’ve been awake for at least two days now.

I don’t think I need to tell you why this isn’t wise do I?

At any rate. I’ve taken today off from work to catch up on some sleep. Tomorrow and the next day I also have off from work. Hopefully even with the terrible dream I can at least get some form of rest from all of this. I can’t just keep staying awake forever. My head feels terrible from it. I got everything that I normally do together for when I want to sleep. Even decided to listen to asmr on YouTube while I lay down for a nap. I laid my head down on the pillow as I curled up under the fluffiest throw blanket that I have. Closing my eyes as I listened to someone quietly talking to me. After everything that had happened this doesn’t make me feel as comfortable as I had hoped it would. So, I turned it off and put on soft ocean noises as I tried to drift off. A little while later I find myself startled awake by breaking glass in the living room. Somehow, I managed to get one earbud off while I was sleeping, and I heard the sound of someone speaking downstairs. Without much thought, I paused the video on my phone then quietly got to the floor. Slipping under it and arranging the blankets as I heard footsteps swiftly approaching my room. A second later the door opens, and I hear a woman’s voice mutter,”Not home?

I thought she would be here. She did take the day off.”,the woman added. She? Who was this she? It took me a moment to realize that this ‘she’ was supposed to be me and my skin crawled as I stared at the bedding. Holding my hand over my mouth I started to text 9-1-1. Telling them that someone had broken into my house. And that they were looking for me. That I didn’t know if they were armed or not but that I was afraid to find out. They told me that it would be a while before the cops could come to my house. To find a good place to hide and stay there until they arrived. Hiding under the bed was all I could do at that moment. Watching the side of the bed for when she found out that I was hiding under my bed. Like the scared little child that I felt like. Holding my hand over my mouth as I pressed my phone into my chest.

Please let the cops come soon. I don’t know what she’s going to do when she finally finds me, and I don’t want to.


About the Creator

Raphael Fontenelle

Horror movie fan trying to write decent horror.

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    Raphael FontenelleWritten by Raphael Fontenelle

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