Night Forest Walk 𐂂 - Blog Posts

CRIMSON FUR

TW: Bl00d, D3ath, Gore description

There I saw it. The most magnificent creature of all. Antlers as big as the sky, reaching the leafs on the highest of the trees.

At first it started as a simple admiration. I'd follow it through the biggest of forests. I didn't know who she was, yet I followed, and I trusted her knowing I wouldn't get lost in the forests I've never roamed through before.

Oh, she was amazing. I didn't know why. I didn't know much about her. But I learned, slowly, steadily.

Soon after I reached her. I made my presence be known. She was so mesmerizing. I instantly wrapped my arms around her long beautiful neck. Her fur gave my skin the warmth I always craved. I clinged harder and harder.

I couldn't let go. How could I? After finding this fulfilling feeling, why would I ever let go off of her?

She said it was her time to go and as much as I understood I think it was time for me to put myself first. I climbed onto her back, entangled with her brown fur and beautiful antlers. I laid down and there it was.

Peace, relaxation. I've found what I've been searching for my whole life. Someone to take care of, someone to love, someone to admire.

I was bursting with feelings, so many of them. She's my dream, something I've always wanted to have, and I'll make sure I have.

With days passing she continued her usual routine, only now I was with her every step.

I occasionally sang to her, told her how amazing she is. Whenever she'd feel sad I'd make sure to wrap my hand around her neck and comfort her as best as I could.

She was so, so broken, something I haven't seen before but I didn't mind. It made me feel thrilled honestly. Finally a way to show her my undying love, somehow I can make her feel loved and not alone. I was good at this and I wanted to show her, to make her feel better.

Oh, how I loved my antlered doe. She was unique, so different from every other deer I've met. With each day her differences translated to different signs.

I've noticed her steps getting weaker and weaker. Her antlers dragging the ground behind her. Was my love not enough? Why was she feeling like this? I thought I was good at this. I thought I could make her feel better. I clinged even harder.

No matter how much I tried, I could feel her slipping away until one day she knelt down and fell to the ground. I instantly went around her neck. Instead of crying I giggled. I don't know why. I didn't want both of us to be vulnerable and sad.

I hugged her tighter. I hugged her so hard. She was everything I've ever wanted. She's the one for me. My soulmate. My everything.

My thoughts corrupted me. I couldn't see clearly. I could just feel the passion and love burning my chest alive. I didn't realize that I was the one hurting her.

I squeezed tighter and tighter. My nails dug deeper into her skin without my realization. I just wanted her to feel my love. I wanted to carve my love into her beautiful fur and skin. My grip didn't stop there. I kept digging, hugging her tighter. I could hear her silent cries, maybe a sign that she's finally getting it. I didn't understand her. We didn't speak the same language. My hands dug deeper. Slowly trying to retrace them back to me I forgot to let go. I couldn't take it anymore. I tore her apart. Her chest. Her neck. I couldn't stop smiling. I couldn't stop the burning in my chest. I couldn't help but tear her apart. More and more.

She didn't move. She endured it all. Why? We don't even know each other. All I've known is the feeling in my chest.

She let out her final breath.

The view in front of me was saddening and thrilling. Remains of my love all over my hands, stained red. I stood frozen, realization sinking in. She wasn't breathing. Someone so full of life, was missing that fact about themselves. Seeing her like this, I should have left. But her presence pulled me in even more. My mind executed any thoughts of leaving. The view in front of me was oddly beautiful, the way her eyes were opened, mouth slightly apart as the crimson trail of my love decorated her brown fur. I knelt beside her and leaned onto her now cold corpse. The warmth that once hugged me was replaced by the coldness of my raging love that has just begun.

pogodi ko sam (follow me back hi)

Gospođa koja je predivna u živo? 🤨

(HIII)

CRIMSON HANDS

TW: Gore description, bl00d, d3ath

When you love someone you try to give them every piece of you just to be noticed, just for them to stay. The thing noone ever talks about is being loved.

