A Girl and Her Fawn; A Man and His Dog

Little boxes made of ticky-tacky...

I am running down a dark suburban street lined with cookie cutter hedges like something out of an episode of Desperate Housewives. I am out of breath, covered in a sheen of sweat and terrified, apparently I’ve exerted myself thus in an attempt to avoid an as of yet unseen zombie horde. People pop out from around the hedges and lunge towards me, but as each gets closer I recognize them as normal people emulating myself and running wildly towards the hope of safety at various distant locations. I round a bend in the road and realize that I am being accompanied by, as well as am responsible for the safety of a small fawn with magical powers that has the ability to talk to me.

How I felt in high school

The “safe-house” I have been attempting to reach over the past few blocks is finally in sight, and as I turn to the fawn to reassure it, it bleats at me to run, the mass of zombies is nearly upon us. Out of nowhere they come sprinting by the hundreds. We break into a desperate sprint and without time to bang hurriedly on the door, we jump at the side of the house and land semi-safely on the roof. The zombies recognize a lost cause when they see one and to our relief they disperse as quickly as they had assembled and we are left alone to pant happily on the shingles.

Leap of faith

Two small heads pop out of a second story window and look up the side of the house at us. They are smiling, and quickly open a small window so we can enter the house through the attic. Once inside they hug us and provide us with fresh clothing and what meager portions of food they can spare. I settle down quickly and get to the business of fortifying the safe-house. We put up a large outer cage in front of the entryway similar to those found in jewelery stores and pawn shops. This way we can let people in but there is a buffer so we can be certain that they aren’t infected.

I think this is where Anne Rice lives

The first pair to arrive are a burly older man and his dog in a big red pickup truck. We usher them in safely but the man is very grave indeed having just lost his entire family to a zombie surge. Relaxing on the couch, he notices the fawn I have brought with me and immediately drops to the ground in awe. He tells us that this is no ordinary fawn, that the fawn is in fact pregnant, through some sort of immaculate conception. The fawn’s offspring will bring religion back to the people of earth and cure the zombies. We are all terrified. This animal will soon force us to abandon everything we believed before in favor of some bible jargon none of us have ever cared to learn.

I want the hat, and the cane... and the monocle that is most definitely inside his jacket.

Had the man and his dog not guarded the fawn so diligently I am sure that one of us would have killed it. After a long labor the fawn finally gave birth, and when we looked upon the newborn, we were no longer afraid. We totally and without question accepted its faith and abandoned our past beliefs. It left us to heal the sickness that had engulfed the planet, and we were hopeful that it would meet with a similar success wherever it went.


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