A Scribbled Note in the Woods

The girls want me to give in, they want me to sleep. I will do my best to finish this letter before I do.

My buddies and I were at a bonfire a few months ago when I first saw them—three girls dancing together around the fire. Something about them seemed familiar. I asked my buddies if they knew the girls, none of them did. I introduced myself to one of them. She said her name was Issi and with a grin, danced back to her friends.

Once the fire burned down and everyone prepared to leave, I noticed the girls were gone. No goodbyes, no tail-lights, no dust rising from the road. The girls had vanished from the party, but lingered in my mind.

Weeks later, we got together at the same place, and once more, the girls attended. I said hello and asked if they had plans after the party. They said it depended on me.

That night I dreamed I were a buck after three doe. I followed them through the woods until we came upon this clearing. When I awoke the next morning, I lay naked in a heap of shed fur. No sign of the girls, only deer pints, hundreds of them surrounding me in the clearing.  

For days I have remained here without sleep. I hear the rifles and I am terrified, but I can no longer fight it. The girls won’t stop calling for me to sleep. I must go. I must.