Every day I've roamed this forest. I known every path, every step I will take and every step I took. It used to be freeing, relaxing and something I looked forward to everyday.

With my big antlers I felt as if I could reach the highest leafs in the sky. My bulky form was respected and mesmerizing to other members of the forest. Every bugle I'd let out would send shivers so deep it reached the roots of the plants.

How did I end up in this situation?

With every step I take, I can feel it, I could feel her.

She appeared out of nowhere, ran up to me and never left. I don't know her, we haven't talked, we don't share the same language but my heart didn't have the strength to turn her away.

She was hanging on me, laying on my back, dragging me down. I couldn't hate her. All she did was love me after all. As I roamed the forest with her on my back I'd ocassionally hear her giggles and chuckles. She would decorate my antlers with flowers and her songs.

Even during the night when I'd sleep, she'd tangle herself around my antlers. My beautiful antlers.

The weight I felt was unbearable. I didn't know why, I didn't understand why.

Every day she'd tell me about her day. It wasn't a mystery though for she would spend every day with me. Every single day.

I missed who I was before her, before her company, her presence. It was drowning me.

She'd offer me gifts, sweet words and pets. I loved her. It's true.

She was mesmerizing, a good fit for me. But why do I feel so heavy at my chest?

Each walk I take now I feel as if my antlers are slumped down, dragging along the ground, leaving a trail behind me. I've never looked behind me, not until now, not until I met her.

As days passed I grew weaker and weaker as her love grew stronger. I was dying in it. It was suffocating me.

I could feel her tightening her grip around me, trying to drown my sorrows and lift my spirits with comfort. She didn't know I felt like this because of her. I was never like this, never this broken.

My walking has come to a stop as I knelt down and fell to the ground. I managed to catch a glimpse of her. She didn't leave, of course she didn't. She clinged around my neck and giggled, chuckled, laughed.

Did she not care for me?

She kept by my side as I slowly let out slow breaths. Where her arms slumped around my neck I could feel a strong burn. She was burning me. I could feel the blood rush to the surface of my skin, right under her touch.

I felt her dig into my skin. I let out a silent sound but she only smiled at that as she hugged tighter. I could feel my skin tearing apart slowly, inch by inch. The burning sensation. It was killing me, but I couldn't stop her. I don't know if I wanted to, maybe after this it'll all finally be over.

I managed to see her trembly hands as my breathing became more shallow. I was fully laying down on the sturdy ground I once roamed with confidence and freedom. I felt the stain of her love soaking deep into my fur. I saw her hands, crimson dripping of it right on top of my cheeks. She never stopped looking at me. I could see her cheeks getting rosy.

How could she like this sight of me? The sight she made. She made me like this and all I could say to her would be gratitude, if I had the strength and the voice for it.

The life I've lived. What has it come to. What did I even do in it? It all seemed pointless. But she was there. I should be happy that I met her, I really should but I can't find the happiness. It's gone. Just like my heartbeat.

I let out my final breath. And I felt it. Relief. Something I haven't felt in a long while.

THE WHITE DOE

The white doe, surrounded only by the darkness. It's not even darkness, it's just the stark contrast of difference her skin makes to the naked eye. A pure being, probably being watched by the shadows lurking in the darkness. She wouldn't bat an eye. She knew it all too well, that when you shine so bright envy will strike.

She didn't protect herself. She knew it would be pointless. Instead she lied down into the cold comfort of the ground beneath her hooves.

Her old friend, the ground, the dirt and the grass. The only thing she long knew. She knew the sounds the ground would make when she walked, trotted or ran. The way the sound would bounce off between her hooves and the solid ground.

The sound that let her determine weather she was going in the right way or not.

For she was blind.

The only purity in the whole forest and she couldn't see it herself. It only made sense to me as I observed her. She wasn't scared.

She was used to this life. Being blind, being pure yet untouchable.

But we both knew it wouldn't last long. I could see them, she could hear them. No matter how fast she would be she didn't have the energy to run.

