The Elkman

 Jack Barnett, age 26, is charged with murder and found guilty. He is issued a life sentence at an asylum. The court trials took place on the 14th of February, 1993. The incident took place on the 24th of December, 1992.

 DECEMBER 23, 1992                                                                                                                                                                                 District of Columbia, Washington. Jack Barnett drives his pickup truck to a small ranch just outside the city. This farmhouse stood on a plain, surrounded by towering trees. Its proprietor, David Shank, has hired Jack to find and kill what he thinks is attacking his livestock. A wolf. Being a professional hunter, Jack sees this as a quick and simple task. David Shank offers all the information he has on the attacks. Shank noticed that he would find one of his goats missing, and would spot a cow corpse. These were no ordinary corpses. The carcasses seemed to be riddled with holes, about ten of them. These were deep, gaping holes, unlike any that would have been left by a wolf’s teeth. The only evidence of non-human entry or exit onto Mr Shank’s property were some deer tracks. They walked into the house, which was fairly ordinary as far as Jack was concerned. They sat at the table, where they had coffee and discussed the terms of their agreement. Jack would be paid only upon completion of the task. It was around five o’ clock when Jack began investigating. He first went to see the barn. Nothing strange aside from a hole-ridden cow corpse and deer tracks. Barnett went around the whole area. Nothing of interest. It was too late to investigate further. Night was falling. Jack and David prepared their armaments. Two hunting shotguns each utilizing twelve-gauge rounds, strong enough to pierce through 2 inches of steel. Their secondary arms were standard 9 millimetre pistols, both of which were semi-automatic. And so they waited near the barnyard. It was ten o’ clock in the evening. David and Jack waited for a good two hours. Shank fell asleep on the cold, moist ground. A rustling sound came from the woods. Jack Barnett’s hands were shaking. He trembled. He was sweating like a pig. His forefinger inched toward the trigger of his shotgun. And as a figure appeared out of the forest a loud bang echoed across the woods. A ringing sound in Jack’s ear prevented him from concentrating. His head spun and his eyes wandered, searching for something to make him relax. But what he found was far from relaxing. A half-dead, bloody deer with a red, gut-strewn paste hanging out of its place fell to the ground. As the creature twisted and jerked, Barnett passed out beside David, who surprisingly remained asleep even after the gunshot.

 DECEMBER 24, 1992

 Still dizzy from whatever happened, Jack Barnett rose from his slumber. The deer had now been dead for three hours. It was around three o’ clock in the morning, and this living nightmare had just begun. Jack managed to prop himself up, with the help of his gun, of course. He placed his hand on David Shank’s shoulder, shaking him lightly. The pair went over to the cornfield, where Jack had investigated earlier. And much to their surprise, they spotted two humongous antlers protruding out of the stalks. They entered the small forest of crops as they loaded their weapons. Five feet away. The sound of breathing and footsteps plodding through the damp soil filled their ears. Four feet away. The two men took a few steps. Three feet away. Their breaths condensed in the chilly morning air. Two feet away. Jack was hyperventilating ever so quietly. His heart raced. His spine tingled. Then he put his finger on the trigger.

 Trigger. Click. Bang. Echo. Deep breath. Plop.

 “Better him than us”, said Shank, who managed to smile at the dead moose’s carcass. The two were breathing heavily as if they ran a marathon. The pair headed back to the farmhouse.

 Door. Knob. Twist. Open. Enter. Close. Chain Lock. Slide. Walk away.

 And for a moment they felt safe. Everything was perfect in the little ranch house. Shank told Barnett to get some rest. Jack went to the guest bathroom and washed up. The freezing water hit his face, causing him to briefly shout. The sound of that shout never reached Shank’s ears, though. The noise of heavy rain filled the corridors and rooms of the house. Jack jumped due to the brief flash of light followed by a heavy cracking sound. Jack tilted his head towards the small window in the wall. What he saw next was indescribable. A pair of antlers entered Jack’s peripheral vision. Then it disappeared due to the absence of lightning. Another strike of lightning. But what Jack discovered was that this was not a creature he had seen before. The antlers were now resting upon what seemed to be a human head. He scanned the figure, which had its back turned on Jack. The porch lights were then triggered due to movement. Now Jack could see. A head with antlers. A human head with antlers. Then Jack saw its body. The figure harboured human-like features, yet at the same time, it looked intriguing. Long, spider-like arms, like arms that a man shouldn’t have. Its skin was a pale shade of grey, its figure was unnerving. The thing’s bones were all too evident, as if they were going to rip out of the figure’s skin. The legs. Jack had seen legs like these before. Except that they were attached to the body of a deer. These legs were very long and slender. Its feet were hidden in the ground, if it had feet. Then the lights went out. Lightning. The figure was now closer to the window, still having its back turned. Darkness, then light again. Jack froze. The thing was now looking into Jack. It was not just staring, it looked into him. Jack was frozen, he didn’t stop staring back. Whether it was out of fear or awe, he stared. The eyes of that creature were dazzling in a horrifying sense. They were white as mist. This whiteness filled its eyes, nothing but white. Its smile was most unnerving. It smiled in a way that looked wrong, as if its jaws were too small to hold this terrifying grin. Darkness. Light. The thing was gone. Jack fell to the floor and started breathing heavily. He closed his eyes, and hummed himself a lullaby. For some reason, Jack did not ask himself what he had just seen. A sense of familiarity struck him. Jack put on a coat and went outside. He was now looking at the deer tracks, and he followed them into the forest. What he found was shocking. The deer tracks “morphed”, track by track, the hooves became……hands. Human hands imprinted on soil. His hairs stood. Goosebumps were now all over his skin. Then he goes into the barn, where another horror awaited him. A fresh corpse of a cow. Same as the others, it was ridden with holes. Jack nearly vomited. He leans in closer. He touches the carcass, and it turns out to be hollow. As if the cow had been professionally gutted. His skin crawled. He shuddered. It was 4 a.m. Then Jack hears a loud sound from the house. The sound of a door breaking. He runs. Arriving at the door, he stops. The door was still there, intact. Then he turned around. The figure towered over Jack, in all its nine-foot terror. In its hand was a familiar object. The object’s name was David Shank. The figure walks closer. It contorted its back and hunched. It bent its arms in strange ways, causing Shank to be flung around freely. And now it was standing over Jack. It smiled. The smile that only “it” could make. Jack closed his eyes as the figure stood over him, unblinking, unmoving.

 D.C. police find Shank’s body impaled on a tree, full of holes. A shotgun was placed near this tree, sound evidence of a murder. The body is ridden with holes, but it did not turn out to be a body. It was a piece of skin wrapped in clothing. The police find Barnett’s fingerprints on the gun. In court, Jack claimed that it was not him. The only thing he said throughout the duration of the trials was: “He’s going to come for you. All of you. One by one. Then he’ll take me last.” “The Elkman.”