The cabin wasn’t located anywhere on the app, or in my travel guide. I was sure I was lost in those woods for good but there I was, sitting on a comfy bed in a small room. The winds and rain flogged the outside of the cabin. The place wasn’t big, in both size and number of rooms. There was a small living room & kitchen, hallway, bathroom, and two bedrooms. I was greeted by an elderly gentleman at the door who told me the storm had cut off the electricity, but that we would square up with the bill in the morning. He promised a cheap rate for the inconvenience, but I wasn’t worried, I would have paid anything just to get out of that storm. The week I spent hiking in the mountains was fun, but I was ready for a roof over my head and warm running water.
Taking a wash rag out of my bag, I ran water over it from the sink inside my room. That’s right, there was a sink in my room. I finished washing, dropped my bag at the foot of the bed, sat on the mattress, and looked around my new sleeping quarters. There was just enough room for the bed and sink. ‘Cozy’, was what the old man called it. There was a framed picture on the wall and a window overlooking the same woods I emerged from moments ago.
Finding this cabin must mean that the small town I had looked up was close by. But this will do for tonight. The photo on the wall was very old and its frame flaked slivers of wood. The photo was of a figure standing in a door frame. It was rustic looking. Perhaps it was an ancestor that built the cabin? It could also have been a hunting cabin at one time. The photo was yellow and faded, no more detail could be seen.
The storm outside grew more intense. The roof and walls groaned from the storm’s force; boards bowing and shingles rattling. The rhythmic sound of dripping water could be heard in my room, but not seen. The window rattled slightly from the wind. I stood and walked towards it, the weight of my footsteps forcing the floorboards to bleed with sound that seemed to echo through the walls and into the rest of the cabin. The lightning shined through the brittle glass of the window as I pulled the curtain closed. Before I could begin to count the seconds between flashes of lightning, a loud crack of energy roared through the sky. We must’ve been right in the middle of the storm. I walked back to my bed and sat on the edge of the springy mattress. Leaning forward, I pushed the locking pin on the bedroom doorknob and jiggled the handle softly, testing the mechanism. The handle was fastened tightly, giving heavy resistance as tried turning the knob. I leaned back onto the bed and sighed. I didn’t feel unsafe. But I didn’t feel safe, either.
Laying back into the dusty sheets, I tried getting comfortable. I couldn’t help but think how I hadn’t heard the old man once since I came into this room and closed the door behind me. Was he fast asleep in his room? Does he live in a different house in town and rent this whole cabin out? It dawned on me that I never even asked him about the property not being on the Airbnb app. I saw the sign outside and just assumed. I shook the eerie feeling best I could. I tried not to think about him standing, still and patient, on just the other side of the bedroom door. I pulled out my phone to see if there was another place I could rent for the night, or even a hotel, but the black void of my phone’s screen informed me the battery had died. I placed the phone back in my pocket. I didn’t feel like dressing down, so I just slept in my clothes. I scanned the room one more time, then shut my eyes and just tried to relax.
A bright flash of lightning danced along the walls. It felt like only a couple of seconds had passed since closing my eyes. I was drenched in sweat. The feeling that time had passed began to set in. How many hours had I been asleep? The storm was still heavy and punishing. I tossed the covers off me, trying to cool off. Steam rolled off my clothes and into the chilling air. I was burning up, but the room was freezing. The curtains were still closed, but because of how thin they were, the flashes of lightning seeped through the faded silk, illuminating the room. I looked over at the door and it was still closed, the locking pin pushed in. The rest of the house seemed quiet. A glare from the moon reflected off the picture’s glass, creating a glowing illusion. I wasn’t sure how the moon could shine through the storm clouds. The image of a doorway, and the figure it surrounds, appeared faded still. If not more than before.
I checked my phone again, hoping it somehow magically charged, but the reflection of my hopeful face was all that stared back at me. I pulled the bed sheets up to my neck, leaving the thick winter blanket at my feet. Closing my eyes, I hoped to pass a few more hours. Maybe the storm would be done soon and I could leave a little early. I’d leave a note with my information and just pay the gentlemen later. Just as I finished that thought…
<CRASH!>
I awoke again, but this time to the sound of glass breaking. Thunder roared and I shot up in bed. The picture frame had fallen off the wall. The sides of the house shook violently as the wind relentlessly squalled. The picture frame rested on the floor, leaning against the wall. Oddly enough, the glass only shattered around the doorway in the picture where the figure stood. I looked around the room. The door and window appeared closed, as were the curtains. I looked back at the photo, and two dimly lit eyes stared back.
