hello hello, mr. vertigo ! /- diary entry v.I
August 13, 2009 - 7:05am — SardonicWit
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Hooves pound violently against the ground, tossing up the various earths
of the soil, churning them together in the air behind me as I run. No, do you not think run to be
an understatement? I do not run, presumably ; but rather do I sprint, I flee, I dance upon the very
wind that rushes past my ears. My legs extend forwards and back to the fullest extent, muscles
burning as my tendons and joints strain to keep me aloft. The sheer speed and fleeting milliseconds
in which I actually touch the ground are fleeting.
Deer are said to be land animals. I do not think this to be the case.
Rather, do we not fly?
But why, why am I propelling myself forward with such haste? Where
am I going?
I know not the answers to either of those, only that I am. I have no reason not to? The pulse of
my heart, pumping blood with a speed that rivals my own matches the beat of my hooves
against the ground. There is not always a reason to run, but there is no reason not to.
Tensing my back leg muscles, I leap repeatedly over stones and logs, slowing down after
the shock of each one, then amping up and sprinting once more. But after this last one,
something in my ankle begins to smite, and I pause in my tracks, settling into a decent lope,
favoring that tender front leg.
Nothing seemed to be too wrong, but to be sure, I set my face towards what I call home
in this forest ; a short distance away, luckily. Upon sighting the single log, I rush to it,
leaning my weight against it as I settle down amongst the ferns and wheat plants on one
end, ignoring the grass and red flowers at the other. Moving a few stones away with my
face, I set my injured leg akimbo, licking it repeatedly. Nothing moved beneath my tongue,
and there was no blood, so I was confused. An ache was present, but it was not
explainible. Ah, well. It seems nothing worth thinking any further about, so I curl up upon myself,
treating the leg gingerly and with care. I close my eyes, set deep in my white and red stained face,
nestling into my own black fur.
Splitting my eyelids open in what seems to only have been a few
minutes, I awaken, and stretch, joints popping back into place and spine aligning with a
satisfying crunch. My ankle felt much better ; those hours of pleasant rest had did
it well.
But what is this? Rain?
Moisture falls from a damp sky into my already-soaked pelt, making it seem darker than usual.
I peer up at it, sockets and stains unaffected by it. However, this was such an eerie feeling. Mist
and fog trails at the edges of my vision, and I hear bellows in the distance.
I decide to head towards the pond, a general congregating area for the deer here, and hope to
find some consolance in it. My log was only a little whiles away, so I make good time and arrive
on the muddy lower bank to see others there as well. Some I know, some I don't. I hang back,
seeking shelter beneath the boughs of the weeping willows.
My freakish appearance, perhaps, is to blame for the events next. I
hate the way I look ; my black pelt, exposed ribs, and sickly face are not the best to be making
friends with. My antlers, as well, are large and intimidating, the frontal tines glimmering
with malice. However, I never attempt to hurt anyone, now do I?
A doe sees me first, and shrinks away. I suppose my figure outlined in the mist isn't a good
first impression, so I take a few slow steps forward, and she steps back. Other deer notice now,
and most hold their ground, standing firm.
Some ignore me, and so I continue, bowing and making gentle mooing noises. She shrinks
away and rears half-heartedly, flailing her front limbs whilst cowering and trying to protect
herself. A few other deer, one or two, take it up as well, and I back up as they go forward ;
pushed to anger I act.
Rearing up and bellowing loudly, I shake my head with a vigor, and take a few sudden steps
forth, then pause to bow again. The two stags sniff me cautiously while the doe stands behind
them. I try to act friendly, but her whimpering is distracting, so I sniff her and bow one last time.
The stags walk off, back to the main group a few steps away, and I tilt my head sadly and
in a submissive manner.
" It's alright, miss. I'm Vertigo, and I won't hurt thee. So sorry for startling and giving you
a fright earlier ; is thou all right? " I inquire softly, and she remains mute and speechless,
her feathers trembling with her body. Sickened by her weakness, I straighten up and dig my
hooves into the ground before walking away a little, and she calls after me,
" You're quite frightening, you know. Downright skeletal and ghastly, I'd say. Why can't
you leave? Go now, so you don't scare the fawns. " with a little rear accompanying her
words, she snorts, growing braver the farther away I am. Fawns surround her, but one
begins to approach me, calling an encouragement back to the doe as he comes nearer to me.
