I was not supposed to open that freezer. No on directly told me not to open the full-size freezer behind our house, but after hearing my sister’s scream from that afternoon, I caught the vibe I would regret opening that freezer.

No one caught me sneaking out the back door since everyone’s focus was on their own affairs after the dinner clean-up. My bare feet silently crushed the soft, dry grass as I tiptoed in the dim light toward the foreboding freezer. Even the bubble I formed with my cinnamon gum popped in a shriveling silence as I reached the elevated deck where the tall freezer loomed. My feet crept up the steps without a creak or a groan to be heard.

My hands, shaking, slid up the plastic door to grip the warm, metal handle. I pulled only slightly at first, but then had to use all the strength my six-year-old body could muster before the door gave way and pushed frigid white chill into the summer-struck air. My eyes widened in the midst of the cold at first view of that thing which reigned over the surrounding, foil-wrapped meat.

My eyes first locked onto the frosty, black nose where a bit of snot still hung in the doorway of the left nostril. After admiring the points on the rather small set of antlers, I let my eyes slide down the nicked, brown pelt to the severed neck, where frozen, scarlet blood gathered in the plastic wrap that covered the amputation.
I then could not help but look into the dead, frosted eyes. A tremor traveled through my spine; straight to the tailbone, but I could not just scream and turn away. I took in a deep breath of air that smelt and tasted of wild game and stale winter, accidently swallowing my gum.
The eyes just stared at me, looking like black-blue grapes beginning to shrivel at the edges. On impulse, I let my left hand slip up above the severed neck and past the iced nose. Chewing my lip with nervous, I raised my index finger and touched the frozen gel called “the right eye”. It felt like the root beer Popsicle I had eaten at lunch.
My hand shooting back, I slammed the freezer door with a loud bang and jumped off the deck, scurrying to the backdoor; my fascination with the deer’s head suddenly over. I barged into the kitchen and let my hands run over rushing water from the kitchen sink for ten minutes, utterly disgusted.
The next day, despite abhorrence from the day before, I snuck out again to thank Herkimer (Yes, I named him) for being such a delicious dinner.