Contagion

We did not know why he came here.

His clothes were yellow, like those of the hazmat teams. He breathed shallowly, and was certain always to keep his face covered. The light was behind him - we could not see even what little of his face he was forced to leave exposed. This, we thought, he fully intended.

For fully twenty minutes, he stood there, watching, as we waited for something - anything - to happen. He responded to nothing we said, nothing we did, save when we tried to get too close to him - then he moved one arm sharply, making a barking noise. We kept our distance.

Another man came.

He, too, covered his face, but was less astute in his use of the light - we could see his eyes, pure black, entirely devoid of pupils. If at the coming of the first man we were afraid, now we were terrified; if the first man's clothing suggested a hazmat-suit, then this man's clothes suggested those of the undertaker.

We were contaminated, the second man told us, his voice dry and devoid of intonation. We had sinned - on this point, he was certain we would know to what he referred - and for our sins, we must be punished.

Then the first man came for us - roaring, screaming, frothing at the mouth. We screamed, fled; he hunted us down. We had no chance against his brutal strength.

We were transformed into elk.

Only as elk, the second man told us, could we be redeemed for our sins. We knew it was true.

So now we roam across the tundra of the arctic North, antlers held high. No more are we plagued by guilt for the sins we committed in our past lives. We are absolved; and we are elk.

This, we know, is life as it should be.

Become an elk today.