The second we touch noses to sniff, she bellows, maternal instinct kicking in, and she rushes at
me, knocking the fawn aside and flailing her hooves in my face.
She never connected, but bellows once all four feet are on the
ground. I become irate ; who was she to say those things to me, hmm? She was the one
that needed to go away, to be punished, not I. Not I.
Though, I did need to listen to my deeper instincts. My gender determined an unspoken rule ;
I was not to harm a doe. That was low, to harm something we were designed to protect.
However, she went by no such conduct, and as I turned, she smote me upon my neck with her
hoof, and I pay her no heed, although it stings terribly, and continue in a slow, dignified manner
away, walking along the high edge of the pond before settling down under a tree, curled
away from her, and tended to my wounded ego and neck.
I slept the sleep of the injured.
It was not serious, but the sort of misery that just bottles up and then one instance makes
the container explode was affecting me. It washed over me, and her words hurt. How
could she say those things?
How could she be so cruel?
When I woke, the sadness was still with me, and I rose to my feet, my neck encrusted with
blood, and began to move, though it was still not as fluid as it had been when I was flying.
So I merely trotted and walked in odd intervals, the rain still pouring down. I sought the
company of other deer, which meant shelter and protection, and came upon the old oak, where
the doe was once again. She shrank away, her eyes bigger than normal, ears flatter than they
had been, and her belly nearly touched the ground as she hissed, much like a cornered cat might.
I ignored her, but she would have none of it. She turned the
present deer upon me, and I rushed at her, ignoring the antler jabs of the rest, and
she fled as I chased her. We flew together, nearly neck and neck until I shouldered her
to the ground, her falling and twisting as she tried to regain her footing, but I was faster, so much faster.
" Why? I deserve as much as thee does, doe. Why must you accuse me so? " I inquire,
and trap her escape, my superior size and antlers domineering over her.
[i]" I... I was afraid you'd hurt the fawns. You don't look the nicest, you know. In the
mist, I thought you were a ghost or something. But please. Go. Let me go, I... I... " she
trailed off, and I sighed, backing away. She fled immediately, jumping into the brush
without so much as a look back.
I sighed, deep and heavy, and collapsed where I was, laying down upon my legs. Other
events had transpired besides just the doe, and I was tired. Multiple open wounds dotted
my pelt, and I just needed the blissful ignorance, the deep black of sleep to remove
everything and replace it with... Nothingness.
Beautiful! I love your
I can't wait for more.
~Meet Silvamord~
omg. this is nice. 8'D
Wow, gorgeous writing, I
Do you plan on continuing those, or do you have some plot in mind? I would love to read more from Vertigo!
Baww, I didn't expect so
Glad you guys do !
Ahaha, my writing style is far from satisfactory. I don't like it ; I can seriously spend several para-
graphs describing how his hooves hit the ground. xD
But oh well.
Glad you liked it.
I change the font color and provide images to give the eye more interest. Also thinking of breaking
up the paragraphs more, so it gives the eye a bit more substance to look at, instead of just a
chunk of text.
I plan on continuing these on daily events that happen to him. He's wildly conflicted, as Crimson-
gale saw, because he really is a nice guy, but something bad happened, and his appearance really
isn't what he's like at all.
Some days I'll skip entries, since I generally don't get too much time on the computer, being
enrolled in all AP classes in a charter school, but on the weekends, you can expect two, and during
the week, 2-3. (:
Ffftt, not like anyone's waiting on the edge of their seats for 'em or anything. xD
You know, your writing style
And I think the images were a good idea- it gave us an idea as to just how the weather was. Not to mention pictures do make you more interested |D
I, personally, am sitting on the edge of my seat for more. I might even start writing my own entries, you've got me so into it. Well done
~Meet Silvamord~