The Cabin in the Woods

You travel down the long, winding, bumpy dirt road. After a few minutes, the log cabin is in site. It was built by your great-grandfather many moons ago. You step out into the cool air. The owls are hoo-ing their song. There is a piercing  scream, probably a coyote in the distance. Coyotes sure make weird noises. You open the trunk of your Ford Escape. Taking the time to pull out the duffel bag and your computer satchel, you take some time to just breathe in the cold dank air.

“Well here it goes, finally I’m far away from the city sounds and can get some peace and quite to work on my novel,” you think to yourself. You enter the cabin and flick on the light. Thank goodness the light still works. You take off your coat and hang it on the rack. You take your laptop to the writing desk in the corner of the room. You sit down turn on the computer which has an 100% charge.

Thinking of what to write next, you pause and think for a moment. “The house was eerily quiet. There is a soft breeze coming through the window, the curtains billowing softly. The killer was just outside the house picking the lock to get in,” you write. “Sarah shuttered it felt like pending doom but thought it was her imagination going wild.”

All of a sudden you hear foot steps. “Oh my god,” you panic. “Someone is in the cabin.” Slowly you turn around. There is no one there. Chills still run up and down your spine. I’m just freaking myself out, you think.

You turn back to your laptop. You have lost your train of thought. You reread what you just had written and continue. “The killer was now in the house with a motive only he knew about. He had a sly smile on his face as…”

Your laptop suddenly turns off on you. The lamp and overhead lights flicker. You hear the sound of foot steps again. You quickly spin around and there isn’t anyone there. You turn your laptop back on. It turns off immediately. The lights flicker. You hear the sounds of foot steps again. “Hey, who ever you are this isn’t funny.” You speak aloud.

Suddenly you feel hands wrapping around your neck. The lights turn off. You try to scream but you can barely choke. The strong hands are squeezing tighter. You grab your laptop to try to hit the intruder in the head. You make your swing and there is nobody there. “What the fuck?” The tightness around your neck gets stronger. “Why is this happening to me?” Your head turns into a fog. You slump against the chair. All life has drained from your body.

Then you wake up at your apartment in the city. Phew, what a horrible dream. “Maybe I should write a comedy,” you think as you try to get back to sleep.