Recently, my family went through some changes in financial dynamics. It wasn’t too bad, but we had to move far away for reasons I’d rather not disclose. In their rush, my parents settled for this house.
It isn’t bad at all, especially for the price — even if the reason for it is quite unsettling.
The reason for this post came this morning, while I was rummaging through the attic. I needed some materials for a project, and figured my family wouldn’t mind me borrowing some things. However, I got sidetracked once I came across something unexpected — a pendrive, hidden beneath some oddly cut rope, the other half of which I saw nowhere. Out of us three, I was the only one accustomed to using such devices, so its presence struck as unusual. Rather unwisely, I opted to plug it into my laptop to check its contents out. I know I could’ve gotten some malware, or even broken my system entirely — and my parents would’ve grounded me to infinity if such occurred —, but I was just too curious.
Fortunately, nothing insidious invaded my laptop. Unfortunately, the contents revealed something much worse.
It seems to have been written by the residence’s previous owner, which piqued my interest — and eventually distress — further.
I haven’t apprised my parents of my discovery, as I doubt they would believe me. At first, I didn’t believe it myself. I thought it was just a random scary novella he wrote. However, following some research, I’m not so sure anymore. Courtesy of the alluded to length, his passages will be split into several parts.
With context out of the way, here’s what Vincent wrote. ____________
It’s currently morning in my area, though you wouldn’t be able to distinguish it from any other phase of day. As I sit on my desk, mustering all my strength to start typing the following out, my bedroom window gives me a view outside. An overcast sky overlooks the area, clouds meshed together, blocking any visage of the sky.
They seem to converge a few miles away, above the snowy mountains that tower over this small town. Observing the irregular landscape, I have to keep reminding myself that this is a different town — a different set of mountains, a distinct labyrinth of valleys. Most of all, I must remember — these are safe.
“Perhaps writing it all out will help you get over it,” my best friend suggested last night, after noticing how badly I was trembling when he announced he and his family were having an outing there.
Out of everyone, he’s the only one with whom I have ever felt comfortable enough to share anything with over the years. But even then, he still knows much less than the truth. So many details are hidden, securely stored in my head. Actually, the entire story has remained stagnant in the depths of my mind for years now — haunting me, taunting me, terrifying me.
However, maybe, just maybe, he is right. Perhaps sharing this with you all will finally put the memory to rest. And so, I will revisit it all this single time. This will be a long day for sure.
I’m derailing, aren’t I? I guess I should just start. So, let me take you a few decades back.
In 1996, when I was around 16 years old, me and my folks used to go on yearly winter vacations with another family. My father and mother, Jonathan and Anastasia, respectively, were very good friends with the other household’s leaders, Teresa and Thomas.
From what I heard, they were all friends in highschool and their bond carried over to adulthood. As such, this conjoined trip was tradition for them. One uninterrupted even by their offspring. And given the son’s attitude, it truly was a strong bond.
Their destination of choice never changed; everytime, it was a junction of mountains and valleys. With the unchecked roads resulting from a lack of care towards the countryside, it usually took three hours to drive there. And since cars had to be left at the base, due to inclination, snow levels and the cramping amount of pine trees littering the area, we had to go an extra three hours on foot to reach our vacation residence — a wooden cabin, with no electricity, a couch, a few old mattresses and blankets and a single fireplace. During those two weeks, our diet would consist of canned edibles and bottled water.
Through the wing mirror, I watched the tire-shaped trail my dad’s old vehicle left behind as it trudged along the snow. Sometimes, it overlapped with the other family’s mark, which they had carved moments before. Flakes sauntered downwards, reminiscent of gently tilting an ice globe around.
Despite the freezing temperatures outside, I was cozy and warm, wearing a sweater, jacket and parka. For some reason, this stark contrast between observing the chilling cold while safe and warm always settled me into half-sleep — like snuggling down in a blanket by a fireplace. The shuffling from all the supplies in the small trunk even served as a replacement for rain noises. My eyes kept fluttering, and I expected to fall asleep soon.
‘A small nap wouldn’t hurt,’ I thought, already dozing off. If my slumber lasted too long, the others would awake me anyway. Sounds began fading out smoothly, as if someone was lowering their volume. The corners of my peripheral vision were darkening.
