It was just supposed to be a weekend getaway with my friends. We rented a cabin in the woods, far away from civilization. We wanted to spend some time away from our busy lives and enjoy the peace and quiet of nature.
The first night was uneventful. We cooked dinner, drank some beers, and played cards until late at night. But on the second night, things started to get weird.
We were all sitting around the fireplace, telling spooky stories, when we heard a loud noise outside. It sounded like something was scratching at the door. We all froze, not sure what to do. After a few seconds, the noise stopped, and we decided to go check it out.
As we opened the door, we saw a figure running away into the woods. It was too dark to see who or what it was, but we all felt a chill run down our spines. We locked the door and went back inside, hoping it was just a prankster.
But the night was far from over. We heard more noises outside, and the feeling of being watched grew stronger with each passing minute. We tried to ignore it and went to bed, hoping that the morning would bring some answers.
But the morning only made things worse. We woke up to find that all of our food was gone. The fridge and pantry were completely empty, as if someone had come in during the night and stolen everything. We searched the cabin, but there was no sign of forced entry. We were all freaked out and decided to leave as soon as possible.
But before we could, we heard a knocking at the door. It was a man we had never seen before, asking if we needed any help. He seemed friendly enough, but we were all too scared to let him in. We told him that we were fine and that he should leave. He shrugged and walked away.
We packed our bags and left the cabin, relieved to be getting away from whatever was happening there. But as we drove down the road, we saw the same man walking along the side of the road. We slowed down to ask him if he needed a ride, but as he turned to face us, we saw that his face was covered in blood.
We sped away, not stopping until we were back in civilization. We reported everything to the police, but they never found any evidence of what had happened. It was as if the whole weekend had been a nightmare.
To this day, I still have nightmares about that cabin in the woods. I don’t know what happened there, and I’m not sure I want to find out. All I know is that I will never go back there again.
Years later, I found myself driving past the same area where the cabin was located. I was older and wiser now, and I had always wanted to go back and find out what had happened.
As I drove along the winding roads, I could feel a sense of unease growing within me. The woods looked different now, darker and more ominous than I remembered. I wondered if I was making a mistake, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that I needed to go back.
When I finally arrived at the cabin, I found that it was abandoned and overgrown. The door hung off its hinges, and the windows were boarded up. I cautiously entered the cabin, half-expecting to find the same horrors that had haunted me for years.
But as I walked through the empty rooms, I found nothing out of the ordinary. There were no signs of forced entry or violence. It was as if the cabin had been abandoned long before our fateful weekend.
As I turned to leave, I heard a sound from outside. It was the sound of footsteps, slow and deliberate. I froze, wondering if it was my imagination or what.
I cautiously walked to the door and peeked outside, but there was nobody there. I shrugged it off and walked back inside, thinking that it was just an animal in the woods.
But the unease didn’t leave me. I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was being watched. Every creak and rustle in the old cabin made me jump. I decided to leave before things got any worse.
As I was packing up my things, I found a journal hidden in a drawer. It was old and weathered, and the pages were yellow with age. I opened it up and began to read.
The journal belonged to the previous owner of the cabin, a man named John. He had bought the cabin as a vacation home but had quickly become obsessed with it. He wrote about how he had spent all of his time there, trying to uncover its secrets.
As I read through the pages, I began to realize that something was wrong. John’s writing became increasingly erratic and paranoid. He wrote about hearing strange noises in the woods and feeling like he was being watched. He wrote about seeing shadowy figures in the night and feeling like he was going insane.
The final entry in the journal was dated a year before our weekend getaway. John had written about a breakthrough he had made in his search for the cabin’s secrets. He had found a hidden room in the basement, and he was convinced that it held the key to everything.
But the next page was blank. There was no explanation of what had happened to John, or why the cabin had been abandoned.
As I read through the journal, the feeling of being watched grew stronger. I could hear footsteps outside again, this time coming closer to the cabin. I panicked and ran outside, but there was nobody there.
That’s when I saw it. The hidden door in the basement. It was covered in cobwebs and looked like it hadn’t been opened in years. But I knew I had to see what was inside.
I grabbed a flashlight and made my way down the creaky stairs. The air was damp and musty, and the only sound was the sound of my own footsteps. As I reached the bottom, I saw the door.
I pushed it open and stepped inside, the flashlight casting eerie shadows on the walls. And that’s when I saw it. The room was filled with strange symbols and markings, drawn in blood on the walls and floor.
As I looked closer, I realized that the symbols were ancient and otherworldly. They were not of this world. And that’s when I heard the footsteps again, louder and closer than ever before.
I turned to run, but I was too late. A hand grabbed me from behind and pulled me into the darkness. And as I fell, I realized that I had made a mistake. I should have never come back to that cabin in the woods.