The dark nights can hide some surprises.
The crisp air, fogged with moisture, clouds many mysteries. Things in the trees whisper secrets to each other and the hedgerows are alive with eyes, watching, always watching. Sometimes, something brakes this cover and that’s when the shit really goes down.
One such starless night I was pedalling my merry way up Winsley Hill when I rounded a corner and noticed a large dark lump on the road ahead. It was approximately the size of a small humanoid, but as I drew closer I knew this was no human I had ever seen.
Out of the strange silhouette I started to describe two large shiny black eyes, a large wet nose, and a tongue lolling from it’s open mouth. It was a deer. A dead deer. A dearly departed. I stopped next to it, and looked down on it’s corpse. I knew it was dead due to the way the top half was facing in a different direction to the bottom.
I decided to drag the deer out of the road so it would cease to be an obstacle to all the important people in their cars going on their speedy way home to have arguments and recriminations with their loved ones. The deer was heavy and still warm, but I grabbed a leg and dragged it off the road and onto the verge. It was tough going, and I was grateful for the breeze the cars racing past just inches from my head, brought to my sweaty brow from the exertion.
Once the venison was off the road, I got back to my bike and pottered off. Four seconds later something rushed past my shoulder only a hairs breadth from me, almost knocking me from my metal steed.
Now, I’m not completely sure, I may have been mistaken, but was it the spirit of the dead deer roaring past me on it’s way to antler heaven, or just some careless cakesucking fudwit in a 4×4?
I will never know.