Chapter 2 #2
The entrance to Rosewood Park appeared ahead.
It was a small oasis of shade trees in the desert landscape.
I veered inside, grateful for my neighborhood’s astronomical HOA fees and absurd rules.
They kept families away, which meant the park was usually empty during working hours.
No families. No children’s laughter. No happiness cluttering up the carefully designed paths.
The familiar thought made me feel uncomfortable. How many times had I been relieved at the absence of families? At the lack of children? Why did that suddenly feel like such a strange thing to appreciate?
I sank onto a bench beneath a sprawling mesquite tree, its shade offering minor relief from the heat. Closing my eyes, I tried to focus on my breathing, but each exhale felt like it carried frost. What was happening to me? First the date last night, then the meltdown at work.
The silence of the park pressed against my eardrums. There was no distant traffic noise, no birds chirping, and no leaves rustling despite the perpetual desert breeze. Just a thick silence that felt almost watchful.
I bent forward, elbows on my knees and face in my hands, trying to snap myself out of the spiral. This was ridiculous. I was tired. Stressed. Maybe having some kind of quarter-life crisis that manifested as temporary hallucinations and bizarre weather phenomena.
A deep breath steadied me enough to sit up straight again.
The solid bench beneath me was real. The warm air was real.
This weird thing happening with my body temperature was probably a hormone imbalance or something equally mundane.
I needed to get a grip, call my doctor, maybe actually use some of those vacation days I’d been stockpiling.
A soft scraping sound, like something large shifting its weight, broke through the unnatural silence.
I looked up.
Standing in front of me, not ten feet away, was a reindeer.
Not a decoration. Not a massive dog dressed up by its owner.
An actual, massive, breathing reindeer with an impressive rack of antlers that spanned wider than outstretched arms. Its dark slate eyes fixed on mine with an intelligence that made the hair on the back of my neck stand up.
In Palm Springs.
In November.
The reindeer and I stared at each other in what might have been the most surreal staring contest in the history of staring contests.
My brain cycled through rational explanations with the desperation of someone trying to justify why their ex’s belongings were still in their apartment six months post-breakup.
Escaped zoo animal? Desert mirage? Elaborate Christmas promotional stunt?
The consequences of skipping breakfast while hungover?
I didn’t move. Neither did the reindeer.
Its coat was rich brown, glossy, and well-groomed.
This wasn’t some scruffy wild animal that had wandered in from.
.. wherever the hell wild reindeer lived.
Certainly not in the California desert. The creature’s antlers curved majestically overhead, branching out in patterns that seemed almost mathematical in their precision.
The reindeer took a step forward, hooves silent against the gravel. Then another. The distance between us shrank. He was close enough that I could see the way his nostrils flared slightly with each breath, the intelligent focus in his eyes.
“You’re not ready yet.”
I jerked upright, nearly falling off the bench. The voice hadn’t come from outside me. It had resonated inside my skull, deep and quiet and utterly impossible.
“What the fuck?” My voice sounded weak compared to the rich timbre that had just occupied my thoughts. “What does that even mean? Not ready for what?”
The reindeer blinked but offered no explanation.
“Great. I’m having a one-sided conversation with a hallucinated reindeer in a public park.
” I tried to rake my fingers through my hair, forgetting it was still in its tight bun from work.
“Do you know why I’m suddenly freezing things?
Why my eyes did that weird glowy thing? Why Christmas seems to be haunting me? ”
Nothing. Just that steady, unnerving stare.
“Is this some kind of karmic retribution for all those years I’ve spent hating tinsel and threatening to strangle carolers?
” I laughed, the sound edging toward hysteria.
Why was I talking to a reindeer? “Or am I just sad my parents aren’t visiting?
They’ve missed every important moment of my life since I was fifteen because, apparently, magnetic fields are more interesting than their only child. ”
I guess my parents canceling their visit was bothering me more than I thought.
The reindeer tilted its head, antlers shifting gracefully with the movement. For a moment, I thought I saw something like sadness flicker in his eyes.
“This is absurd,” I whispered, more to myself than my antlered audience. “I should be calling my doctor, not confessing my childhood abandonment issues to Donner or Blitzen or whoever the hell you’re supposed to be.”
Something that sounded eerily like a growl came from the beast. He turned away from me, taking several steps toward the path that led to the hiking trail outside my community.
“Wait!” I called out, jumping to my feet, suddenly desperate. “What’s happening to me?”
It stopped and looked back over one shoulder.
“Soon.”
I stumbled backward, the bench catching me behind the knees. My heart felt like his silent hooves had stomped on it and altered it in an indescribable way.
Squeezing my eyes shut, I counted to three, trying to regulate my breathing. When I opened them, the reindeer was gone.
I blinked, scanning the park. Nothing. No massive antlered creature, no hoofprints, not even a single reindeer dropping to prove I hadn’t completely lost it.
All that remained was the echo of that voice and the overwhelming certainty that something in my life had changed forever.
And just as the voice had said, I wasn’t ready.