the deer and the hunter

I saw you dragging her to the forest. She was fair, her skin was white as snow. Her lips was red as blood. She is beautiful. I was only a dot-nosed deer who was confused if a hunter like you could love an animal like me. You stabbed her chest, and as you took her heart, you took mine as well.

You forgot that the forest was where we met. It was the place that made me love you, every single day that I see you hunting the other wild. You didn't see me, until I showed myself to you. I want to be hunted by you. I ran when you were too near, but when you can't catch up anymore, I walked. I loved it when I could look at your face clearly for the first time, instead of glancing at you from afar.

One day, I decided for you to finally catch me. Even if the sharpness of your knife would cause me pain, I was willing to take it. I waited. And waited. And waited.

But you didn't come back. I never saw your footsteps on the mud again. But still, I waited.

Every time I woke up in the forest, I look at the sun rising and think of you alone. I was wondering when are you going to come back. When will you hunt for me again? I miss the chase. I missed you. Even if everything wasn't sure. Even when I said I love you, and you said you like me for my fur. A rock hit me on the chest.

Then I thought if you were just the same as the others who hunted me and left me?

Until one morning, the sun rose. And I didn't think of you anymore. I didn't wait for you. I felt nothing. I didn't want to be chased anymore. I wanted to be alone and be once again with the wild that doesn't feel anything. That's what a deer was supposed to do in the first place - not to feel anything; to be simply hunted for my fur and die in the arms of many hunters.

There was another hunter. He came. But I didn't do the chase. Because I didn't want to feel anything. I wasn't supposed to. I am selfish of myself.

Then you came back to the forest, armed with your pen instead of the knife that I would've allowed you to kill me with. Even with the pen, you still said you like me. And you think you love me. And the rock hit me on the chest for the second time around.

The forest is where we met. It is where I loved you, and where you liked me and thought you love me. It is where I waited for you. You chased me again. But I was already hiding from you. The deer is afraid again. The deer doesn't want to feel anything. You searched. Then you left off maybe to another forest.

I am alone in the forest. Maybe you are alone too. Someday, maybe we'll find each other again. Someday.

For now, I hope you won't burn the forest.

"Sana ang hunter at usa maging magkaibigan. Para walang mamamatay, at walang papatayin."

*This story was inspired by a reading in my HUM1 class: Snow, Glass Apples