I decided to stay awake until sunrise. I didn’t want to sleep anymore. I listened for the elderly gentlemen to come check on the sound of the picture falling, but all I could hear was the sound of rushing rain, creaking boards, and rustling trees.
I was shaking, so cold I might as well have been outside. Though I was sweating like I had a fever. I grabbed the winter blanket and draped it over my lap. I wasn’t sure how much I had slept, but sunrise should’ve only been a few hours away. Though I wouldn’t know if this storm continues so heavily. I slowly began to warm up. Refusing to lay down again, I leaned against the cold wall of the bedroom.
I don’t even remember closing my eyes, when I woke up, sweating and hot again. This time I was lying on my side, facing the door. I felt nauseated, almost dehydrated. The storm was worse now than it had been all night. The lightning flashed through the tattered curtains, and I noticed immediately that the bedroom door is wide open. <BOOM!>
Thunder shook the cabin. Sweat dripped off my nose, but I couldn’t uncover myself. Frozen with fear, I stared into the darkness outside the door. Lightning flashed, but beyond the door frame was pitch black. In this position, I couldn’t see the window, but I could see the picture frame. I darted my eyes between the empty door and the photo every time the lightning flashed. The photo portrayed the same doorway, but the figure- was gone. The wind howled through the cracks in the walls. I didn’t remember there being visible cracks like that. My sweat-soaked fingers gripped the thick blanket tightly. Creaks, groans, and moans sang throughout the cabin. The smell of mold seeped through my blanket. I stared, wide-eyed into the black void of the hallway, and noticed… two glowing eyes, flickering subtly. Only a few inches off the ground.
My breath escaped me. The blood left my face, hands, and feet. Trying to hold still, my body shook involuntarily. Lightning lit the room as thunder tore the sky open, but the hallway remained dark. Except for the glowing eyes staring back at me. Breathing in short bursts, I tried my best not to move. I wondered if maybe the owner had a cat I didn’t know about or something- anything to make sense of this.
The creaking of wood became rhythmic, like breathing. Hollow moans came from every direction. The walls shook violently, and the window began to rattle. Claps of thunder were one after another, and lightning was so persistent that the room was lit nearly continuously. The eyes were now six feet off the ground and rising further; growing larger. As lightning struck, the outline of a figure began to take form around the eyes. They reached the top of the door frame but only continued, disappearing above. My leg twitched and reflexes kicked in; without thinking, I threw the covers off myself. <BOOM!>
I thrashed my legs out from under the covers, stepping onto the icy floor. A board creaked under the weight of my foot, and I lunged for my backpack. The eyes, now noticeably bigger, immediately lowered back into the doorway. As I grabbed the strap of my bag a large, dark, claw-like hand grasped the door frame; so hard I heard the doorjamb begin to fracture and splinter. I lunged toward the window, and with the backpack as a shield, crashed through the thin glass, landing on sticks and dirt. The only noise louder than the thunder and shattering glass was the high-pitched scream from the hallway.
I tumbled to the ground, pushed to my feet, but stopped running as soon as I had started. My eyes squinted, as the bright light from the sun washed me in warmth. I dropped my backpack and shielded my eyes until they could adjust. Sweat dripped off my clothes and shaking body. I took a couple of steps forward, crunching twigs and glass under my feet. I turned around and saw the broken window. The cabin itself was tattered, old, and worn down. It didn’t appear to be in safe standing at all. But I slept in there. I walked around for a moment. Trees and hills extended as far as I could see. Smoke in the distance and the sound of cars honking every so often. The town I was looking for was just over the hill.
I walked around to the front of the cabin. The wooden sign I had seen was still there. ‘AIRBNB’, was jokingly spray-painted on the front of the sign. The graffiti covered a withered notice from the community nearby. “Do Not Enter. Derelict. Subject to Demolition.” Police tape that once covered the entrance was scattered across the ground. What strands remained attached to the cabin now blew carelessly in the wind. I slung my backpack around my shoulder and walked back around toward the broken window and peeked inside. The room I slept in was destroyed. Sunlight was peeking through broken boards in the ceiling. A small broken sink hung off the wall by a loose pipe, dripping water steadily onto the floor. The mattress was covered with faded stains and protruding springs. A torn winter blanket lay on the floor. The bedroom door was shattered. A couple of worn pieces of wood hung only by their rusty hinges. And a picture lay on the floor, leaning against the wall. A photo of a gentleman, standing in a doorway.