They stepped cautiously into the sporting goods store, their flashlights cutting narrow beams through the dimness. The store was quiet, with only the faint hum of flickering overhead lights breaking the silence. Glassy-eyed animals mounted on the walls stared down at them, their lifelike expressions frozen in unnatural stillness.
“This place feels… wrong,” Maya whispered, shivering as she glanced at a snarling wolf’s head mounted above a row of hunting rifles. “Like we’re being watched.”
“Maybe it’s just the animals,” Damien replied, though his voice was tight. “Or maybe this whole place is just cursed.”
Lex scanned the room, her flashlight illuminating shelves lined with fishing rods, hunting gear, and sports equipment. “Let’s keep our voices down. The Taxidermist could be here… somewhere.”
The friends moved carefully through the aisles, their senses heightened, every shadow and sound sending their nerves on edge. Lex’s mind raced as they ventured deeper, her gaze shifting between her friends and the eerie displays around them.
“If we’re lucky,” Sophie whispered, “maybe he isn’t here right now. Maybe we can grab supplies and get out.”
Brandon shook his head, his eyes narrowing as he scanned their surroundings. “No… this place feels too… prepared. Like he’s expecting visitors.”
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The friends exchanged uneasy glances as they moved further into the store, their footsteps barely audible over the oppressive silence. The mounted animals became more frequent, their lifelike poses unsettling in the flickering light. Deer with wide, glassy eyes stared at them, while foxes and bears seemed to snarl from their perches. Each creature was preserved with a disturbing level of care, every detail captured with precision.
“This guy’s got a serious obsession,” Damien muttered, eyeing a mountain lion posed as if it were about to pounce. “This isn’t just a hobby. It’s… something else.”
Sophie shuddered, her gaze lingering on a display of smaller animals—rabbits, squirrels, birds—all frozen in lifelike poses. “Who even has a collection like this? And why here, in a mall?”
Lex’s voice was steady but grim. “He’s a Psycho. And this is his twisted art.”
They continued deeper into the store, the air thickening with a strange, chemical scent. It was faint but distinct—an unpleasant blend of preservatives, like formaldehyde, lingering in the back of their throats.
“Smell that?” Maya whispered, covering her nose. “It’s like… a lab or something.”
Brandon nodded, frowning as he inspected a small workbench tucked in a corner. “He must use this place to prepare… whatever he’s preserving.”
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As they rounded a corner, they came upon a display that stopped them cold. At first glance, it looked like another row of mannequins, but as their flashlights passed over the figures, they realized these weren’t mannequins at all.
The figures were people. Preserved, posed, and meticulously arranged like living statues.
Maya gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. “Oh… my god.”
The preserved figures stood in various poses—a woman frozen in mid-laugh, a man holding an imaginary drink, and a young girl reaching out as if she were about to grasp something just beyond her reach. Each figure had been carefully positioned, their expressions captured in agonizing detail.
“These… these were real people,” Sophie whispered, horror etched across her face. “He… he’s been doing this to humans.”
Damien’s face twisted with disgust as he looked away, clenching his fists. “This freak. This twisted, sick freak.”
Lex’s eyes were hard, her gaze fixed on the macabre display. “Now we know what happened to some of the other survivors. He… ‘preserved’ them.”
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The friends backed away from the display, their skin crawling, but as they moved, they heard a faint sound—a soft hum, almost like music. It was coming from somewhere in the store, an old, scratchy tune that made their skin prickle with unease.
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“What… is that?” Brandon whispered, his voice barely audible.
Lex tilted her head, listening. “It sounds like… an old record player.”
They followed the sound, each step filled with dread as they ventured deeper into the sporting goods store. The music grew louder, a haunting melody that seemed to echo off the walls, filling the air with an eerie calm. The tune was slow, almost hypnotic, lulling them into a trance-like state.
As they rounded a corner, they saw the source of the sound—a dusty record player sitting on a table, the needle spinning over an old vinyl, filling the room with the haunting melody.
“Why would he… play music like this?” Maya whispered, her voice filled with unease.
“Maybe he likes the ambiance,” Damien muttered, his voice dripping with disgust. “Or maybe he just enjoys making everything as creepy as possible.”
Suddenly, the music stopped. The silence that followed was deafening, pressing down on them as they stood frozen, hardly daring to breathe.