“Vincent, look ahead,” my mother’s voice broke in, throwing those warm blankets away.
Although disappointed for losing the potential rest, I obliged. Squinting, I looked through the windshield. Thomas’ much more commodious vehicle proceeded right ahead, allowing a decent view of the rear window. Nothing noteworthy was going on with him and Teresa, who were staring onwards like normal. However, their daughter, Maria, had her back to her parents and was waving at us. After a moment, she seemed to notice me staring back. Even with the distance and hindrances in vision, I could have sworn her cheeks reddened.
It didn’t last long, unfortunately, as another teenager beside her said something which seemed to embarrass her into sitting back down. I sighed, knowing it was Justin, her older brother. To be honest, I was looking forward to interacting with Maria more personally since we had begun hanging out more during that first semester. Now that I’d been reminded of Justin’s existence, multiple scenarios were running through my head; all featuring some fiasco between me and Maria, and all orchestrated by Justin.
By the time I was done reflecting, I could feel movement slowing down as we neared the parking spot. A noticeable incline lay forward, covered in white-coated woods. The layer of ground snow appeared thicker, too. This was where the valley we had been traversing ended, squashed by the elevations that had enclosed it for dozens of miles now. Contemplating how I would approach things, I decided to save more heart to heart banter for when Justin wasn’t around. Surely, an opportunity for such would arise at some point in the following two weeks.
Our motor gave a loud cry as movement ceased, as had the vehicle in front of us.
“All right, that was a long trip, but we’re here now, son,” dad remarked, turning around and patting my shoulder. Unlocking the doors, he headed over to Teresa and Thomas, who had exited their automobile as well. “How are you two doing? Had a good trip?”
Thomas chuckled. “It went well enough, aside from some mopping, but that was expected.” Both men laughed, whilst Justin groaned quite loudly from inside.
One by one, everyone else left the sheltered walls, boots leaving deep marks on the snow. The adults shook hands, hugged and all that. Me and Maria did the same; and, admittedly, I had to force myself to let go of her earlier than I would have otherwise. However, Justin just dismissed everyone, not sparing even a single word.
Maria stood beside me while our parents continued exchanging conversation. “Your brother is a bit… cranky,” I whispered to her, side-eyeing her brother, worried he’d hear me.
She smiled sheepishly. “Classic Justin. You already know how he is, don’t you?” she responded. It was true — I knew how he was. The three of us frequented the same highschool, and were even in the same year of education (Justin’s less than model behavior had gotten him held back a year; honestly, his parents seemed more surprised that it had only occurred once thus far).
“Guess you’re right, I shouldn’t be surprised,” I conceded. From the corner of my peripheral vision, Justin stared at us, that contemptuous gaze remaining. As soon as I tilted my head towards him, he diverged his eyes from us.
The adults seemed not to notice — or at least didn’t see a point in getting involved. “We can continue catching up once we’ve reached the cabin and settle down,” Thomas cut in, glancing up the path we’d take soon. “I’ll gather extra firewood myself today. Want to chat with Robert and Barbara a bit; they have been a bit silent for the last few days — I suspect their telegraph is failing again,” he elaborated, though we knew he didn’t need to. Even at that age, I was aware that Thomas was the one who called the shots. He wasn’t our leader, not in an enforced capacity, decisions simply tended to be made by him. His officer position in our small town likely had to do with this arrangement.
“Are you sure?” my mother inquired, frowning slightly. She was the smarter — or at least more attentive — one of the group. If given pieces, she was the most able to solve them. If something seemed amiss about people she was acquainted with, she could associate their character, to pinpoint exactly where sketchy situations appeared off. “Those times you fixed his stuff only happened while we were already here. Wouldn’t he have gone down to town himself if days had passed?”
“The man’s just getting too old, that’s all,” he dismissed her. “Though, I do agree he probably should move down to civilization soon. It’s not a good idea for someone old to live here.”
“He’ll probably get a heart attack and die on that shit-filled bed one of these days,” Justin chipped in with his snark — the only way he spoke. “Maybe he collected Vincent’s diarrhea from school,” he added, his eyes darting towards me.
Embarrassment prompted me to recoil, without a way of defending myself. Justin’s lips curled into a mocking smirk; tormenting me seemed to be one of the few things that brought him joy — of that I was aware of for some time now. But, in front of my parents? I never thought even he would dive that low.
