They first appeared while I was tossing hay behind the barn—two deer, watching me far too calmly. The smaller one walked right up to the fence and dropped something at my feet: a bundle wrapped neatly in dark cloth. Inside was an old wooden box covered in strange symbols, holding a tarnished silver locket carved with the same markings.
When I looked up, the deer was staring at me as if it wanted me to follow. And I did.
It led me deep into the woods to a clearing I’d never seen before. An ancient, blackened oak stood in the center. Fresh dirt at its base hid a stone and a sealed note. The message was simple and unsettling: “For the one who is chosen. This is only the beginning.”
Research at the library revealed an old group called The Veil, guardians of a dangerous truth. Their “messengers” were said to be deer.
After that, strange things started happening—symbols appearing on my steps, shadows watching from the treeline, my phone glitching whenever I tried to view the deer photo. The forest felt alive. A dream of hooded figures beneath the oak left me shaking.
I returned to the clearing. When I pressed the locket to the carvings on the oak, the ground trembled and a voice echoed in my mind: “The Veil has thinned.” Inside the locket was now a new message: “They know you carry the key. Run.”
That’s when I saw the larger deer again—its eyes glowing, no longer animal.
I ran.
Now, something moves outside my window at night. The woods feel closer. And even though I buried the locket, I can still feel it calling.
Whatever The Veil is, it’s real.
And it hasn’t finished with me.