The Deer's Eye, Word Count 300

“Now listen to me, don’t get your head in a spin,” Granny said to him, spitting the clove she’d been chewing onto the ground.

“That there is dinner,” she said, nodding toward the buck that lay still in the distance.

“What you need to understand is that deer wanted to die. It chose you to give itself to, and that gift must not be taken for granted.”

Benjamin turned his eight year old head and looked up into his granny’s dark eyes. Looking into her eyes scared him. It was like falling into space. If one could fall into space. Her eyes were their own galaxy. In them lied mystery and a deep understanding of the world and the way things worked. Granny had the wisdom of someone who had lived a thousand lifetimes. It was why people in their village respected her.

“Now,” Granny said. “I want you to go take that arrow from the deer.”

Benny shook his head.

Granny’s eyes narrowed.

“You’re going to take out that arrow, Benjamin. But first…” Granny reached to where she had her hunting knife holstered at her hip. “I want you to make sure that its dead,” she handed the knife to him.

Benny didn’t want to, but he knew they wouldn’t be leaving the forest until he did. He looked up at the sky, saw the thunderclouds rolling in, and walked over to the deer. As he got closer, he saw its dark eye swivel toward him. He froze. In the deer’s eye he saw his reflection, then beyond it, saw the same wisdom, the same understanding he’d seen in his Granny’s.

The first drop of rain hit his cheek. Or was that a tear? The thunder boomed, or was that his heart? He kneeled. Then he plunged the knife.