Before our parents could intervene, Maria strode over to her older brother. “Who do you think you are, huh? Because last I checked, you are the one who pours body excrement out whenever you open your mouth.” She halted one feet away from him, facing him. Her words were unexpected, to say the least. Even Justin was taken aback for a moment.
Shortly after, anger replaced his momentary shock. “What the fuck did you just say to me?” he retorted, taking a step forward.
“Justin, stop,” Thomas commanded, a hand tightening on Justin’s shoulder. His son winced for a moment — presumably due to the force applied, which I could deduce was the amount an officer would use to casually prevent suspects from exiting crime scenes. To be honest, part of me daydreamed about Thomas tugging his son into his car like a convict. Of course, reality wasn’t that perfect. “We haven’t even been here for a week, yet you’re already seeking to sour things. Now, apologize to your sister.”
“Why should I?” he snapped back, glaring at her. He looked ready to try and punch her. “She had no business shoving her nose into this.” I shivered, as his intense gaze found me. “Look at that idiot, he can’t even defend himself. He needs someone else to do it for him. He deserves to be called out for what he is.”
“I said apologize,” his father reiterated, his grasp tightening further (looking back, that part still makes me wince).
At this point, either from the increasing strain on his shoulder or the realization that things might escalate too far for him, Justin yielded. “Fuck, fine! Just let go of me!”
“Tell her first.”
Turning towards Maria, he lowered his head, though his grimace never fazed. “I’m sorry,” he muttered, as if spitting. Immediately after, he tried freeing his shoulder, but Thomas held on.
“Don’t forget Vincent,” he told him, giving me a sympathetic look.
Scorching his gaze towards me, he squinted his eyes, filled with vigorous seething. My body was on the verge of entering fight or flight mode — or just flight mode, honestly. I knew my way around, so if it came to it, I would sprint off without second thought. Numbers counted down in my head, as our eyes fixed together for painfully slow moments.
Without words, Justin jerked forward, managing to catch his father off-guard. Before Thomas could react, he sprinted along the path, fading between the various trees.
“That fucking asshole,” Thomas cursed, rubbing his forehead. “No matter, he knows the path, and not even he’s stupid enough to diverge from it. He’ll get a handful first chance I get.”
Sauntering behind him, Teresa massaged her husband’s shoulders. “Calm down, honey. Let’s just enjoy the trip. Just let him go do his own thing — we’ll set him right once we’re back home.” She embraced him, pulling on his hood to expose an ear. “Maybe we could have some fun while the kids are away, eh?” she whispered into it.
“Just ignore them; they’re simply tired,” my mother addressed me, though I suspected she was aware I wasn’t that innocently unaware of what the couple was pondering. Seeing Maria’s flustered face, it was obvious she knew it too. We were 16, after all — even back then, old enough to have knowledge on bodily pleasures, even if we didn’t partake. My mother shot her own husband a vaguely judgemental look, hearing him chuckle.
“Right,” Thomas mumbled, taking his spouse’s hands, then turning around to face her. “We will all have a great time — as with every prior year —, even if he tries to bug us.” He let her go of her gloved-hands, before giving her a short kiss on the lips. “I’ll go check on Robert now, get that out of the way early so we can all relax.” His gaze moved to my father. “I assume you can take care of things while I’m gone, right?”
My father nodded, his arm wrapped around my mother. Although not too pertaining to the following events, he had a habit of doing this sort of stuff whenever Thomas and Teresa were getting close. Perhaps it was harmless jealousy? I never did solve that question
“Just be careful, all right?” Teresa told her husband, embracing him.
“I will,” he assured, gently breaking off the hug. “You be good now, dear,” he told Maria, who nodded obligingly. Bidding everyone farewell, he set off through the uncharted path among the trees. In less than a minute, he disappeared between the pines and snow.
Once he was gone, my father turned to the rest of us. “All right, you all heard him. I’m responsible for you all. Now, let’s get going. We should be settled down by night,” he said. From his choice of words, tone, and even forced sounding deepening of his voice, I could tell he was attempting to act like Thomas usually did. Nonetheless, we all agreed and began trudging along the path.
