A Bad Memory (long-form test)
faceless-content-longform v1
Direct
Approvedv1 · haikuThe Trench
A teenage boy, left alone in an Ontario creek bed to watch a dying deer, encounters something wearing human skin that should not exist.
I've never told this story before. Partly because it sounds ridiculous. Partly because even now, years later, it still feels like a memory, not a story.
Illustration prompt(click to expand)
Misty autumn forest at dusk, teenage boy walking alone through bare skeletal trees, cartoonishly sorrowful expression, muted browns and grays with cold purple shadows stretching across the path.
I was fifteen when it happened. Every summer my dad sent me to spend weeks with my cousin Jensen in Northern Ontario. He was like a brother to me. Those hunting trips meant everything. It was late November, the woods were gray and brown, and we were tracking a buck.
Illustration prompt(click to expand)
Two hunters with rifles moving through a skeletal late-autumn forest, older cousin confident and leading, younger narrator small and following close, deep shadows between bare branches like dark fingers reaching down.
We found the deer in a shallow trench carved into the forest floor. It was barely alive, barely breathing. Jensen had gone back for the sled. 'Stay here,' he'd said. 'If anybody comes through here, hide.' So I stayed. And I was alone. Watching that animal die.
Illustration prompt(click to expand)
Teenage boy perched on gnarled branch overlooking creek bed, knees drawn up, watching struggling injured deer below with dread, white-knuckled grip on branch, background is deep oppressive shadow in the trench.
Then I heard something. At first I couldn't place it. But after a minute, I realized what I was hearing. Voices. Two voices. They sounded far away. Not shouting. Not really talking. Bickering. Like an old couple having the same argument they'd had a thousand times.
Illustration prompt(click to expand)
Close-up of boy's face peering through tree branches, eyes widening as he listens, sound-wave lines suggesting invisible voices approaching from beyond frame, autumn leaves blurred in foreground, ominous dark green and brown palette.
I froze. My first thought was landowners. Maybe other hunters. Panic took over and I climbed a nearby tree. Not high enough to feel safe. Just high enough that maybe nobody would see me. And that's when I noticed something that still bothers me. I could hear two voices. But I could only hear one set of footsteps. Crunch. Crunch. Crunch.
Illustration prompt(click to expand)
Extreme close-up of boy's face in tree shadows, eyes grotesquely wide with realization, tree branches forming prison bars across cheeks, faint footprints in earth below, dread building in palette of blacks and sickly greens.
Then I saw movement through the trees. At first, pale skin. Almost gray. The figure stepped into view. It looked like a woman, but something was deeply wrong. Her head was shaved with scabs across her scalp. One shoulder sat noticeably lower than the other. She had a strange, permanent limp. But she moved with purpose. And two voices came from one mouth.
Illustration prompt(click to expand)
Tall, emaciated pale figure stepping between dark tree trunks, one shoulder dramatically lower, bald scarred head tilted unnaturally, one leg bent at wrong angle, movement lines suggesting inhuman gait, deep blues and sickly grays, skeleton-thin with no visible face.
She walked directly toward the deer as if she'd known exactly where it was. The deeper voice spoke. 'What is this doing here?' The other replied. 'An oasis.' She dropped to her knees beside the buck. The voices repeated things over and over. And then she lowered her head toward it.
Illustration prompt(click to expand)
Pale figure on one knee beside struggling deer, two different-styled speech bubbles emerging from open mouth, boy in distant tree with hands clamped over mouth, red and black danger light creeping into palette, tension lines everywhere.
Comment 'more' for what happened to that deer, why Jensen made me leave, and the ancient name I still won't repeat. Full story on YouTube, link in bio.
Illustration prompt(click to expand)
Extreme close-up of teenage boy's face filling frame, eyes bulging in horror, hands clamped over mouth, skin drained of color, dark shadow looming beyond shoulder, black creeping in from edges.