Chapter Text
People around town told Ponyboy that if you saw any funny-looking deer, you might as well pray to God for he’ll see you soon.
But the thing he was staring at right in the eyes looked nothing like how his folks described it. Underneath the summer sky, its skin was a warm brown, with white patches on its head, and a long and slim body. It looked just like anyone would imagine a deer would look like. The only thing ‘funny looking' about it was that it had claws instead of hooves. Pony didn't mind it; he thought it made it look tuff.
The deer creature bared its fanged teeth at him as he approached it, though its defensiveness was quickly replaced by interest when it saw the berries being offered in the greaser’s hand. Gladly, it munched on the fruit and licked Pony's hand clean.
As the young teen patted the creature's head and it nuzzled back, the realization dawned on him. The deer clearly weren't the problem. He felt it was something else, something from beyond the grave.
TWO WEEKS EARLIER…
When Ponyboy stepped out into the bright fluorescence of the street lamps from the darkness of the movie house, he had two things on his mind: Paul Newman and a ride home. He yawned, batted his eyes, and stared at the sidewalk, willing for a car to pull up and one of his gang members to stick their head out and holler at him to get in.
Of course, nothing happened, though it would’ve been very convenient for him. It was already past ten, and as Pony began heading home, he could feel his legs becoming like lead, his eyes closing and shutting rapidly, fighting to stay awake. Standing underneath a streetlight, he took one last sip of his cup of now-watered-down Pepsi before tossing it into a nearby trashcan.
The light he was standing under was the brightest thing there, and even then, it wasn’t exactly that luminous. Surrounding stores were locked for the night, the insides dim, and signs flipped to read ‘Sorry we’re closed.’ The whole street was nearly empty, save for a local bar down the road still bustling with people who believed that the night was still young. To top it all off, a thin sheet of cloudy mist covered the air, dimming any bits of light and visibility.
A breeze blew by, hitting Ponyboy’s back, causing a shiver to run down his spine and goosebumps to dot his arms. He zipped up his hoodie and shoved his hands in the pockets of his jeans, continuing to walk. The wind blew again, sliding fallen leaves against the pavement, creating a scratching sound, before it lifted the dead things and blew them somewhere else.
The boy aimed to return to the comforts of his family and home before anyone could jump him. He certainly did not want to get attacked now, when it was dark, late, and he was all alone. Unfortunately, he knew better. He knew those factors made him the perfect target.
He turned the corner and made a fast detour, slipping inside the local 24-hour drug store without a sound. A muffled piano melody echoed throughout the shop as he roamed the aisles for cigarettes. He picked up a box of Camels, paid for them, and exited the place as quickly as he did when he entered. The fact that he was also the only one there in that store, besides the cashier man, didn’t comfort him. Pony recalled that the employee didn’t look that thrilled to be there either.
He resumed his route home, lighting a cigarette as he did so. He stepped into his neighborhood and the feeling of being on edge dissipated. But as he passed by the trail path and heard a rustle of leaves in twigs, his body tensed once more.
Ponyboy turned around. No one was there. He exhaled.
The young greaser found himself striding, constantly whipping his head back to check if anyone was there. Despite his vision telling him that nothing was following him, he couldn't scratch the thought that someone or something was there.
With each step he took, the feeling became more immense and unbearable. He didn’t dare turn around now. He swore he could feel the warm breath of someone down his neck, and their touch grazing against his back. He came to a stop, preparing to feel the slam of a body against his.
But there was nothing.
With a bated breath, he turned on his heel and squinted into the foggy, dim-lit dark. His hand snaked to his back pocket, and he pulled out his lighter. When lighted, he saw the face of a deer.
As he and the animal locked eyes, all of his anxiety melted away into nothing. It was just some timid animal that must’ve gotten lost, he thought.
Ponyboy reached to pet his head, but the poor thing backed away. He quirked a brow before his eyes widened as he saw the animal take its true form. Its eyes shifted so that they were front-facing, its mouth curled into a snarl, and it bared its fangs, the sharp teeth leaking with saliva and stained with maroon. The hooves morphed into claws and its legs elongated, becoming slimmer and slimmer until it was nothing but a long limb of skin and bone.
The “deer” now towered before him, growling and breathing hot air onto the top of Pony’s head. Its calm eyes were now bloodshot as they bore into the greaser’s soul.
He had no idea what this thing was, but he knew better than to stay still in front of a strong match. He whirled around and took off running.
The thing chased after him, its claws pounding against the pavement as it growled even more. Ponyboy knew he was a good runner, but even now, he wasn’t sure if he was fast enough to outrun this monstrosity.
He could feel his heart pumping in his ears, his breath racing, and his face becoming more flush. Sweat formed and dripped from his face as he continued to run for his life.