Pines littered both sides — their foliage coated in snow, which would sometimes be knocked off by gusts of wind; leaves never stayed uncovered for long, though. The trail had some turns — the casual pine blocking the path, or the odd rock formation. However, it was relatively straightforward, even if whatever indicator it supposedly had was obscured.
My father went ahead, whereas my mother and Teresa traveled behind. That left me and Maria, sandwiched between them. Something about that sibling confrontation made the current silence bothersome. Even as a non-confrontational, relatively quiet type — traits that had garnered a fair share of bullies, even if the majority had faded over the passing highschool years (most were smart enough to back off, once they began seeking someone to help them understand stuff teachers rushed over) — I found it disquieting.
Eventually, I had to say something. “You didn’t need to come to my aid, you know?” I whispered so only Maria could hear. “It was nothing I’m not used to already.”
Maria grasped my hand, as gusts of wind threatened to blow our hoods back, were they not fastened in place by the parka’s collar. Internally, I panicked. Had I insulted her? I just wanted her not to feel the need to potentially make herself her brother’s target for me. I wondered if, instead of those predictions relating to Justin, it was, in fact, I who would ruin the relationship — all for my careless choice of words.
“Don’t,” she whispered back, cutting off the train in my mind. Gazing at her, I could see the seriousness in her eyes; however, softness lay somewhere deep down, too. “He’s been a jerk for far too long. Not just here, but in highschool too, remember?” With an unusually intense stare, she urged me to think. And I nodded.
It was true. Since starting highschool, back in 7th grade, he and his girlfriend, Kate, were among those who had picked me as their target. They made fun of me and messed up my stuff — Justin, in particular, cost me a project once (I still remember, several hours crafting that, all a wet mess on the floor; that remorseless smirk on his face, as the bell for the lesson rang). It was so humiliating. Whilst other bullies either grew out of it, had a change of heart, or decided being nice to me was worth the free extra lessons, Justin never moved on. He continued, threatening to beat me if I told my parents. The school was awful at communication, so I was stuck.
I clenched my hand tightly; if I closed my eyes, perhaps I would feel that wooden handle again…
“I’m… sorry for bringing it up, but this is what I mean,” Maria explained. “I know he’s threatened us both, but he’ll only stop if we fight back.” She had a hand on my shoulder, our eyes meeting.
A whiff of steam left my lips, as I sighed. “Alright, you’re right. I’m just… scared of him, I think,” I conceded, still keeping my voice low for it not to reach the others’ ears. “Remember what he did last year?” By that last sentence, I had lowered my voice so much that even Maria, who was trudging right beside me, seemed to struggle to discern my words for a second. Or maybe it was the wind.
“I remember; that’s why we can’t let him continue.” Although she leaned closer while speaking, her voice was almost fully drowned out. She put an arm over her forehead. “I think the wind’s getting worse,” she remarked, louder now for the adults to hear. Indeed, I could see the foliage begin to shake vigorously, little mounds of snow starting to form beneath them. Flakes were falling faster and faster — the layers we were traversing would no doubt thicken considerably in the upcoming hours.
“It must be a storm,” my mother’s voice just sounded amid nature’s howling. “There was nothing about it on the forecast, though. I can’t even remember we were hit by a storm here, for that matter.” Despite how muffled her voice was, her worry still shined through. This wasn’t part of the plan.
“Don’t worry,” my father’s voice came next. “It will probably pass in a day or two, if not just a few hours.”
“What about Thomas and Justin?” Teresa asked, her voice shrill.
“Let’s reach the cabin first. Justin could have rushed there; hope he didn’t try to lock us outside. If he isn’t, we’ll wait until either he and Thomas arrive, or the storm passes. If they’re not back by then, I’ll go searching, you have my word.”
The lack of verbal objection indicated that, despite whatever deep hesitation Teresa no doubt had within, she resigned. Not that she would have had much chance, either. With how things were progressing, I wagered it would be impossible not to get lost in a few hours. Hopefully the vehicles wouldn’t malfunction. Although I was always assured they could take it, apprehension still lingered in my head every time the snow fell even a smidge thicker than usual — and now this?
Maria huddled to me, as we proceeded onwards. Whenever I stared upwards — imagined or not —, those cracks of sky between the foliage and white appeared darker and darker. The nature’s bellowing rang in my ears, louder every time. By the time I saw our wooden shelter, I was well-aware this storm would last way longer than my father’s optimistic predictions.