I sat there and watched as her head softly rested on the ground. She gave up. It was a long run. I've watched her for awhile and I've noticed she was aware of my presence.

We never spoke yet we went on so many advantures together. I could say I learned from her. Watching her graceful, fast steps. Her purity and kindness. She inspired me.

Because of her I'm kind today, kinder to myself.

Now I have to watch her die.

Could I save her? No, I couldn't.

Because I am one of them. The one she gave up from.

She changed my mind, I was hesitant to do anything to her. She was so beautiful.

On the other hand, my kind striked the moment her head laid down. It was over for her.

I saw her pale white skin turn to a nice shade of black as each one of them bit into her, consuming her, changing her. She became something I am, something I was always afraid of and something I secretly disliked.

Her eyes gained color and she gained sight. It was painful, but only for a short while, I promise.

I heard her screams no matter how much she tried to stay silent and not care about the pain. I saw those beautiful tears that quickly changed their color to a darker shade.

She was consumed completely.

I stepped out of my shadow, in shame, walking to her. It was time to meet my hero. I knew it was her. She changed but it's still her, I hoped.

That hope died quickly. She wasn't herself anymore. We ruined her. I ruined her.

She stood up and took a good look at us. Dark skin, short white tails and antlers as big as the sky.

I could see the confusion on her face.

Why would her own kind consume her?

𐂂 Fawn ¦ 18 ¦ They/Them

𐂂 Personal Blog of my thoughts and perspective on the world

𐂂 I love deers <3

𐂂 Writing feels good

𐂂 The other side - @fawn-tastic

Antlers Of Life

Personal book in progess TW: Depressive thoughts and possible triggering themes 1.484 words

Chapter 1 – REGRET 

Most of the time I would rather sacrifice a good night’s sleep just to avoid waking up. It seems easier going through a day exhausted, knowing soon I'd get a good nap after a busy day, rather than dealing with the process of waking up. I’ve always hated waking up at a specific time. Sure, waking up naturally is obviously much preferred than not getting any sleep but waking up on cue does it for me.   I’m not a morning person. I hate the mornings. I hate most things, actually. 

I hate working, I hate getting up from my bed, I hate interacting with people, I hate society, I hate the afternoon, I hate rules, I hate depending on someone, I hate it when others tell me to do something, I hate myself most of the time. The list could go on and on. Sometimes, I wish to not wake up at all. The idea of eternal sleep sounds amazing. I’d be alone, I’d have full control but most of all I could breathe and relax. The feeling of taking a deep breath, your chest expanding without feeling tight or limited, the fresh air filling your lungs to the brim. It sounds nice in a literal sense, now imagine how nice it feels in a metaphorical sense, where your whole life feels like a big, fresh breath. This type of life only appears in my wildest dreams. I’ve never heard anyone describe their life like that. Because it isn’t. Life’s a bitch. But I still can’t help but wonder, like a little doe surrounded by darkness, that maybe one day, my life will be a big, fresh deep breath as lights poke through. Is it so wrong to hope for such a feeling? 

My life isn’t bad, don’t get me wrong, others have it much worse. But I still crave to feel like a person. I still crave to understand what exactly I am, what I’m feeling, why I function the way I do, why am I uncapable of some things while others nail it from the first try? I know we are supposed to be different, I know that’s the beauty of it, but sometimes I wish to be like someone else, someone who knows what they are supposed to do. And I know, I know, many will tell me; Fawn, there isn’t a single person that knows what to do with their life. I guess we shouldn’t be considered that different then. Why is it so hard to be human sometimes? Aren’t we supposed to have control over that? Over whom we are, what we do, what we strive to be and then making it all possible? Isn’t that apart of being human? Why aren’t we human yet we claim we are? 

This is why I hate rules, society, the government, parents, any kind of authority. They make you forget about yourself, about your pleasures, the things you enjoy and the things that aren’t actually impossible to achieve, you’re just too busy focusing on their needs and your own survival that you leave yourself behind. In life, most things and people will always remind us that we are the most important thing to ourselves, yet no one actually puts themselves first. Not the people who remind you of that, not you, not anyone else.  

