The cabin looked cozy and calm as I pulled into the long driveway my map – a paper map – had led me to. To be fair, I was excited the map had led me anywhere out of the cold after the five hour drive. And this was the only driveway on the left from the main road for the last four miles, as Mrs Lawson had assured me. The keys to the place were in a fake “pink granite” rock amidst a grouping of natural rocks beside the front door. Took a couple of tries to open the door, as if the hinges had gone to sleep and resented being moved.
A cloud of dust hit my face as soon as I opened the door and I sneezed so hard I hurt my ribs, dammit. The people who delivered propane kept the furnace going from October to April for safety reasons, like the plumbing, I think. But holy guacamole the dust! I couldn’t wait, I had to dust down then vacuum the place. Keeping in motion would keep me warmer while the furnace kept chugging towards a livable temperature. Plus I couldn’t eat or sleep if there was any chance of mouse poop or, worse, dead mice, anywhere in the cabin.
Mrs Lawson called the cabin tiny. She must live in a mansion. The cabin had a main room, kitchen, two bathrooms, sunroom, and three bedrooms, cleaned in that order. The central hallway was the last to clean before I would declare the cabin sleep-ready. Well, the hallway itself and eight cardboard boxes stacked up at the end of it. I couldn’t avoid those boxes any longer, even though I wanted to. I planned to move them into one of the two smaller bedrooms as I worked. I meant to. But every time I looked at the boxes, something in me recoiled.
Dry dusting cloth in hand, I breathed deeply and attacked the boxes. As I was wiping down the top four, my hand hit something metallic sticking out of the end wall. My first thought was, I’d found the door to the Lawson family’s private safe! The boxes were there to hide it from intruders. I made a mental note to tell Mrs Lawson how cheap and effective a security camera is, and took the boxes to the small bedroom.
When all the boxes were gone, I got a good look at the wall they’d been stacked against. First I thought I imagined it. No food for several hours, burning a lot of calories, keeping warm and cleaning and moving stuff, it’s possible to imagine things that aren’t real, right? When my hand met cold metal again, I decided I was not hallucinating. This wasn’t a safe, it was a sized-down door. At the end of the hallway. A key hung from a sizable metal chain wrapped around the door knob. I felt like I’d discovered a doorway to an elven underground. Why else would Mrs Lawson hide the door from the rest of the world?
Of course I unlocked and opened the door. Then I passed out on the hallway carpet.
It reminded me of archaeologists getting sick as they entered long-unopened rooms. Something about the air being stale. I must have collapsed with great speed because I was pretty banged up. I didn’t even look at the room and the door was firmly closed as it had been when I first discovered it.
While cleaning up my injuries, I realized I was hurt a lot worse than the time I fell downstairs. Maybe I had a concussion because it took me a while to realize I landed on the carpet. There was no furniture anywhere near where I fell. That meant I couldn’t account for the multiple gashes and slashes. They took a long time to clean up and bandage as my hands shook more and more. How damn long was it going to take for the cabin to warm up?
My arms and legs hurt. What little I knew about passing out didn’t explain me being able to lock the door and drape the metal chain around the door knob while unconscious.
As soon as I finished, I checked the house temperature. 70 F. What the hell. Normally I’d be fine at that but with how much I was shaking, I thought I’d have to wear extra layers inside all winter long. My head throbbed, my arms and legs hurt, and I know you’re not supposed to sleep with a concussion but I was also tired. I decided to lie down and relax before getting something to eat.
That’s when I first remember seeing movement at the doorway of my bedroom. Was it a person with a blanket over their shoulders? Was it a cryptid? Was it a ghost? My imagination? No, it didn’t go away when I blinked. It was definitely there, and it was staring at me.
Then it floated toward me. That’s how I knew it was a ghost, because it floated, what else could it be? Gravity affects beings in our dimension. It doesn’t affect beings from other dimensions. So it had to be a ghost. Which is why I was surprised when it came up to me and punched me. An arm appeared out of nowhere and punched my left eye! I don’t know what came first, the pain or the fear. I sure screamed, though, and flailed my arms and legs which didn’t help at all. Every open-handed hit by the ghost resulted in painful, deep gashes. All I wanted to do was get rid of the ghost and nothing I did achieved that simple goal.
After a couple of minutes I stopped flailing and screamed, “Get away from me!” The ghost stopped hitting me and moved back about a foot. I got a good look at it. It had a head and face like a person only meaner. Instead of two arms, it had four. I don’t know to this day if it has legs or not. It spoke and I damn near fell off the bed, my body froze up so much at the sound. It said, and I’m pretty sure I am remembering this exactly, “You woke me. It’s your fault.”
