Deertrack: Three Stories

By Ethan Lee

Deertrack is not a perfect suburb. Murderous cults haunt the forest and lurk in the basements of townhomes. Witch covens make blood sacrifices to heathen gods in the back of the local tavern. The woods are littered with occult imagery, and even the local high schoolers toast Satan while they drink stolen beer. The horror stretches back ages; it rots the mind and makes the souls of all living beings foul. 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ethan Lee
• Release date: May 15, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223306474

Book preview

Reflections On Hermit’s Wood

It was always ridiculous to believe that anything nefarious took place in Hermit’s Wood. The absurdity of the accusations didn’t change, even after Angeline Ramirez hung herself with a green rope purchased from Everett’s Hardware.

I’ve often wondered why she chose green.

The hysteria was only further cemented when Detective Eyre found supposed Satanic graffiti in Hermit’s Wood. He was a small-town cop, raised in Cobb’s Harbor about four miles north of Deertrack. That Detective Eyre or anyone else in the semi-rural community could identify signs of Satanism was patently absurd.

On Bedrock, a collection of three boulders situated about fifty yards off the main trail, the detective found a graffiti mural consisting of, but not limited to: pentagrams, crucified women, scenes of non-consensual copulation, inverted crosses, Zodiac symbols, and markings later identified as Aramaic. Such images—especially those that were pornographic, of course—caused a hysterical reaction in the small town of Deertrack. I recall that my mother and several of her friends discussed not sending us to school. She was afraid we might be indoctrinated or stolen into a cult. Unfortunately, my mother did not follow through on this idea, and the whole time that this Satanic hysteria swept through town, she still forced me to attend The Main Street School.

I remember almost nothing about The Main Street School other than staring at Rose Din’s backside as I ignored the pre-Algebra lesson. Yet, I do have pretty vivid memories of the weeks surrounding Angeline Ramirez’s suicide. We wrote reflection poems with Mr. Sandler. During homeroom, Officer Brighton visited to discuss public safety. Dr. Bowman—who would resign twelve years later due to accusations of misconduct with students—came on the loudspeaker each morning to remind us of our duty to keep each other safe.

We never discussed the actual actions to be taken, nor were we given any instruction in morals, civic virtues, or anything resembling a foundational order upon which we could base our resistance. As a result, we were powerless against whatever nefarious forces supposedly dwelt within the forest. The adults could not even precisely explain to us what was so wrong about the graffiti or the events that might be taking place in Hermit’s Wood. Worst of all, no one could adequately name for me what was so wrong with Angeline’s suicide. Yes, her mother cried profusely at the funeral, which stirred my young heart because I knew it was wrong to make your mother cry. Still, I did plenty of things to cause my mother to burst into tears. Were my annoying habits equally as malicious as Angeline hanging herself from an oak tree?

Later in life, as a college student, I learned that Angeline Ramirez had been naked at the time of her death. Moreover, there were clear signs of sexual contact with