I ran through the snow, it was harder than what I was used to. I fell and slammed my elbows onto the solid ice. Tears burn my cheeks and I don’t think I’m even breathing. The way a carol of bells attacks you is how I was hunted. I am a deer who missed migration, I am being hunted. The ground crunches but it also thuds with each stomp I make in my escape.

Where are you?

Can’t you see that it’s me? I forget you don’t know me. You don’t know I’m not a deer. You just see something to shoot. You don’t care that I’m an actual living person.

As I ran through the lights that decorated the town, the gun draws near. I can smell the gunpowder. When will you shoot me? When will my mistakes catch up to me?

Stupid little deer.

Asking to be shot.