[=9]I believe that I am right when I say I have never felt this empty. Whatever happened to me in the past always seemed like a blur, but today my feelings were clearer than ever. I do not know what caused this sudden grief and sorrow, but it struck me hard. Hard and painful like a poisoned arrow. A pain that keeps on lingering and slowly kills you from the inside.

I will spare you the experience that has scarred my soul for good, for I know that it will not add anything to your lives. Your happy, frolicking lives. Just like the couple I watched today, dressed in beautiful golden pelts, that lit up in the light of the shining sun.
They were running and jumping, laughing and touching each other. Yes, touching each other. I envied the little nuzzled they shared, even if it did not last long. Do you know why? Would you care at all, dear reader? I am afraid not, but still I am willing to open my heart a bit and share it with you. In all honesty, I feel the need to vent a bit, hoping it will make me feel better. Even though it will not.

I will not touch and will not be touched, by anyone. The brushing of one’s fur against mine is something I do not treasure. In fact, it disgusts me. Deeply, to the core. Ever since what he did to me I cannot bare to feel a stag’s touch again. He scarred me. He tainted me. He destroyed me from the inside and took my ability to love. To trust. Just because he sought power. Power that was insignificant to me anyway.

[=9]My friend. My dear, dear friend. I think you still have a lot to learn about me…


I am not a simple doe, as you might have noticed. I am fearful yet I am not depressed. The rainfall calms me down and the divine waters of the Crying Idol purify me. Clouds were still drifting in front of the lovely sun, so my bath at the sacred idol was cold as ice. But the refreshment was worth the pain, stinging in my shaky legs as I hopelessly tried to shake the water from my colourful pelt. What I fool I was, taking a bath while knowing I had no chance to dry myself in the next few hours. But it could not be helped, I thought, so I continued my daily stroll.

Sometimes I randomly bellow, because I am intrigued by the sound my skull mask makes. But I unwillingly attracted some attention; a few stags seemed to be curious about my call. They returned my bellow and I quickly hid myself inside the Crying Idol. Yes, inside of the statue. I am able to walk through or hide myself in anything physically present, even other living beings. For long I have kept this a secret, but recently I have come to realize nobody would ever think of abusing this information. Why would they? What for? So even though I am closed down, I am showing you a page of the book that is normally locked for every curious eye but my own.

Anyway, my thoughts are trailing off.



All of the stags seemed to be losing interest, but one. My being was shocked to see his presence; silver pelt, huge, blood red antlers and a skull mask like my own. Secretly I missed the purple flowers he wore the other day, their scent has the same effect on me like honey has on a bumblebee.

[=9]You will not witness many written words from my hoof, but my being strongly felt the need to pour out every feeling it has been holding down.
My experience with this lovely paradise goes back far, but my social skills are equal to those of a newborn fawn. Meaning that I would rather crawl up to the thick, warm fur of my mother, than to look into the eyes of a stranger and awkwardly bow before them with shaking legs. I will not tell you my name, for it does not clear up any questions you might have about me, neither will it make your contact with me any more pleasant.



Until this rainy day in May I thought I had witnessed all the wonders in the world, but I was wrong.
I have been wandering this forest unnoticed, like a spirit, for a very, very long time. But recently I shook of my invisible coating and threw myself out in the open. A wise choice? I have yet to find out.

Today I woke up cold and shaky, my head still pounding from the short amount of sleep. I found myself in a purple flower patch, like usually. Only this time the fluttering butterflies, with their powdered wings and fragile bodies had disappeared, together with the warmth of the sun. Slowly I stood up, silently exploring the area around me. I was sleepy, but not tired. I was cold, but not freezing. I was on my own, but not lonely. I decided to treat myself with some of the purple beauties and went for a little stroll.
I tried to keep my attention focused on the marvellous creation called nature, but I kept slipping away. A familiar scent was taking me, forcing me to follow another road. Please understand me when I say I had no saying in this, no power. My legs were forced to track down the scent, the scent of someone I had become obsessed over.