A Night in a Cabin

Sam awoke in the dark. She wasn’t sure what had awakened her; the room was silent. A soft wind rustled the leaves outside, making a papery chatter that set her nerves on edge. But that wasn’t what dragged her from the depths of sleep.

She reached over to hold Jason, then realized with a start that he wasn’t in bed. There was a piece of paper laying on his side of the bed. “In the outhouse,” it read. Sam breathed a small sigh of relief. Perhaps Jason leaving had woken her. 

They had fled Detroit to a cabin in northern Michigan for their honeymoon, and there was no one to bother them but likeminded neighboring renters, miles away. They hadn’t seen a soul in their three days in the woods. The silence was glorious and the natural world, majestic. The one downside was the fifty-foot walk from the front door to the outhouse, but that was a small price to pay for such a wonderful break from the world. 

 Sam strained her ears listening for Jason’s soft footsteps to return, but she heard only the wind, and even that was dying down. She pulled the blankets up around her upper body and shivered. The cabin was poorly insulated, and the thin tin-covered walls seemed to make the temperature inside more extreme than outside. As Sam lay in bed, she could see her breath with every timid exhalation; it was a fine white mist that shone brightly in the feeble moonlight streaming in through the large bedside window. 

There was something missing that she couldn’t quite put her finger on. The silence in the cabin was thick and oppressive; it made thinking difficult. The building emitted a soft creak that made her shudder. Though she knew it was just the cabin, wild thoughts of dark, nameless terrors raced through her mind like a frightened child with an overactive imagination. 

“This is stupid,” she declared, and rolled over onto her side. At thirty-four, she was much too old to be afraid of the dark, but her mind seemed to disagree. 

She stared out the large bedside window into the forest silhouetted there. The sky beyond the trees was an inky purple, so dark it was almost black. Faint points of light blinked in and out of existence as the tree branches danced in the wind, alternately obscuring and revealing the stars. 

Sam shuddered again and wondered what was taking Jason so long. And what was the temperature at this time of night? He must be freezing. Then she realized what was missing. The large space heater by the door, brought for the cold winter nights like this one, had turned off, and its comforting purr had vanished along with the heat. 

Sam pushed the blankets off herself with a grunt like a gunshot in the silent night, and slid slowly across the bed. Her pajamas made a light swishing sound against the bed sheets. She paused uneasily. The sounds seemed to be shouting the fact of her consciousness out into the unnaturally silent night. She strained her ears for any faint sound, but heard nothing.

She really needed that space heater humming. She swung her feet over the edge of the bed and had one foot on the cold wooden floor, when the noise came. 

A shrill, inhuman shriek pierced the night. It sounded like a mountain lion, but more hoarse and venomous. And close by. Her blood froze in her veins. And then came another sound. Something was moving just outside the cabin. Something big. It made a slow, shuffling sound as it trudged through the snow. A soft rattle came from the wall to her left as something rubbed against the cold, tin siding. And then it stopped. 

Sam froze, one foot on the floor, sitting erect on the edge of the bed, back to the window. She would be fully visible to anyone that looked inside. Or to anything. She could feel the moonlight shining on her back and tried, unsuccessfully, to suppress a shiver that ran down the entirety of her body. As it passed, she let out a breath she hadn’t realized she had been holding. It rushed out of her like steam released from a high pressure system, then hung in the air, silvery and reflective, unwilling to dissipate. 

The shuffling sound came through the walls again. Suddenly, those walls were entirely too thin for Sam’s liking. It had never bothered her before; in fact, she had quite liked listening to the sounds of the forest as she fell asleep next to her new husband. But for the first time, it occurred to her that the thin walls worked both ways. If she could hear this thing shuffling around outside, it would certainly be able to hear her. She prayed that it had not. 

She could hear the grotesque sound of something large dragging through the snow, creeping along the tin outer wall. Anxiety flooded her as she realized that soon, it would turn the corner and pass the wall in front of her. 

The wall with the door. 

Sam became aware that her breath was coming in shallow, ragged gasps. She felt light-headed. She clamped her hand over her mouth and tried to slow her breathing. It seemed deafening in the dark. 

The shuffling slowly turned the corner and a new sound was added to her terror. A harsh scraping sound filled the small cabin, reverberating off the tin that covered the little shack. Large, vicious claws tore their way into Sam’s thoughts. In her mind’s eye, she could see the deep gouges they dug in the thin metal. She tried to push those thoughts away, but the sounds were insistent. 

