“The question isn’t how, the question is when.” A cold wind howled across the ground as the police commissioner stood at the podium. The ruddy faced man clamped his bear-mitt hands the microphone. “Whatever came out of the forest is going to come back,” he paused and looked out at the crowd. They stood frozen like mannequins. “We need to get ready.”

“What are you going to do about it?” A man screamed. The frozen mannequins woke up. The crowd became a frenzied pack as the calls for a plan grew louder.

“People, please! We need to calm down.” A glass bottles shattered against the brick wall behind the commissioner.

“Fuck you! That thing took my boy!” A man with a raven’s nest for a beard bellowed. A woman clung to his arm like a drowned rat. Other parents in the crowd took up outburst as a rallying cry.

“We want our kids back! We want our kids back!”

It had been three weeks since the creature burst from the forest and snagged the Henderson’s boy. Another five children went missing that night. A torn arm had been found in the forest. It seemed like a macabre addition for a realistic doll. All the parents shared the same fear— it could be any of theirs.