The door creaked, as my father pushed it open (these mountains were basically desolate all the time, and since we never kept anything of value there anyway, no one ever saw the need to put a lock). Gazing over the area, a comforting familiarity hit me. Over the years, it had not once changed. Sure, it was barren, but with the mattresses we brought, along with the firewood to light, it always became quite cozy by the end of the day.
During the next hour, everyone worked on setting things up like usual; well, except for Teresa, who I caught staring out the front window, into the swaying woods. On that front, my suspicions were proven correct. At one point, I glanced out a back window, towards the shed — so cramped even two people coming was pushing it. Its roof was wholly pale, with elevations already forming around the structure. That tight feeling from back when I conferred with Maria about Justin came back, this time sprinkled with anxiety.
As if out of my control, I ran my fingers down the wall beside me — in hindsight, maybe I was clawing at it. They felt numb, every sensation tasteless. How long was I there? Seconds? Minutes? It could have been hours, and I wouldn’t have noticed.
“Vincent,” Maria called from behind, presumably having walked over whilst I was distracted.
Embarrassed, I relaxed, turning around to face her. “Oh, Maria,” I said, unsure of what to say for a moment. “How is your mother?” I asked, assuming that would sound natural enough.
Maria sighed. “She’s still at the window. I even invited her to join me and your parents by the fire, but she declined, saying she was fine.” After a few moments, she stared past me, into the shed. Once her eyes met mine again, her face was tinged with a bit of concern. “I saw you looking at that. You seemed tense. Is everything okay?”
I ruffled my hair idly. “It’s nothing too bad. Just something that happened during last year’s school trip.” Looking at her, I sighed. “I won’t admit it to anyone else, but I hope our parents never let the school use this cabin again. Without them to monitor Justin, it was awful. A few days before… that happened to his girlfriend, they locked me in the shed.”
Maria was silent for a bit, just staring at me, no doubt startled by it. Even with the turmoil outside, this moment felt so quiet it seemed like we were suddenly transported inside a spaceship — someplace where one couldn’t hear anything, nor could anyone hear them.
I turned away from her once more. “I know, and it makes thinking back on it so much worse. Even though she was a bully, she was still found inside those same wooden walls.”
“Justin has no right to take it out on you, or anyone,” Maria said, though her voice was a little closer to its usual tone — perhaps affected by the uncomfortable topic. “But tripping and breaking your neck on the wall? That’s a horrible way to go out.”
For certain, such a random, pointless fate. Maybe not so much for the victim; stabs, drowning and burning alive were agonizing, especially when the victim realized — if they even got the chance to — that this was how their existence would close off. But for everyone else? Lines were muddier. When someone loved was murdered by another person, there was a subject to pinpoint anger and dejection at. What to do with those feelings, without a vessel to dump them on?
What would be blamed? The irregular surface she slammed into? The owners of the property, who had clearly delimited it out? The overworked teachers, whose energy had been drained over years, and so were oblivious to her sneaking into the place while they escorted their pupils around the mountain? Whoever she and her boyfriend would probably torment next?
Even if Kate’s parents had taken it to court, it likely wouldn’t have made much difference — perhaps that was why they simply mourned and nothing else. In the end, it was unanimously agreed the situation was a random accident, where no one was at fault (though I never mustered the courage to go around questioning anyone, I feel that, even if unspoken, a sizable amount might have blamed Kate herself).
That shed was pretty low on my visiting list, for sure.
“It is,” I responded, trying my best to ignore that uneasy itch. “And I don’t doubt Justin’s head somehow associates them locking me there a few days earlier with her death, making it my fault by his logic.” I had to stop myself from scoffing.
Without much else to add, Maria looked at me. “Tell you what, we’ll confront him as soon as he’s back.” She offered a handshake — as if a form of agreement — and I took it. This was a side of her I’d never seen much of before, and it was nice.
A few hours flew by without much of note, aside from the storm worsening. Thomas and Justin weren’t back yet — I could see Teresa gradually quivering more as time passed. My father commented that someone might need to go clean out snow from the front door if this escalated for much longer. Hearing that, my mother interjected, pointing out that, with how much firewood was needed to keep the cabin warm, we may need to do an excursion for it first. No one dared to discuss which dilemma they’d rather face earlier, nor did anyone confer over Thomas and Justin.
