Long ago, in a distant land called Dryer, there lived a king named Dio, who had no desire to assist his fellow humans, let alone animals. He only thirsted for power and domination.

The subjects suffered under his rule; they were plagued by expensive taxes and inhospitable conditions. However, nobody raised concerns; those who stood in his way or denounced the royalty faced extreme punishment.

Though cruel, Dio was also insecure about his position and eager to prove his worth in the best ways he knew how: intimidation and talent in chosen hobbies.

Besides torturing the citizens, King Dio enjoyed hunting. The thrill of tracking down brainless beings excited him. Witnessing their last, fear-filled moments and seeing their corpses adorned gave him a euphoric energy.

Skeletons of wild game like boar, foxes, and wolves mingled alongside the furniture, while the taxidermic heads adorned the walls.

However, if there was any beast he desired yet hadn’t caught, it was a rare Dry Deer.

It was something that could give life or death and was only seen once a year.

It was only seen once a year, and very few knew when or where it showed up. So, a party of huntsmen was sent to locate the animal each day.

That morning, mist circled around Dryer Forest; on his throne, the king watched the weather, bored.

An aide burst in, white as a sheet.

“What is this intrusion?” King Dio exclaimed. “Speak before I hang you!”

The aide gulped. “Your Highness, the Dry Deer has appeared!”

His Majesty clasped his hands in delight. “At last, I will have my prize trophy!” “Don’t just stand there, let the attendants know!”

Attendants gathered weapons, saddled horses, and helped dress the king in hunting gear.

Afterwards, Dio rode his horse toward where it had been discovered.

By now, a heavy fog coated the woods from top to bottom. Even a hawk’s eyes could pierce through only several feet. Nevertheless, he surged forward. Reckless abandon, nothing else. 

To behold a rare animal is one thing, but to capture it and claim it as his was what would set him apart. When he returned with the prize, he imagined his subjects begging for the honor of meeting him, even if only to face his wrath.

As the mist thinned, he perceived a tall figure trotting ahead of him. Dio spurred his horse forward, but it was reluctant to obey. 

Angered, Dio smacked the stallion with a riding crop.

“You idiot! It’s getting away!”

Despite the pain, it remained in place, so Dio jumped off, cursed, and continued stalking on foot. The horse ran towards the safety of the stables.

Several hours passed, but no sign of the creature. Dio growled in frustration, then, behind a tree, he noticed what looked like the legendary Dry Deer.

Trying to stay silent, he took out his bow and arrow, then aimed for the deer’s neck, licking his lips in anticipation.

The Dry Deer turned its head around to face Dio. The latter froze on the spot.

Unlike those prey that showed fright or defeat, the eyes of this one glared at him in defiance. There was even a sign of contempt.

Rage rose within the man, who gritted his teeth.

“You mock me? The lord of all this fine land?”

The deer still stared.

“How DARE you!? I am the hunter, and yet your kind has the gall to sneer at me!”

Undeterred, the staring continued. A smirk formed on the animal’s mouth.

At last, he could take it no more. He fired the arrow, but it missed.

Dio stood open mouthed while the deer moved away.

The man’s frustration boiled over, and he screamed. “I will not be beaten!”

He fired another arrow. It plunged into the stag’s neck.

The beast fell to the ground.

Dio’s face formed a malicious grin that belonged to those who delight in the torment of innocents. He laughed and kicked the corpse with his boot.

“I am the monarch here!”

.                                                                                   .                                                           .

Dio returned to his castle on foot, triumphant but exhausted after dragging the deer’s body after him. He rested that night. 

As he slept, a enormous form with antlers and glaring eyes appeared before him. No matter where Dio looked, the figure met his gaze. Each time, it whispered the same phrase.

You are no ruler.

As far as I can see.

Death comes for you.

Life will come to me!

At last, Dio woke up drenched in sweat.

“Confound it!” he roared, wiping his brow. It occurred to him that something had developed over his left cheek.

Dio leaped from the bed, looked into a mirror, then reeled in horror. Several antlers sprouted on his face and were still growing!

Desperate, the king rushed for his sword to cut them off, but each time they grew back quicker.

“This can’t be!”

He hunched over in pain and fell into darkness.

.                                                                       .                                                                       .

The page knocked on the bedroom door.

“Your Highness, you’ll be happy to know the stableboy has found your missing steed. It is none the worse for its adventure.”

No answer.

Another knock and the same response.

Fear crept inside the young man, and he asked a guard to check.  The entry opened, and a large, majestic deer ran out. It trotted down the stairs, and out the entranceway back into nature.

The wonder of seeing it was replaced with repulsion when they entered the chamber.

King Dio, once a proud and intimidating ruler, was now a cadaver. His limbs were stretched out all over the walls and ceilings. They were so thin that a small poke would break them. His mouth remained agape as if looking straight into Hell. All over his body, antlers grew.

***

To this day, the kingdom retells the story of the Deer’s Glare as a warning to others not to overestimate themselves, or to take joy in hurting innocents, and most of all, to respect woodland animals, especially the deer.

Editor: Lucy Cafiero