It had been one and a half years since they were married. Their relationship had grown steady with time—quiet, balanced, and held together not by grand gestures but by the way they silently understood each other. Today, they were on a long journey to a remote village in the countryside of West Yorkshire, England, heading toward a house that once belonged to his late parents. The house stood alone near the edge of the forest, left untouched for years.

The sky was overcast, heavy clouds drifting low, casting a muted gray light over the landscape. As they left the city behind, the roads narrowed from asphalt to gravel, and trees began to grow denser on either side. The car’s tires crunched softly over the unpaved path, a sound that felt oddly loud against the stillness of the woods.

Branches arched above the road like old fingers, the leaves barely moving in the windless air. They passed over a stone bridge—moss-covered, ancient, stretching across a small, slow-moving river. The water below glinted dully, reflecting the pale sky. Beyond the bridge, the road became even more secluded, surrounded now by forest that seemed to breathe with quiet watchfulness.

Then, on the right side of the road, a weathered wooden sign came into view. It leaned slightly to one side, barely holding its ground after years of neglect. The paint was faded, but the words could still be made out if one looked closely.

"CAUTION: WILDLIFE CROSSING AREA. DRIVE SLOWLY"

He glanced at it once, briefly, then returned his eyes to the road. He didn’t slow down. His grip on the steering wheel remained firm, and his expression unreadable. The forest deepened, and the car pushed forward. Moments later, it happened.

Out of nowhere, a large deer burst from the underbrush, leaping directly into the path of the car. THUMP!

A loud, sickening thud echoed through the woods. The impact was immediate and unavoidable. The car jolted as he slammed on the brakes. The seatbelts caught sharply, pressing them both back against their seats. Silence.

She turned quickly toward him, her face a mix of shock and concern, her breath caught in her chest. He stared ahead, unmoving, for a few seconds, then finally spoke in a low, steady voice.

"I'm going to check. Stay here, don’t worry"

He opened the car door and stepped out into the chilly air. The scent of damp earth and forest filled his lungs. Slowly, he walked to the front of the car. The front bumper was dented—nothing too serious but it was enough to remind him of the weight of the collision.

Lying a few feet ahead on the gravel was the deer. Its body was motionless, legs bent awkwardly beneath it, eyes open but lifeless. Blood had begun to pool around its head, staining the earth dark red.

He stood over it for a moment, his face unreadable, neither grimacing nor reacting. There was no sign of remorse—only quiet calculation. He exhaled through his nose and turned back to the car, walking with calm, measured steps.

He got in, shut the door, and adjusted the rearview mirror. His voice was flat but certain: "The deer’s dead. The car’s still fine. We keep going"

And with that, he shifted gears, pressing his foot to the gas pedal. The car moved forward again, leaving behind the body of the deer, now claimed by the forest.

The sky above darkened just a little more, and the air grew heavier, as if the forest itself had been watching and was now silently letting them pass.

The house they were driving to waited just ahead, its doors long shut, its windows staring like hollow eyes. Whatever lay inside was no longer just memories. It was something else entirely.