Eventually, my father decided it was late enough for a nap. He offered to stay awake, but Maria shook his shoulder and asked she be the one to do it instead. Before he could respond, she glanced at me. Getting it, I raised my arm and told him I would stay awake too. He hesitated, unsure if it was a responsible decision, but soon conceded. My parents always regarded me as mature — and comparing Thomas and Teresa’s attitude towards Maria and Justin, it was clear they trusted the former more. And so, following some advice on what to do if anything came up — most of which I could practically recite along with —, as well as some reassuring words for Teresa, the three adults got in their sleeping bags close to the fireplace.
Once their consciousnesses had receded, I turned towards Maria, about to open my mouth. However, with all the stress, as well as the grim memories we’d shared prior, I felt this wasn’t an appropriate moment. Sighing to myself, I clutched the small heart carved out of wood in my hand, putting it back in my parka’s pocket. Just in time, too, since she gazed back at me the next second.
“What do you think could be keeping them outside for so long?” she asked, her eyes diverting to the two front windows. Night had fallen, yet nature’s wrath carried on briskly. Visibility just barely extended into the woods surrounding the structure, before fading into complete obscurity.
“Talking about your dad, I’m not sure,” I responded. Had something troubling transpired? I could imagine it relating to Robert and Barbara. Uneasiness settled in. Had something come up? Given they weren’t in contact for days already, the involvement of some mechanical failure seemed feasible. We never brought any form of communication with the outside world on these trips. Signal phones that you could transport with you around reasonably were just picking up pace in developed, well-funded locations. Our town, unsurprisingly, hadn’t caught up to that yet — landlines were still prevalent. And regulations prevented Thomas from utilizing police-owned devices during his absence.
I was unsure if the increasing howling outside was fully occurring, or if it was augmented by my anxiety. Either way, I couldn’t help but quiver. To do it in front of Maria, even if she completely understood it, embarrassed me to no end. Coughing forcefully, I composed myself as best as I could.
“Your brother could very well be playing a prank on us, no matter how extreme, or stupid, it may be getting,” I added. “I wonder who he’s planning to prank, though. So far, the only thing he’s accomplishing is getting his mother worried. I swear, that shed might become a mountain of snow before he shows up…” I trailed off, an hypothesis popping into my mind. At my lack of silence, Maria appeared to register what I was thinking.
“Should we go check?” Maria inquired, though I got the impression she would be inclined to wander there no matter my response. A dilemma surged in my head.
On one hand, what about our parents? My father, particularly. He already appeared embarrassed to have us stay awake instead of himself. This was, as far as I knew, one of the few times he got to take over Thomas’ responsibilities, even if only briefly. If things went haywire, he’d be ashamed for sure.
Not to mention, remnants of that internal panic-attack still lingered. A tingling sensation still chilled me. Chilling. How cold was it right now? Why wouldn’t Justin be back by now?
“You don’t have to do it if you don’t want to,” Maria remarked understandingly, but I could feel her hidden tinge of disappointment — or maybe it was my anxiety flaring again. “I might have some trouble with clearing the door, but I can manage it on my own.”
Then again, in the event of it actually being a prank elaborated by Justin, it needed to be something big. Therefore, turmoil could soon fall down, if he wasn’t stopped. There was a good chance my next choice would affect Maria’s perception of me, too. With time running short, I resigned, nodding my head.
Since we still donned our full attire, we just grabbed a flashlight each — Maria fetched one of the shovels, too. Tip-toeing to one of two other rooms in this wooden shell — the one I’d been previously observing the shed from —, we exited through the backdoor.
The darkness was just as imposing as I had believed and then some. It seemed visibility had decreased further in those past hours. Even the shed itself, located less than 50 feet away from the main structure, faded into a barely perceivable silhouette. The wind howled louder, more violent than I’d ever bore witness to before. Foliage rattled amidst the darkness.
Suddenly Maria swerved around, darting to the door. Turning towards her, I understood why; the wind had almost thrown the half-open door against the wall beside it — one could only imagine the noise that would have produced. She’d caught it at the last moment. Although, deep down, I wasn’t sure any crash would have been audible over nature’s own melody. That thought made me quiver a bit, so I shook my head slightly.
