The Wise Whitetail of Northwest Indiana

Alrighty... this is going to be my last flash fiction story for my intro to fiction class. :( It's a little sad I know but now we are moving on to our longer "short stories." (The difference between short stories and flash fiction stories are a blog post for another day.) I will be posting my rough draft "The Wise Whitetail of Northwest Indiana." This story was modeled after Lon Ottos's story entitled "The Old Truth in Costa Rica." It is about a family of sloths that keep getting eaten by the jaguar when they go down to the rain forest floor to bury their poo. It is an interesting story but the whole point or general theme is that some traditions are not meant to be changed. The focus for this assignment was to have a strong underlining theme to a story that teaches a bigger lesson in a creative, kind of, silly way. I really think (after I have completed a final draft) that this story will be a good one! Enjoy!

The Wise Whitetail of Northwest Indiana

Rustling leaves off in the distance caught the man’s attention. He reached for his weapon of choice. Hanging from a cut branch, high in the tree, the bearded face grasped his bow. He rose from his seat as slowly and steadily as he could with his bum knee and lack of coordination. There it was again, the sound he’d heard before. It was closer now, a steady stream of steps coming his way. Then she appeared at last, walking out right in front of him, a lovely doe. Her broad white chest stuck out when she sniffed the air. I know what he is thinking. What a delicious slab of meat for my table. He’s going to shoot her and feed her to his own. I cannot bear to watch this any longer. Is there nothing I can do? I ducked my heavy head back under the thick brush I concealed myself in and took a somber walk across the gravel road and into the sanctuary. 

I gathered my heard, minus one, under the abandoned lean to out of the wind so I could report what I saw. “Listen closely everyone. I’ve got some news… Jade is no longer with us. She was killed today by the bearded man.” A deadly hush fell over the group because they knew she would not be last to go this season. I continued on, “Now I know it is that time of year when our population takes a hit but why is it that we need cross that devilish gravel road anyway? Do we not have everything we need here in the sanctuary?” 

“I agree Sir Split. We are safe here,” said York Young Buck.

“Good I am glad you agree,” I replied. “I’m sure York is not the only one so shall take a vote? All who agree that we should stop crossing the road gather over there near the fallen Oak. All who are opposed…” 

“Not so fast Split!” My father had risen from his bed and was limping towards the rest of us. His wise old age had gotten the better of him but his very presence can make a strong coyote stop in its tracks. “Why have you rushed into this so quickly have you gained no wisdom?”

“Forgive me Father,” my voice was shaking now, “I cannot stand to see another one of us killed and man cannot kill us if we never leave here.”

“You are wrong my dear boy. We have been crossing that road from the beginning of my grandfather’s era. The truth is this. We all have a destined time and place to die. If we do not cross the road we will continue to multiply.” I could not see why my father was so against this idea. Did he not want to see the heard reproduce and prosper?

My wise old father was killed that fall and mounted proudly on the bearded man’s wall. I was angry and unwise when I made the choice to never cross the road again. My heard and I multiplied that was for sure. My son who was my very pride and joy was one of the first to suffer. Then the greatest of all dangers stuck us as if we were all just dominoes in a line. Chronic Wasting Disease is what it was called. Our bodies withered away to practically nothing, we ran out of food and sucked the stream dry. If only I had listened to my father. 


The main theme of my story is that you should trust and listen to your elders. Sometimes a new way of doing something is not always the best way and there will be consequences. This idea also goes with maintaining traditions and just because it’s a new way does not mean it is best.