The Wolf's Eye: A Series of Short Horror Stories

Animals in the Shed

My father, he likes science. More specifically, he likes experimenting with different things.

I never thought anything of it. I didn't even question the noises I heard.

Every single night, I would get woken up by these weird noises. They sounded like screams, but not quite. I woke up, went over to my window, and looked out at the shed in the backyard. The doors were closed, but I could see the light from my father's tools. I didn't know what he was working on, and I was too afraid to find out.

Then the morning came. As I was eating breakfast, I saw my father come into the living room. He looked dead tired; his eyes were surrounded by dark bags. He came staggering into the kitchen, not even looking at me.

I decided I would ask.

"Hey, Dad," I said, "I had a question."

He didn't say anything. He didn't look at me.

"I...heard some noises outside last night," I said. "What were you doing in the shed?"

He turned around and began to walk away.

I took a deep breath. "I want to see what's in the shed."

At that moment, he froze solid. His eyes widened and he swung around to face me. "Don't," he growled, "you ever go in that shed! Do you understand me?!"

I jumped. "A-Alright...I'm sorry..."

And with that, he turned around and walked upstairs.

I went over to my neighbor's to ask if she knew anything, though I doubted she did. Marisa lived in a pretty run-down house; her windows remained boarded up, her plants were dead, and leaves covered the front lawn. I'd never been inside her house, so of course I was nervous to see what the inside was like.

I went up to knock on the door. Upon standing there waiting for three minutes, I rapped again, harder. The door slowly creaked open and a head poked in the doorway. Marisa's hair sat in a matted mess and bags hung under her eyes. Her hands trembled as she clutched the door. "Can I help you?"

"H-Hi, Marisa," I said. "Do you mind if I come in? I had something to ask you."

The door opened wider and she nodded. "Come in."

The inside was worse than the outside. I was practically swimming in newspapers and garbage. It smelled terrible, like something was slowly rotting. I sat down on the torn couch, which creaked loudly when I did so. Marisa sat down on the chair next to me, trembling slightly. "So," she asked quietly, "what did you want?"

"Um...my father," I said, "he's been working on something. Do you know what?"

"Y-Your father? No, I...I have no idea."

I looked around. "By the way...where is Maya?"

At that moment, Marisa froze solid.

"I haven't seen her around," I said, remembering the small white feline. "Where is she?"

Snapping herself out of her daze, Marisa shook her head. "I think...it's time for you to go home now."

"W-What?"

"Please leave..."

I stood up, half-expecting Marisa to show me the door, but she didn't move. She simply sat in her chair, staring at her lap.

The next place I went to was my neighbor on the left, Natalie. She was slightly older than me, and she was also a good friend of mine. I walked up to her door and rang the doorbell. Oddly, I didn't hear the usual eager barking of the small dog they owned. The door opened immediately, though it wasn't Natalie who answered. An old man wearing a bathrobe and slippers stood in the doorway. I recognized him as Martin, Natalie's grandfather. He smiled at me and pushed open the screen door. "Hello there, dear," he said, gesturing for me to come in. "How are you?"

"Good," I said with a smile. "Is Natalie here?"

He suddenly went silent. "N-No," he said. "Sorry, but...Natalie isn't here."

"O-Oh...any idea when she'll be back?"

"Uh...not...not for a while..."

"Oh...okay. Well, I'll ask you then, Mr. Martin. Do you know anything about my father and what he's working on?"

A smile was forced onto his face. "Ah, your father! What a good man..."

"Yeah," I said impatiently, "but what is he working on?"

Martin simply laughed and opened up the front door again. "I'm afraid I have to get ready for something," he said quickly. "Have a safe trip home, now."

"But Mr. Martin, I actually came here on other matters! I--"

That was as far as I could get before he shoved me out the door. As he closed the door, I could hear a low, angry grumble.

"That goddamned animal...what is he thinking?"

I'd had enough. So, I decided to check it out by myself.

My dad wasn't home at the time, which gave me the liberty of having the shed to myself. I ducked into the backyard and approached the doors to the shed. There was a large, chained padlock on it, so I looked around to see what I could find to break it off. And luckily, in the garage, I found a hammer. Taking a deep breath, I approached the shed again. I lifted the hammer and hit the padlock with it a few times before it finally gave way and broke into pieces on the ground in front of me. As I put a hand on the door, I could hear a sound coming from inside of the shed. It didn't sound like a human. It didn't sound like an animal.

It sounded like a monster.

Shivering, my hair standing on end, I pushed the doors open. When I saw where the noise emanated from, I felt ready to collapse.

Several animals were seemingly mushed into one immense being. Not only did I see what looked like Natalie's dog, but I could see so many distinct animals. I heard an agonized meow coming from the thing, and in it I could make out Marisa's cat, Maya. Besides it, there was what looked to be a goose, an ape, and a pigeon. All of them were mashed into a single monster. Blood covered the ground. Parts of their bodies were either sewn together or not there entirely. It was all just a sight of agony and suffering and horror. And my father was the one to create it.

Everyone seemed so distraught and shattered, especially Marisa and Natalie. But me, I just didn't know what to think. I didn't know what to feel. My dad was a psychopath. My dad was a psychopath. I just couldn't accept the fact that, somewhere along the way, my dad gotten the idea in his head to mutilate animals like that and call it an "experiment." I didn't know what he was trying to create. I didn't know why he wanted to create it.

All I know is, every single time I think about my father, my mind always goes back to the animals in the shed.