He whipped his head around again and saw that the creature was catching up. The action was a mistake; he tripped on the road and fell onto the hard ground. His knee came in contact with the pavement and he winced, feeling it grate into his skin. The tumble caused him to roll onto his back, and he groaned, his hand instinctively sneaking down to his injured kneecap. The deer-thing looked down at him once it caught up, and it opened its mouth, preparing to indulge in its newly caught prey.
This is it, Pony thought timidly as he closed his eyes shut, whimpering. He braced himself, waiting for the sharp teeth to sink into his soft flesh. But instead, he heard a loud thud followed by a high-pitched wail. He opened his eyes to see the deer-thing stumbling backward and reverting to its original form, before retreating into the dark.
“Ponyboy!” He heard a familiar voice yell out a few feet away. He looked up and saw Sodapop looking down at him, his eyebrows scrunched together in a worried look. Darry stood beside him, a thick branch in his hand.
“Hey, Soda… Darry…” he managed to sputter as the adrenaline faded. He groaned and rubbed his head. “What… what was that thing?”
The two helped him up, and Pony propped himself against them, waiting for them to answer.
“Glory, kid, you’re lucky we decided to go out and look for ya,” was all he got from Darry.
“Yeah, or that coyote would’ve had ya for sure,” Soda added.
Ponyboy blinked and gave them a funny look. “That ain’t a coyote, it was a deer and it could change shape and it looked terrifyin’, like something straight outta a darn horror movie…”
He saw the two older boys exchange looks. Darry sighed.
“Your imagination was prolly runnin’ wild, Pone,” he muttered after a slight pause, his gaze focused on the road. His jaw was clenched and his eyebrows were furrowed, Ponyboy noticed. On the other hand, Sodapop stayed quiet, glancing off to the side instead.
The youngest Curtis sighed and his breath came out in a warm huff. His head ached, and he could feel a sharp sting on his knee, as well as a trickle of blood. The street lamps, still dim with the fog, seemed brighter than before, managing to hurt his eyes as if he were staring right at the sun. He groaned and stumbled a bit before Darry caught him.
“You alright, Ponyboy?”
“..Yeah,” he mumbled quietly. He wasn’t the slightest bit.
As they walked home in silence, Ponyboy forced himself to believe what Darry had said. That he was thinkin’ too much.
They knew each other too well to think otherwise. They all knew he was lying to Ponyboy and himself. And they all tried to believe it.
…
Ponyboy had just gotten bandaged up, and currently, he was resting on his and Soda’s shared bed. He bent and unbent his knee in an attempt to reduce the pain and keep the blood flowing as he scowled at the white gauze, now stained with a few tinges of crimson. Darry had him go to the bathroom the moment they stepped inside, and he ensured that the wound was cleaned and disinfected to perfection. Sodapop had dug through the freezer and given him a bag of frozen peas, which he used to ice his elbow he didn’t find out he was injured until he stepped out of the shower.
His white t-shirt, purple hoodie, and jeans were in a pile on the floor, smeared with dirt and his sweat. His jeans had a gaping hole on the left pant leg and had crusted blood on the edges. The rest however were still available for use, even though they smelled exactly like him after a track meet, and they needed a good toss in the washer.
His hair now smelled of cedar and citrus instead of sweat and the outside, which he didn’t mind. But it could use some grease, he thought. Darry’s stern voice chastised him in his head, ‘Ponyboy Curtis, quit it with the hair grease, you’re goin’ to bed in a bit.’ The young greaser grumbled at the thought.
He was clad in his PJs and had the covers draped over him. Despite that he was already perfectly tucked in and comfy, his body refused to get ready for sleep. His mind kept on drifting to the thing he encountered on his walk home. He was glad that the thing following him wasn’t a Soc, since it was his first assumption, but now, he was more concerned for what it exactly was. It surely wasn’t an animal, and it certainly wasn’t something from here. Tulsa, Oklahoma. The US. Earth. It was something from a horror writer’s imagination or the depths of Hell itself.
Pony could still see it boring down into him every time he blinked. That thing, its eyes, and its terrifying body would haunt his dreams for who knows how long. He felt an adrenaline rush and impending doom each time he thought about it.
He glanced to the side and looked at the bedside clock, which read 11:03. By now, most people would be asleep, he thought. But the sound of footsteps, slight chatter, and ceramics hitting other ceramics, told him that some were still out and about.
Carefully, the youngest Curtis stepped out of bed and limped down the hall, entering the kitchen. Darry was walking back and forth from the sink to the cabinets, plates, bowls, and other dinnerware in his hands. Soda was in the living room, lounging on the couch as he flipped through the channels on the TV.
“C’mon, Pony,” Darry said, glancing at him as he passed by the kitchen. “It’s late. You should hit the sack.”