And then… a voice crackled through a nearby speaker, smooth and composed, as if welcoming them to a private gallery.
“Ah… visitors. How lovely.”
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The friends froze, their eyes widening as the voice echoed through the store, smooth and unsettlingly polite. It was a voice that held no malice, only a quiet satisfaction, as though the speaker had been expecting them.
“I see you’ve found my collection,” the voice continued, a hint of pride lacing his words. “Each piece carefully preserved, each moment captured in eternity. Beautiful, isn’t it?”
Lex clenched her fists, her voice trembling with barely-contained anger. “You… you did this to people. You killed them.”
The voice chuckled softly, unbothered by the accusation. “Kill? No, no… I preserved them. I saved them from the decay of time, from the ugliness of entropy. I made them immortal.”
“You’re sick,” Damien spat, glaring at the speaker as though the man could see him. “These are people, not trophies.”
There was a pause, and then the voice responded, his tone calm and unaffected. “I suppose art is subjective. But you’ll understand soon enough. Perhaps… you’ll even join them.”
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The friends exchanged uneasy glances, their fear mounting as the reality of their situation settled in. The Taxidermist was here, watching them, and he was toying with them, treating them as though they were already part of his grotesque collection.
“What do we do?” Maya whispered, clutching her flashlight tightly.
Lex’s eyes narrowed. “We get out. Now.”
They turned to head back the way they came, but the sound of footsteps echoed from the aisle behind them—slow, deliberate, drawing closer. The friends’ breaths quickened as they realized the Taxidermist wasn’t just watching them anymore… he was hunting them.
“We need to move,” Lex whispered urgently. “He’s trying to trap us.”
They darted down an aisle filled with sporting gear, their footsteps muffled by the thick carpeting. The silence felt oppressive, like a weight pressing down on them as they moved, their flashlights barely illuminating the path ahead.
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As they rounded a corner, Sophie stumbled, catching herself on a display case. Her flashlight beam swept over a figure nearby, and for a brief, horrifying moment, she thought it was another preserved person. But as she looked closer, she realized it was just a mannequin, posed like a runner mid-stride.
“This place is like a maze,” Brandon muttered, glancing around. “He’s probably memorized every inch of it.”
“That’s what he wants,” Lex replied, her eyes sharp. “He wants us to get lost, to panic.”
“Well, it’s working,” Damien whispered, gripping his airsoft gun tightly. “We can’t let him corner us.”
They moved faster, ducking through aisles and dodging displays as they searched for an exit. But every turn seemed to lead them deeper into the store, into a maze of hunting gear, mannequins, and mounted trophies that only added to the unsettling atmosphere.
Suddenly, a light flickered on at the end of an aisle, illuminating a tall, gaunt figure standing in the distance. The Taxidermist.
He stood motionless, watching them with a calm, almost serene expression, as though they were nothing more than exhibits in his personal gallery. In his hand, he held a long, slender needle, glinting under the harsh fluorescent light.
“Please,” he said, his voice carrying through the stillness. “Don’t be afraid. Immortality is a gift. I only want to share it with you.”
Maya stifled a gasp, her face pale. “He… he’s serious. He wants us… like them.”
“Not happening,” Lex whispered, her voice filled with determination. “Move, now!”
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They bolted, running through the aisles as the Taxidermist’s footsteps echoed behind them, unhurried but steady. The friends weaved through displays, their hearts pounding as they searched for a way out. But the store was a maze, and every path seemed to lead them deeper into the Taxidermist’s territory.
As they rounded a corner, they saw an emergency exit sign flickering above a door. Relief surged through them, and they sprinted toward it, their breaths ragged.
But just as they reached the door, it clicked shut, locking them inside. A soft chuckle echoed from the speakers. “You’re not leaving yet. I haven’t finished my masterpiece.”
The friends’ hearts sank as they realized they were truly trapped, caught in the Taxidermist’s twisted gallery. They exchanged desperate glances, steeling themselves for what was to come.
“We’ll find another way,” Lex said, her voice firm. “We’re not going to end up as his trophies.”
But as they moved deeper into the store, the Taxidermist’s calm voice followed them, filling the air with an unsettling calm as he spoke of his “art,” his footsteps drawing closer with every word.
End