In social situations, I always bite off more than I can chew. Actually, that’s not true. That’s just something you’re used to hearing. That’s the common situation. Where a person bites off more than they can chew. A situation where you say things you don’t mean, where you say too much. That’s not it for me. I always bite less than I can chew. I always bite a chunk that never fills me, never even reaches my belly, yet I find a way to make it satisfy me. Or maybe that’s just something I tell myself to not bite off more than I do. But... What am I so scared of? Is it guilt? No, it can’t be. Is it just general fear? Is it because I was raised like that or is it something else. Something I can’t see just yet. Maybe I’m just a people pleaser as everyone calls it. There’s always a reason behind it, but I wouldn’t really be able to see it at the moment. 

There are many things that make me feel the same. Laying in my bed, unable to get up from it, completely tied down to it. Other people such as my family constantly warn me of the concequences I’m already well aware of. Which made me realize, sometimes people’s encouragement only discourages me furthermore. It was always funny to me how it had the opposite effect of what it was meant to do. Moping in bed definitely isn’t something I thought life would have in for me, but I do admit, sometimes it’s very necessary. I don’t know how long I'd be able to not snap if I didn’t rot in my bed as much as I do. Makes me question things when I put it like that. 

 I think I’ve realized a part of why I chew less than I need. 

It’s the fact I’m afraid of being in the wrong. I don’t want to attack an innocent person; someone I simply misunderstood. It’s because I always put others in front of me. I ignore my feelings, worrying about theirs. I don’t want to be the bad guy. Anytime I’d stand up for myself, even if I was in the right, other people would go against me and stand with the one who hurt me. That action alone makes me doubt myself and my actions. What if I actually am the bad one? I just don’t want to gain confidence defending myself against someone who is actually innocent. I fear regret. I don’t want to regret standing up for myself or doubt myself, it’s not something I'm used to or something pleasant to feel. 

I’ll always regret bed rotting, no matter the amount of positive cheering I get from friends or family I still choose that every single time and I would lie if I said I didn’t regret it. Life is much more than my four walls of comfort and safety. I know that, I know that very well, but I don’t feel that. No matter how many mistakes I make, I keep making them because I always give in to my feelings. To my cravings. To whatever has that control over me, and sometimes I’m not sure I’d want to change that. It feels comfortable as much as it’s killing me. 

Regret will always follow me through my actions. And I know I can stop it; I keep doing things that make me regretful such as not getting a good night's sleep and being overly exhausted just because I didn’t want to wake up. The waking up process, as annoying as it is, doesn’t last long and frankly everyone goes through it every single day. So, why am I so keen on fighting it? It won’t kill me, and I’ll regret it anyhow. That’s a question I don’t know the answer to yet.  Feeling like this makes me frustrated, because I am working on it as much as it doesn’t seem like it.   Because in reality, there’s a big part of me that’s fighting all the other ones that put my body and mind down. A part of me that’s sick of feeling depressive, regret, guilt... A part of me that wants to be a person, a person that shines more than the sun. A person that wants to not make people feel regret like I do. And sometimes that side can get so pushy, it pushes me and the others over the edge.  

But that side makes me even more confused. It’s so different then the side I just explained, the side that has all those thoughts. I don’t know who I am. 

Because truly I actually love the mornings and not missing out a part of the day, I love working and feeling my body move, I love getting up from my bed and making another day, I love interacting with people and learning new things about them, I love the society, at least one part of it, the part that supports other people, I love the afternoon and the warmth given by the sun, I still hate the rules though, I love being independent but it also feels relaxing to sometimes depend on someone else, I love it when others tell me what to do because my memory isn’t the best and they are just trying to help and I’m definitely still learning to love myself most of the time.   

So, who am I? The negative part of my thoughts or the positive one fighting to break to the surface?