It disappeared in a cloud of red smoke. I lay there for a minute or two, afraid to move and afraid to stay in the bedroom. I decided to live out of my suitcase for the remainder of the year, to have my stuff ready to go in case I decided to leave in a hurry. Then I went to the bathroom and cleaned up the new wounds.
Not sure exactly what I did for the next couple of hours but I ended up with a first aid kit on my nightstand when I went back to bed. My best guess is I got three hours of sleep before the ghost attacked again. I yelled earlier in the attack than before and, once again, it disappeared in a puff of red smoke.
While bandaging the newest wounds, it became clear I wasn’t able to handle this attacker on my own. I tried calling 911 for help. Turns out, 911 wasn’t yet established for the area. Once I felt sure I could manage the walk to the kitchen, because I felt really weak, I got the number for the local center for emergency help on a fridge magnet. It was a number I never expected to use or I would have put it into my phone. The very calm dispatcher who answered my call explained that the police didn’t come out to the Lawson cabin. They had responded to too many fake break-in calls so no. Also, without police escort, the ambulance would not respond either. I don’t know why. By the end of the short call, my stomach was in multiple knots and I struggled not to cry. All I could think was, I was trapped in a cabin with a violent ghost and no help on the way.
My nightmares were filled with claws and clouds of red smoke yet I somehow managed to sleep until just after dawn. Mrs Lawson called close to 9 a.m. while I was having a coffee and rethinking my decision to take the job. She said the police called her. I don’t know why they called her. If I had to give a possible reason, I’d say the cops called because she’s the registered owner of the cabin. They likely wanted to confirm she’d allowed someone to be in the cabin without her.
She said she had checked with her lawyer after the police called. Following his advice and for my own good, she terminated my employment for “shortage of work.” That reason would let me collect employment insurance and wouldn’t look bad when I looked for other jobs. She included a glowing letter of recommendation and paid me out for the full year even though I had to leave the cabin immediately. She insisted I call her when I was in my vehicle, leaving the driveway. She begged me to pack up my stuff and leave as quickly as possible.
Packing the car was quick and I stuck the cabin door’s key into the safety rock storage at the side of the door. Once in my car, I called Mrs Lawson who stayed on the line with me until I left the property and was on the main road. I was concerned about being alone at home for a couple of days. My parents and sister were already at Aunt Connie’s to support her and her puppy Boots at her local dog show. They wouldn’t be back until the next morning. I couldn’t shake the feeling I wasn’t alone in my car.
Two hours into the five hour drive home, I took an exit off the highway to a small diner. After I turned off the engine and before I could open my door, the ghost attacked me. I struggled to ward it off. Someone banged on my window and told me to leave or he would shoot me. There was no way I could start the engine and control the car. I was terrified of dying by ghost or by gunshot.
My fear got the better of me and I screamed at the ghost to leave me alone. One last punch to my face and the ghost vanished in a cloud of red smoke. I opened my door and someone from the diner ran over and handed me a coffee. He said he was the owner and I had to go, I was not allowed to enter the diner. I begged him to let me in and at least clean up. He held up his handgun. Despite my hands shaking, I managed to start the engine and tear out of the parking lot.
I got into my house through the back door as usual. It was a bit of a struggle to get my suitcase out of the car but it felt good to be home. Until I set everything down and heard it. The silence. The house was unnaturally quiet, a constant reminder I was alone. I hated it.
So I turned on my TV and went to my bedroom to prepare my laundry loads. As soon as I entered my bedroom, the TV volume increased dramatically. It was so loud I dropped everything and turned to run into my main room to turn it down. The ghost smacked me in the face.
My parents and sister came home shortly after, because they were concerned about me. They said the TV volume was fine when they got in the door. What shook them was the handprint of blood on the wall by the back door and the trail of blood down the stairs. I was at the end of the blood trail. My sister said Mom made sure I was breathing and all that while Dad called the ambulance.
My family listened while I explained to the hospital admitting staff how I was injured. My sister stayed with me whenever she was allowed, from admitting to release. Staff checked for and treated everything they could but I caused a few problems, like shaking so badly it was hard to draw blood.
While I was getting treated, Mom and Dad returned home. Mom called Grandma to keep her informed, then she put salt at all the window and door openings. She’s sure it will help. I think she might be humoring me but that’s okay, doing something is better than doing nothing. Mom says Dad bought another gun. He isn’t a big believer in the supernatural.
I’m home now, have been since the end of April, and the house has been almost normal. The ghost hasn’t returned but Autumn is here. I’m afraid the ghost only shows up in cold weather and I’m afraid of meeting it again. That’s why I posted here. I wanted to get it off my chest and see if anyone else can relate or even offer suggestions on how to make sure the ghost doesn’t return.