My plan was to quietly sneak inside and sleep on this fancy chaise lounge they had against one wall of the bedroom. I can remember my grandfather briefly stirring that night as the door squeaked open. Pops winked when he saw it was me curling up on the lounge chair and then he closed his eyes and resumed snoring again not long after.
The lounge was positioned directly in front of yet another one of those floor-to-ceiling picture windows, which were in most of the rooms on that side of the house. I can remember falling asleep with my back to the window, only to wake again a short while later to discover I had rolled over and was now facing it.
There was a thin white curtain covering the window and moonlight seemed to be projecting the silhouette of a deer onto the curtain from somewhere just outside… Just outside a window that was almost 12 feet off of the ground.
I was still young enough that this actually took me a few moments to fully process but when I did, I can remember feeling the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. I shot into a sitting position and began reaching for the curtain to pull it open but then stopped myself just as I felt my fingers grip the fabric.
I had this sudden, overwhelming sense that felt more like preternatural instinct than a genuine realization. All I knew was I didn’t want to open that curtain and look outside. I knew this floating deer silhouette was a trap designed to trick me into looking outside. And I knew that if I did that, I wouldn’t like what I saw.