Maria slowly shut the door, then looked back at me. Without words, we reached a silent agreement and trudged along, our boots leaving footprints behind; however, in this brewing storm, we knew not to count on their perseverance. Flickering our flashlights on, we huddled together for warmth, as the tiny beam of light gleamed in the snow.
Every few seconds, I discreetly glanced over my shoulder, in the direction of the cabin. Despite knowing, and confirming, that it was too dark to make out, I kept doing it — not that refraining from it would have dialed my apprehension back that much.
Robert and Barbara swam among the sea of my mind once more. It made no sense. Why would they risk waiting for us to come along? Especially after last year, the first time both mine and Maria’s parents didn’t come. Of all times to become reliant on someone’s yearly outing, why right after they demonstrated inconsistency for the first time? I could recall them coming to town a few times per year — including this one —, so there wasn’t any animosity towards society dissuading them from seeking help. An unpleasant sensation rose in my throat, reminiscent of vomit about to be excreted, but it clearly wasn’t physical.
I was brought back to attention when Maria shook my shoulder, urging me to look ahead. Doing so, I saw we had arrived. Standing in front of us was the small shed — or, more precisely, the mounds of snow covering it.
Realizing just how thoroughly it was coated, confusion gripped me. Although the weather was turbulent, it hadn’t quite reached such a dire level yet. Snow had risen several inches overall, sure; however, it certainly shouldn’t have nearly buried an entire structure.
“How are we going to set the door free?” Maria asked, standing right beside me, staring at the mass of snow blocking the door. The gusts of wind made hearing her difficult.
Wind.
A plan spurred in my mind. “I think I have an idea. Remember the window far up in the back?” Once Maria nodded, I proceeded. “The snow likely hasn’t gotten to it yet. And I have a feeling Justin neglected to lock the door. If we remove enough snow, we could wedge our shovels in the gap between the door and the wall, then pull. We might be able to dislodge it.”
“Alright, let’s hurry,” Maria responded.
And so, we got to work, laboriously removing chunk after chunk of snow. My arms ached, as I launched snow to the side for the tenth time. Maria seemed to be straining as well. Minutes passed. As we exhumed layers of whiteness, my thoughts revisited Robert and Barbara. Their wrinkled faces, aging, fragile bodies — that for years stumbled in motion. Undeniably, they wouldn’t fare great against the dangers of the wilderness. However, they had grown to avoid them perfectly, right? But what if there was something neither of them, nor anyone for that matter, could predict?
And now that I thought over, was Justin really so idiotic as to not leave the shed before it was nearly buried?
In my contemplation, I didn’t even realize we had removed enough snow. Snapping out of my stupor, I glanced at Maria, who gave me a confirming nod. With nature bellowing endlessly, we stuck our shovels in a gap that indeed existed, affirming my suspicions.
I paused for an instant, readying myself for something I didn’t know — or perhaps the possibility had settled in the corners of my mind already, and I just wanted to deny it with every fiber of my being. Taking a deep breath, I signaled to Maria. We both pulled, our bodies leaning far back. This lasted mere moments, before the door dislodged, scattering the remaining mound of snow on the ground layer. Both of us were knocked back, cold piercing through our clothing as we landed.
My head spun, as my entire being trembled. The current was hitting me directly, which wasn’t good. Knowing I could end up with some disease if I didn’t move out of the way, I staggered to my feet. As my vision refocused, I wished I hadn’t.
I screamed maniacally, which must have caused Maria to haul herself up beside me. She stared at the sight, putting her hands to her mouth. Unfortunately, she soon succumbed to her body’s natural reactions, hurling onto the snow.
Pressed, or seemingly crushed, against the wall was a man. His limbs crooked unnaturally, with two rugged lacerations, one on each arm. Crimson had pooled beneath them, now frozen solid. He appeared frostbitten, though it was impossible to tell if that had occurred before or after he perished. I hugged Maria tightly, wanting to spare her from staring at Robert’s face any longer; his contorted, frozen countenance of gaping mouth and wide, bulging sockets. Most of all, I desperately hoped she hadn’t noticed the chunk of flesh missing from his neck.
And nature just kept howling.