“Don’t wanna,” he replied, not looking at his oldest brother. “Can’t. That thing scared the heebie-jeebies outta me.” The last part he felt he didn’t want to mention, but despite it, he did anyway.
Sodapop let out a yawn from the couch. “Scared of a coyote, Pone?” He asked groggily.
“Kinda-” he began but stopped himself. “How many times do I gotta say this? It wasn’t some coyote, it was this creature, monster-lookin’ thing that looked like an innocent deer but could shapeshift. And it looked like it wanted to eat me.”
Pony could sense Darry behind him, pausing with his chore to let his jaw clench. Soda, obscured by the couch, said nothing in response and stopped pressing the remote. After a minute of uncomfortable silence, the TV flickered off.
“Ponyboy, how many times do we gotta say it?” Darry asked as he took a damp rag and wiped the dinner table. “It wasn’t a monster, you were too tired and stressed to see anythin’ clearly, and your mind was makin’ stuff up. Plus, it was real dark out.”
“Yeah, lil’ buddy, which is why you should get some rest,” Soda added and looked up from the sofa. “Or who knows? Maybe you might see me with two heads.”
The youngest Curtis gave him a small smile at the joke. No matter the situation, he still managed to make himself and anyone crack a grin. He wobbled over to the other couch and collapsed on it, leaning on the armrest and extending his legs onto the cushions. As he leaned his head back, it hit something and he winced. He turned around to see what it was.
“Ugh… hey, it’s the old photo album. Why’s it here?”
Sodapop shrugged. “Darry was cleanin’ earlier. Set that down over there for later so that he could find a better spot for it.”
Ponyboy began flipping through the pages with a renewed interest, forgetting about the creature and the pain it caused him for a split second. The photos brought him bittersweet memories as he saw pictures of him, Soda, and Darry in various places and with various people. The more pages he flipped, the more it brought him back in time. Eventually, the photos showcased only their parents, lively and happy, thrilled and excited. And then he came across an odd photo that stood out from the rest.
It was a torn photograph, tucked all away in the back of the book in a small pocket. In the faded shades of black and white, was his father, when he was presumably Pony’s age. He grinned into the camera, showcasing his uneven teeth. His hair was so messy it looked like a mop of black on his head. Behind him was a porch leading to a house. Pressed against his father’s left side, Pony could make out an arm and a shoulder. The rest of the unknown person was ripped apart from the picture.
He flipped the photo, hoping to find who that person was. There was what he guessed to be his grandma’s handwriting, neat and schoolteacher-like: “Tulsa, Spring Break, 1939. Darrel and V-.”
But just like the face, the rest of the person’s name was missing.
For a few minutes, he stared at the picture. V… he only knew a few V names. Victoria, Victor, Vivian, and Valentino, to name a few. To make it worse, he didn’t know if this V was a boy or a girl, but judging by the fact that it was his dad in the photo, the unknown person was most likely a guy.
Just then, he heard footsteps walking down the hall and the lights turning off. “Ponyboy put the book down and go to bed,” he heard Darry order.
He looked at the photo again before setting the album down. “Okay,” he murmured and obediently wobbled to his and Soda’s room.
Once under the covers, he felt the mattress dip and another body join him - Soda. Ponyboy closed his eyes and willed himself to go to sleep, only to hear a whisper from behind him.
“Pone?”
He shifted himself so that he was facing his older brother. “Yeah?”
“Shh, wait…” Soda responded and glanced at the door. Once he heard a light switch flick and a door creak open and close, he resumed.
“Whaddya say you saw again?” he whisper-asked.
Pony sighed. What was Soda gonna do now?
“A monster.”
“No, like, what did it look like, again?”
His eyes glazed over. “A deer before it turned into some messed up version of one.”
The older boy sighed and lay on his back, staring at the ceiling. “Knew it.”
Ponyboy quirked a brow. “Knew it? Whaddya mean, ‘knew it?’”
His older brother pinched the bridge of his nose before turning to him and speaking even softer.
“You’re right Pony. About them being monsters.”
Damn right, he was, he thought. But he didn’t say it. Instead, he nodded slightly and waited for his brother to continue.
“And Darry and I… we don’t want ya havin’ to worry about these guys too… which is why we lied. But we all hafta learn about it somehow,” he continued. “From what Dad’s told me and Dar, they’ve been around here for who knows how long. They’re violent too. All predatory and hungry for meat. We stay away from them. We don’t interfere, and we don’t tempt them. We don’t talk about them either, less we have to.
“Just know, that if you see any funny-lookin’ deer again, pray to god. And pray hard and good. Cuz he’s seein’ you soon.”
With that, he turned around and fell asleep, leaving Ponyboy with even more questions than answers.