The sounds edged closer to the door. Sam sat, paralyzed with fear, staring across the room at the flimsy, wooden door. Slowly, the thing scraped its way along the wall. Then a jolt of anxiety hit her as her eyes found the second window. The thing was going to walk right past it! She had been so focused on the door, her panic-stricken mind had forgotten about the window on that side of the cabin. Thank god she had closed the curtain. But it was thin and translucent, and she dreaded what she might see through it. Her eyes, fixed on the window, were unable to move away as the thing strode in front of it. 

A dark shape appeared there, silhouetted in the moonlight. Sam could only see a part of it. She thought it was a person, though it seemed to tower above the window. Then her husband called out, “Sam, can you get the door for me? I locked myself out!” 

“Jason!” she said, and breathed a sigh of relief. She got out of bed and walked towards the door, footsteps ringing out in the quiet cabin. Then she stopped. Jason never called her Sam; it was always some pet name when he spoke to her. The last time he had called her by her name had to have been… 

“Sam! Please let me in! It’s cold out here!” Jason’s voice came through the thin walls loud and clear. 

“How do I know it’s really you, Jason?” She took a tentative step towards the window, her breathing in ragged gasps. She edged closer to the window and reached out a shaking hand.

“What? Come on, just open the door please! It’s freezing out here!” 

Sam grabbed the curtain and slowly drew it back. Outside was a thing that was not Jason. It was hard to tell exactly what it was. She glimpsed a thin, emaciated body with ribs showing through its chest. She thought it had patches of thick, short hair, but before she could decide what she truly saw, the creature bent down in a rush, and two faint points of light slammed themselves against the window. 

Sam screamed. The creature’s eyes bored into her soul, filling her with an overwhelming dread. She fell backwards onto the floor, breaking eye contact with it. 

There was a loud TAP TAP on the window. It was a sharp, piercing sound that sent chills down her entire body. She whimpered and realized she was shaking. Another TAP TAP TAP came from the window. Then a sharp CRACK and the tinkling of broken glass as it fell to the floor. 

A horrible stench filled the air. It smelled like rotting corpses left in the sun for days. Sam struggled not to vomit, barely managing it. She stared, transfixed, as a thin, bony hand with unnaturally long fingers reached through the glass, grasped the window frame, and attempted to force it open. Those horrible glowing eyes never left Sam’s face. 

Then the creature spoke in Jason’s voice. It was worse than the rasping, dead voice that should be coming out of its mouth. Worse by far. “Help me, Sam! You have to let me in! Get me out of this cold!” 

Hearing her husband’s voice from this creature broke her paralysis. With a shriek, she crossed the cabin, scrambled over the bed, and landed in a heap on the floor on the other side. She shoved her face into the mattress and sat there, shaking. 

“Sam, you wouldn’t leave your husband out here in this weather, would you?” the voice crooned. She could hear it working on the window, bony hands violently slamming into the window frame over and over, rattling the entire cabin. 

Sam moaned into the mattress. Her head shook back and forth; tears streaming down her face dotted the bed sheets. The sickly sweet smell of death that emanated from the thing was nauseating.

The noises ceased. It had stopped trying to force the window open. The unnatural silence returned to the cabin. Sam was crying as quietly as she could, but now that the incessant slamming had stopped, her sobs seemed amplified. She slowly registered the silence and fought to stop crying. With a great effort, she brought her breathing under control and risked a glance over the bed, sticking her head out as far as she dared. 

There was nothing on the other side of the window. A cold draft seeped into the room, blowing the thin curtain. Nothing else moved.

Then the doorknob rattled.

Sam stared in horror as it slowly rotated back and forth. There was an agonizing moment when she couldn’t remember if the door had been locked. But if Jason had gone to the outhouse… 

The door swung open, letting in the night. She felt panic rise inside herself as she stared at the empty door. The wind picked up and battered the door, making a horrible squeak as it rocked back and forth on rusty hinges, grating on Sam’s nerves. 

What was the creature doing? Maybe it couldn’t enter the cabin without her permission, like the monsters of folklore? And where the hell was Jason? She tried to push that question away; the answer wouldn’t be good. 

But it was not an easy task. The squeaking of the door drove all but the worst thoughts from her mind. She wondered if she would have the strength to get up and close it. Or was that creature waiting right outside the door, hoping for that very thing to happen? If she got close enough, it would grab her and drag her out into the frozen night. Sam whimpered at the thought. But maybe it wasn’t there. It wasn’t coming into the cabin, so maybe it had left? Decided it couldn’t get to her? But then, where did it go? 

A shadow fell across her from the window at her back. There was a CRASH as the window shattered. Jagged bits of glass covered her, falling in her hair, slicing her arms and back. At the same time, the door across the cabin slammed shut. 

