Chapter 5: The Mummified Deer

Chapter 5: The Mummified Deer

The image was seared onto the back of her eyelids: an unhinged jaw, rows of silver needles, and a silent, convulsing body. For a long moment after the thing that was Mr. Bell had glided back into the woods with his victim, Lily remained frozen, her forehead pressed against the cold glass of the windowpane. Her mind was a white-hot scream of static. The soundless shriek that had ripped through her had left her hollow, a fragile shell on the verge of shattering.

Then, the paralysis broke.

With a choked, gasping sob, she stumbled away from the window, fumbling for her phone on the nightstand. Her fingers were clumsy, numb claws. She almost dropped it twice before the screen lit up, blindingly bright in the dark room. Her thumb shook so violently it took three attempts to dial 9-1-1.

“911, what is your emergency?” The operator’s voice was calm, a disembodied anchor in a world that had come unmoored.

“A man… my neighbor… he took a woman,” Lily stammered, her voice a hoarse, unrecognizable croak. “Into the woods. He… he hurt her.”

“Ma’am, slow down. What is your address?”

Lily gave it, the familiar words feeling like a foreign language on her tongue.

“Okay, ma’am. You said your neighbor took a woman into the woods. Is he still there?”

“No, he… he came back. He…” He floated. The words died in her throat. How could she say that? How could she explain the unhinged jaw and the needle teeth? They’d think she was insane. They would lock her up. “He attacked her. In the clearing behind my house. You have to send someone!”

“Is the woman still in the woods?”

“I… I don’t know. He took her deeper. I can’t see her anymore.” Her words dissolved into ragged, uncontrollable sobs. She was failing. She sounded exactly like what she feared she was becoming: a hysterical, mad woman.

“Okay, Lily. A car is on its way. Just stay on the line.” The operator’s professional calm now felt like a judgment.

It felt like an eternity, but it was probably only ten minutes before the blue and red lights washed silently over her bedroom walls. Lily, wrapped in the afghan from her vigil, stumbled downstairs to meet them.

Two officers stood on her porch, a tall, weary-looking man in his late forties with a salt-and-pepper mustache, and a younger, sharper-featured officer whose eyes darted around, taking everything in.

“Miss Thorne?” the older one, whose name tag read Davis, asked gently. “I’m Officer Davis, this is Officer Chen. The dispatcher said you saw an assault?”

“Yes. In the woods. My neighbor, Mr. Bell. He lured a woman out of the Miller house, and he took her into the woods and… and…” She faltered, the grotesque vision replaying in her mind.

Officer Davis’s eyes were full of a practiced, tired sympathy. “Miss Thorne, we’re aware of your recent… loss. Are you sure you didn’t just have a nightmare? It’s been a stressful time.”

“I was not sleeping!” Lily insisted, her voice rising with a frantic edge she couldn’t control. “I was awake all night! I saw him! Go look! In the clearing, just past the fence line!”

The two officers exchanged a look. It was the look people give to the unwell, a mixture of pity and professional obligation. But they unholstered their heavy flashlights, their powerful beams cutting through the pre-dawn gloom. “Alright, Miss. Show us where.”

Lily led them through the damp grass of her backyard. Her bare feet were cold, but she didn’t feel it. Her entire being was focused on that small patch of earth, praying for some evidence, some sign that she wasn’t losing her mind. A shoe. A torn piece of fabric. A drop of blood.

The beams of their flashlights danced over the clearing. It was empty. The ground was covered in a soft layer of pine needles and damp earth, but it was undisturbed. There were no signs of a struggle. No drag marks. No footprints other than their own.

“There’s nothing here, Miss Thorne,” Officer Chen said, his voice flat.

“No, she was right here!” Lily cried, pointing to the spot. “He… he held her here! There has to be something!” She dropped to her knees, her hands frantically patting the ground, coming away with nothing but dirt and dampness. Of course there were no footprints. One of them floated. The other was in a trance. The monster was perfect. It was clean.

“Lily,” Officer Davis said, his voice softening. “The Millers are on vacation. Their house is secure. We checked. No one is staying there. There’s no sign of forced entry. No one is missing.”

Her credibility, already fragile, crumbled into dust. They thought she’d imagined it all. The grieving, sleepless daughter, hallucinating horrors in the dark. Tears of frustration and terror streamed down her face. “You don’t believe me.”

“We believe you saw something,” Chen corrected carefully. “But there’s no evidence of a crime here.”

“We’ll do one more sweep of the area, just to be sure,” Davis added, a placating gesture.

Their flashlights cut a wider arc through the trees, illuminating the underbrush. Lily stood, defeated, wrapped in her afghan, watching them perform their useless ritual. It was then that Officer Chen’s light stopped, fixed on something a few yards deeper into the woods.

“Hey, Davis. Look at this.”

They converged on the spot. Lily, drawn by the change in their tone, crept closer. Lying in a bed of ferns, partially hidden by a fallen log, was a deer.

Or what was left of one.

It wasn't bloody or torn apart by predators. It was… empty. Its body was perfectly intact but strangely shrunken, its leathery hide stretched tight over its skeleton like dried parchment. It was desiccated, mummified, as if it had been lying in a desert sun for a hundred years, not in the damp woods of suburbia. Its eyes, wide with a final, frozen terror, were dull, sunken pits that reflected no light.

“What the hell?” Chen muttered, prodding the carcass with the toe of his boot. A small puff of fine, grey dust rose from the contact. The thing was brittle.

“Coyotes, maybe?” Davis offered, though he didn’t sound convinced. “Sucked it dry? I’ve never seen anything like it.”

Lily stared at the dusty husk. She knew what she was looking at. It wasn't coyotes. This was his work. This was what his feeding looked like. A body left hollow, its life, its essence, its very moisture consumed until nothing remained but a fragile, weightless shell. The deer was her proof, but it was proof they couldn't possibly understand.

The police left soon after, promising to call animal control in the morning. Their final words to her were gentle, condescending instructions to get some sleep and call her doctor if she felt she needed to talk to someone. The rising sun cast long, innocent shadows as their cruiser pulled away, leaving Lily utterly and completely alone, her sanity shattered and her testimony dismissed.

She walked back to her house in a daze, the world feeling thin and unreal. The mundane morning light was an insult to the profound, Lovecraftian horror she had witnessed. She was the only person on this quiet, perfect street who knew a monster lived among them.

As she reached her front porch, her foot hit something. She looked down.

Sitting squarely on her welcome mat was a small, neat package wrapped in plain brown paper. It hadn't been there when she’d met the police.

A cold, electric dread, worse than anything she had felt before, shot through her. With a trembling hand, she reached down and picked it up. It was still warm. She tore at the paper, her fingers clumsy. Inside was a small, silver thermos.

She unscrewed the cap. A wisp of steam curled into the morning air, carrying with it a scent that was instantly, horrifyingly familiar from her mother’s journal.

The smell of ozone and old pennies. The smell of metal.

It was his tea.

He hadn’t just seen her in the window. He had watched the police come and go. He had waited until she was officially declared hysterical, isolated, and completely unbelievable. And then he had walked over and left her a gift.

It wasn't an apology. It wasn't a peace offering. It was a message, delivered with the same silent, patient malevolence with which he did everything else.

I know you saw. I know you know.

The metallic scent filled her lungs, a prelude, a promise.

You’re next.