The Deer in the Hedge

I was 18 when I found the photograph.<br><br>I remember the day vividly. In the spring after high school my friends and I spent a lot of time hanging out in the park. We had come straight from a morning of exam prep, when for some reason, all of a sudden, not a single one of us was in the mood for a day of classes. Anticipation of graduation had set in already. We could feel the inevitability of our leaving.<br><br>We decided to skip school and spend the day doing absolutely nothing in particular, just relaxing together, sharing a bottle of booze that John had nicked from his parents house, before they happened to spot us out of the living room window and started shouting at us to get back in class, predicting that we all wouldn’t end up going to college if we didn’t buck our ideas up. <br><br>I think they were probably right with regards to my friends, but I remember grinning secretly at the thought of university. Feeling relieved that I was soon going to be able to escape my miserable childhood, my parents, and my claustrophobic little town. Get my ticket to the wide open beyond. Live a little. Party. Have fun. Do things I wasn’t supposed to. Make mistakes. I had friends waiting for me on the other side of the country, and a life to start fresh. I remember feeling so happy just thinking about it, like someone had tied a ribbon around my insides and was pulling it tight in an effort to stop my excitement escaping. <br><br>I have no friends waiting for me anymore, and after the things I have seen, I can barely stand the sight of myself in a mirror. <br><br>As we walked through the park the sun was shining bright and hot. We decided to settle down on one of the benches and after a while one of my friends suggested we play a game called “find something cool”. We were all lying on the grass, drinking and staring up at the clouds, when someone had the idea of getting up and searching for a bit of “treasure” to bring back to the group to prove we had been on the “hunt”. As far as I can remember the rules were simple, find something interesting, anything of any worth, and bring it back, then we would all look at it and agree whether it was cool or not. Whoever found the coolest thing would get a prize, which was a glass pendant that one of the group had found in the previous round. It was very pretty and had a butterfly trapped inside. <br><br>But it was the third round that changed everything for me. My friends were soon bored of the game, or had forgotten about it altogether, but I decided to go for another walk on my own, partly fueled by the alcohol, partly fueled by my own need to be alone. <br><br>I remember meandering through the park, feeling quite drunk, stumbling from tree to tree, grasping at branches and using them to help hold me up. Each time I went a little bit further out from our group, which gave the whole experience a surreal quality, as if I was exploring a new place for the first time.<br><br>As I wandered further and further out, I ended up walking along a small footpath, that I had never noticed before. I had lived in our town my entire life, and for some reason had no recollection of ever seeing this path, or the beautiful trees that seemed to line it, towering above me, blocking out the light from the sky, making me feel like a small child. <br><br>The path was well maintained, with weeds and grass and leaves raked off to the side. It was sandy brown and looked well worn, as if many people walked along it on a daily basis. Yet I had no recollection of this path at all. It was as if I had stumbled upon something that had been hiding in plain sight. <br><br>I felt a sense of wonder, as if I had been pulled through into a different world. I had always felt like something in my town was missing, but I couldn’t quite put my finger on what it was. The discovery of the path seemed to fill a void that had long been empty. <br><br>I decided to follow it, see where it would lead, and as I walked I had the feeling that I was being watched, but not in a hostile way. I looked around, and sure enough, I could swear that I saw a figure darting between the trees, a figure with a brown jacket on. I peered into the woods, but couldn’t see anything. Shrugging it off, I decided to continue down the path.<br><br>As I rounded a corner, I spotted something glinting on the floor, caught in a beam of light that had managed to pass through the canopy of branches above. I bent down to pick it up. It was an old Polaroid photograph, crumpled and twisted, with the edges torn away. I flattened it in my hands, and as I peered into the picture, I felt an overwhelming sense of recognition.<br><br>It was a picture of five teenagers standing in front of a forest. They were all boys, dressed in flannel shirts and jeans, hair messy, with identical bemused smirks on their faces. In the background, the trees in the forest were a deep shade of green, and seemed to stretch endlessly into the distance. There was a clear path leading into the forest, that seemed to disappear. <br><br>I recognised the path, it was the same as the one I was on. I recognised the trees as well, for all intents and purposes, this could have been a photograph of the exact section of the forest that I was currently standing in. I felt a shiver run down my spine. <br><br>On the reverse of the photograph, there was some writing, which I read aloud to myself. It was simply a list of names, and a date. <br><br>*Gerry, Mike, Chris, Nick, Ben* <br>*12th December 2001*<br><br>I looked back at the photograph, and I couldn’t help but feel drawn to the boys in the picture. I closed my eyes and as I opened them again, I spotted the figure in the brown jacket darting between the trees. I called out. <br><br>‘Hello! Is that you?’<br><br>The figure stopped. It turned around. I could see the face now. It was one of the boys from the photograph. I felt a strange sensation, as if I had pulled him out of the photo into real life, and even though he looked exactly as he did in the picture, the surroundings seemed to enhance his features and highlight exactly how unreal he looked. <br><br>But it was the eyes that really did it for me. They seemed to stare straight into my soul, and made my blood run cold. I felt a chill run down my spine as he began to walk towards me, slowly, deliberately, his eyes fixed on mine. <br><br>I tried to run, but my legs wouldn’t move. I tried to call for help, but the words wouldn’t come. I tried to raise my hands in defence, but they felt like lead weights and felt as if they were stuck to my sides. <br><br>I froze in terror, attracting the attention of my friends, who were now rushing up the path towards me, calling out my name. They skidded to a stop and stared at me in amazement. <br><br>‘What’s going on? Are you okay?’ One of them asked, with a mixture of confusion and fear in their voice. <br><br>I tried to answer, but still couldn’t. My friends looked at me, and then beyond me, to where the boy in brown was standing. They didn’t seem to see him. <br><br>‘You look like you’ve seen a ghost.’ One of them said. <br><br>I coughed, but it was a dry, weak, pathetic cough. <br><br>One of my friends reached out and touched my arm, and I flinched. They jumped back in fright. <br><br>‘Look, let’s get out of here, okay?’ They said. <br><br>I tried to argue. I tried to say that I needed to stay in the park, that I wanted to stay, that I had to talk to the boy in the photograph, but again I was unable to speak, unable to move, unable to do anything except freeze and stare at the boy as my friends dragged me away, shaking their heads and laughing nervously. <br><br>But I couldn’t take my eyes off the boy. <br><br>When I was back at home, I couldn’t shake the picture from my head. The photograph was still clutched in my hand, and I stared into it, transfixed, for hours. My friends had gone home, not too bothered about the whole episode, and I was alone in my bedroom, with only my thoughts to keep me company. <br><br>I couldn’t stop thinking about the boys in the picture. I was convinced that they were trying to tell me something, but couldn’t quite put my finger on what. I couldn’t stop thinking about the boy in the brown jacket in the woods. I was convinced that he was trying to contact me. I couldn’t stop thinking about the forest, and the path that I had never seen before. <br><br>And I couldn’t erase the image of the figure darting behind the trees out of my mind. The feeling of being watched had stayed with me even once I was back home. I couldn’t shake the idea that the boy in the brown jacket was hiding just behind me, watching me, waiting for me. <br><br>I would call out every so often, but there was never any answer, and I would try to go to sleep, but the thought of him being outside my window, watching me, made me feel sick to my stomach. <br><br>Eventually it got too much. I crept out of bed, pulling my trousers on over my boxers and stuffing my feet into my boots. I crept down the stairs and out the front door. I had to go back to the park, I