Sam cried out in pain and terror. Then the scream rose in pitch and intensity as long, bony arms reached over her shoulders. With the greatest effort she had ever made, Sam launched herself off the wall towards the bed. Needles bit deep into her left shoulder, and her forward momentum dragged the creature’s talons across her back, creating deep gouges that poured blood, soaking through her clothes.

Sam was yanked to a stop. Her shirt collar rode up into her throat, choking off her scream. The creature’s powerful arm slowly reeled her in by her shirt, towards the window and certain death. Her panic, which she thought had peaked, rose even further. Sam jerked and writhed like a cat being strangled. Then with a mighty rip, the shirt tore and Sam shot forward towards the bed, scrambled across, and slid down the far side to the floor. 

The creature let out a blood-clurling shriek, angered by her escape. It was deafening this close. Then the smell of rot hit her like a sledgehammer, and this time she vomited on herself, unable to force it down.

“Let me in, Sam!” Jason’s voice demanded. It was frantic. “Let me in! I NEED TO COME IN!” That high, inhuman shriek split the night again making her mind go blank. 

“Look at me, Sam! LET ME IN!” 

Sam squeezed her eyes shut as tight as she could. “No,” she whispered. “Never.”

There was a pause. That eerie silence filled the cabin again, and the creature whispered, “Then come to me. Help me, Sam, I am so cold and hungry!

Her stomach knotted as she registered its words. Sam buried her face into the mattress, trying to ignore the abomination outside the window staring at her with a greedy expression. But the desire to look was overwhelming. She remembered her momentary glance into its dreadful eyes and longed to look into them once more, knowing that would be the last thing she ever did. 

“Yes, Sam. Look up. Look at me. Come here and you can be with him.”

That perverse need to look was all consuming. The memory of those eyes, glowing with intoxicating light, forced itself to the forefront of her mind, making the need grow with each passing second. She tried to resist, but she felt her head rising from the mattress despite herself. 

“That’s it, Sam. Look at me.”

Her eyes fluttered open and she stared across the bed at the thing, unable to look away. It crouched down, staring through the large, empty window frame. A feeble predawn light illuminated it just enough to give definition to the harsh contours of the gaunt body. Its clawed hands rested on the window frame, the left clutching the tattered remains of her shirt. Its body was covered in patches of decay and short hair or fur. Its face was dead. It was pale gray with a faint blue tint, except for the mouth and the eyes. The mouth was bright crimson where deep red blood dripped from its lips, making faint sounds as it hit the window frame. The eyes were a dim red glow that captivated her mind and made her body go limp with terror. 

The creature lowered its head towards her and softly said, “Yes, that’s it. Look into my eyes.” 

They sucked her in. There was something incredibly intriguing about them. They made it hard to think. She no longer felt cold. The sensations of vomit slowly dribbling down her chest and blood on her back no longer bothered her. She wanted to scream but nothing came out. 

“Come here, Sam,” the creature ordered. It was not Jason’s voice, not anymore. It was deeper and grating, the hoarse rasp of stones grinding together.

No! No, I won’t, she tried to scream, but could not. Instead she felt herself slowly stand up, leaning against the bed for support. She didn’t see the room around her, though the weak light of dawn was beginning to peek through the trees, faintly illuminating the world. She was transfixed by the creature’s eyes, unable to acknowledge anything else.

She walked as if in a dream, it was all so unreal. She took a slow step forward, towards the window. Then another step. In the back of her mind, she realized that it was getting brighter in the room. The realization was far away from anything, unimportant. 

“Faster!” it demanded. 

Sam took two rapid steps towards the window. In only a few more steps, she would climb into this thing’s arms and let it devour her. These thoughts, too, came from far away, in some distant part of her mind. They were like a radio playing softly in the background, easy to ignore, hardly there at all. 

“Hurry, Sam!”

Five steps to the creature. Dimly, she heard glass crack as she stepped on the remains of the window. Distant spikes of pain arose in her feet, but that was unimportant. Four steps away. The creature’s arms were eagerly outstretched, poised to grab its prize. She was powerless to stop. Only three steps to go. Then two. Its outstretched claws tore at her arm, just too far to grasp her.

Before she could take the last step, sunlight broke through the trees, streamed into the cabin, and shone on the creature. It let out a pained shriek, that inhuman sound turning her blood to ice. It made one last desperate attempt to snatch her arm but missed, then turned and fled into the woods. 

Sam stood, watching it disappear into the thick trees. She looked down and realized she was steps away from the windowsill, and her thoughts returned to her. She realized what she had been about to do and fainted. 

Later that day, a property manager found Sam bundled in all of the blankets in the middle of the floor, as far away from the shattered windows as she could get. Paramedics were called to treat the lacerations on her back and arms, and to remove the jagged bits of glass ground into her feet. They found no sign of her husband.