#theladyoraclereblogs

[theladyoracle]

🖤

[theladyoracle]

Literally phenomenal! 🖤✨️🫶🏻

how tommie got sick.

it all started with a deer. just at the edge of the woods, he thought he could see antlers peeking out from the thick copse of trees. his head had only just lifted from the dashboard of his crumpled truck. smoke billowed from the engine. his head pounded in rhythm to the melody trying to tear through the shattered radio. flashing blue and red lights bounced against the truck; the sirens filled the air.

the deer remained static. it was a grand, looming creature, and far larger than any stag tommie had ever seen before. despite the sirens, the smoke, the smell of crumpled metal and blood, it remained separate from the chaos. the only thing that gave away it was conscious of tommie at all was its eyes. they bore into him, reflecting back the mess the man had created. he wanted to bore back, but his left eye didn’t seem to want to open.

the sirens grew louder, and the sound of rubber against gravel roared out into the open air. the deer’s ear flicked to the side, and all of a sudden, it bounded off into the forest.

just as suddenly, tommie remembered he had legs. they were cramped and folded underneath the bloated airbag, and something sticky begged his face to stay stuck to the dashboard, but he felt a pull. a compulsion, a need. he had to go after that creature.

his limbs untangled from the crumpled metal with no small effort. a small river of crimson tied him to crash even after he stumbled out into the forest with lead feet. his hands were clenched around the axe from the truck. he didn’t remember picking it up.

the sirens faded the deeper he went. tripping on his feet, the stench of smoke gave way to mud and rain. cicadas buzzed all around him. off in the distance, he could hear the deer.

faster, he urged himself. please. faster.

he was limping. bleeding. injured. each step was fire inside him, was acid in an open wound. but the deer beckoned. he could see the shadow of its antlers moving in the haze ahead.

he wasn’t sure how long he followed the thing. it was long enough for the pain to melt into nothingness, long enough for his knees to buckle with every step. in his haze, he'd lost track of the stag. he couldn’t see the antlers anymore. he couldn’t even hear it moving.

the forest had changed around him. the pines were gone, replaced by bare oaks and aspens. the stench of rot began to fill his nose, but he had to continue.

another step, another, another. slower, but still—

his foot caught on something, and he fell over the whole of it. his knees met something wet, it squelched under his weight. the rest of him met mud and grass. still, he felt the faceless body of death upon him, now.

he didn’t have to peel his face from the earth to recognize the snapping sound when he fell as antlers. he didn’t have to suck in another wheezing breath to know how suddenly the sour stench had sharpened. he didn’t have to move his legs to feel the fleeting warmth of the corpse at his feet. he didn’t have any energy left to pull himself up off the ground, anyways.

he’d found the thing. maybe that was enough. maybe, when it finally all went black, he could wake up as a changed creature.