The voice, high-pitched and scratchy cut through the relative stillness of the cabin.  The wind wailed through the trees outside, but it seemed distant and muffled somehow.

“Poor Professor Knowby.  You look troubled.  Are you having problems with the translations of the book?”

The professor cursed under his breath, not looking up at the source of the voice, refusing to give it any attention whatsoever.  Instead, he continued to go over the ancient, seemingly fragile pages, his head swimming every time he tried to concentrate on the ancient Sumerian text.

“Poor Professor Knowby.  You ARE troubled.  Why don’t you let me help you with your work?”

Ignoring the voice yet again, he activated the tape recorder on his desk and began to record the original pronunciation of the incantations.  Surely the book would be easier to translate from hearing the spoken word rather than just the written.

“Poor Professor Knowby.  So very, very troubled.  Maybe you should let me-”

Suddenly the professor whirled on the stuffed deer head mounted on the wall.  It’s eyes were white and glazed over, it’s muzzle curled into a mocking sneer as the professor cut off it’s leering, sing-song voice.

“You think this troubles me?!”  He roared, grabbing a fist full of pages and waving them madly at his taxidermied antagonist.  "Maddening winds?  Vanishing paths?“  He slumped to his knees, the energy going out of him as he whispered, "Henrietta?  My dear, sweet Henrietta… B. buried.. in the fruit cellar…”

The deer head went silent for a moment, almost looking upon the poor old man with sympathy.  "Yes, poor, sweet Henrietta.“  The head snapped up, glaring down at the professor and sneering, "I told you to dismember her!!”  It then broke out in uproarious, cackling laughter, leaving Professor Knowby curled up and weeping on the wooden floor.