"Wild Dangers" by Ella Frajnd
The deer’s eyes are what frighten me most about it. They are a deep crimson color, like the blood that blooms on my bottom lip when I bite too hard. In their depths is a presence of heartless cruelty, on the edge of hysteria, like it doesn’t care how many are hurt. As long as the deer can destroy things, lives don’t matter. In that instant, the animal’s bloodred eyes fall on me. I notice not only its eyes, like two slits of dangerous hunger, but its bellow, full of hearty screams and screeches explodes into one roar. A roar that yearns for power. A roar that craves destruction. A roar that sends chills prickling down my spine.
Then it charges me.
Just minutes ago, I was calm, carefree. Lost in my own world of elves and fairies and witches that melt into boiling bubbly substances when water is splashed on them. The sun was painted a golden summer yellow, soft and hazy in the afternoon light. Strips of sunlight filtered through the trees, staining me in golden stripes. I was sprawled on my stomach in the grass, my legs crossed lazily behind me, and a thick book open in front of me. The words on the page bent around me until I wasn’t on my front yard anymore, our faded brick house behind me. I was in the world between reality and dreams. A world where I didn’t have to think or care about anything. It was the perfect summer afternoon.
I am not surprised when the deer bursts out of the trees at the end of the street, a large and handsome buck with branches of antlers growing on both sides of its head. Deer aren’t a rare sight in rural Portland, Maine. But then it starts a rampage through the neighborhood, knocking an empty trash bin in front of my neighbor’s house out of its way, its antlers denting the side. It begins racing in rabid, hysterical circles like it wants to get rid of something hanging onto the folds of its long, mud caked fur. I see its angry, savage eyes full of hate and rage.
I snap out of my trance as the deer gallops closer to me. Snatching my book and scrambling to my feet, I rush into the house slamming the door behind me, my eyes wide with fear. My mother is sunken into the couch, scrolling through pictures on her phone. Her eyes trail to me, hearing the sound the door makes when it clangs against the door frame. Then she sees my frightened eyes and her face molds into a concerned frown.
“What’s wrong hon-”
Then, a bang.
I point to the window, too afraid to form words. The deer is pawing at the walls, trying to get in. Trying, it seems, to kill me.
My mom sees the deer and shrieks a glass shattering, bloodcurdling scream. She is breathing heavily, like she is trying to heave a weight off her chest. She calms down long enough to whisper,
“You call 911. I’m calling the police.”
She doesn’t have to tell me twice. I run up the stairs, grabbing my phone off the bedside table in my room. I dial the three numbers, my fingers rattling and my teeth chittering. My voice is breathless and terrified when they answer.
I tell the woman on the line everything, tears pricking my eyes in my utter terror. I don’t breathe until I hear the words, “We’re on our way,” muffled on the phone.
I sink down to the floor, my arms wrapped around my knees, and command myself to be brave. I’m trying to calm myself down when, my little sister, Bree walks out of her room and sees me curled up against the wall.
“What’s wrong?” Bree asks, a hint of concern curling around her tone. “I heard Mom screaming. What’s happening?”
“Okay,” I say breathless. “Please don’t freak out. 911 is on the way,”
“Maya!?” Bree demands.
Mom rushes up the stairs and pulls both of us into suffocating grips under her arms as we hear sirens blaring up our street. I break out of my mom’s embrace and peer out the window. Firemen in bright red suits crowd around the deer, which is growing angrier by the minute. I watch as it kicks one of the men, sending him falling onto the pavement with a clunk, unconscious. The police are pulling over now. My heart pounds as one of them bursts out of the car, gun in hand, and releases a bullet into the deer’s leg.
And another one into the deer’s heart.
We race downstairs and outside, craning our necks to see if the deer is really dead. The window has spiders of cracks crawling up the glass, and there is a gaping hole in the flower box below it, but otherwise the house is just fine.
“Thank you,” my mother gasps, her eyes brushing over the men and women who saved us.
We should have known that the deer would be on the news the next day. Its crimson eyes and shrieking roar staining me with memories all over again. Even before the deer, we should have known we were all in danger when squirrels with savage red eyes started scuttling towards us on walks and bunnies screeched at us through the window. When we saw one chipmunk killing another over a nut.
Stories about crazy, savage animals have been creeping up all over the news in the past few months like a sick reminder that we’re not safe anymore. And not only in Maine.
We’re all in danger, and there’s no use denying it any longer.
Ella Frajnd is 13 years old; she lives in Falmouth, Maine and attends Falmouth Middle School. Ella loves to spend her free time writing for fun and playing with her little dog, Luna.