You were at home, minding your own business. The sun had been down for hours, yet sleep refused to come. Something about tonight felt… off. The air was too thick, the silence pressing in heavier than usual. You couldn’t place why, but an unsettled feeling crept into your bones, keeping you restless. Then you heard it. Tap… tap… tap. A soft, deliberate thump against the back door. Not a knock, no, something heavier. Duller. Like bone, or wood, or… something else. You sat up, straining to listen. A pause. Then again, tap… tap… tap. Something was out there. You hesitated before getting up, your feet feeling too heavy, your breath too loud in the quiet house. You crept toward the back door, every step making your skin crawl, though you couldn’t explain why. Peering through the small window at the top, you squinted into the darkness. A shape stood just outside. It was low to the ground, hunched in a way that seemed unnatural, its silhouette barely illuminated by the pale glow of the moon. Your porch light was off, leaving only vague impressions, thin legs, a round, bloated midsection, something shifting in ways it shouldn’t. You could barely make out movement, slow, steady. Its body swayed, expanding and contracting with a sluggish motion. Then you saw them. A set of antlers. They rocked against the door with that same steady rhythm. Tap… tap… tap. Not frantic, not aggressive. Just patient. Waiting. There were deer in the area, sure. But as you stood frozen, staring at the shifting, swollen mass outside your door, you felt it deep in your gut; whatever this was, it wasn’t a deer.