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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Horror  |  House: Booksie Classic


Submitted: October 03, 2017

A A A | A A A

Submitted: October 03, 2017





There was a crisp chill in the air. The room I resided  was filled with the sounds of buckling down, soft creaking splintered around me.  My only light source was the fire in the fireplace. Its light dancing a tango with the shadows. This forsaken cabin was my last line of defense, my prey became my hunter. My eyes began to wander around my place of refuge, to keep my mind somewhat at peace in this crushing movement. The windows were covered in the thickness of the snow, rushing and whirling. The walls splintered to hell and back, many of them being busted in half. The broken latches on the door weren’t going to be my real problem in this cabin. The roof is missing some support beams, some snow flakes are pouring through from the storm. The furniture was covered in a layer of black frozen dust. The sound of the howling wind began to grow louder with the moon, as it if it was joined by other members of its subzero pack. The shadows dancing began to grow farther and farther as the moonlight began to fade away from the windows. I put my hand in my pocket to find some other source of warmth, but it seemed to be a troubling task as I was caught with a great case of the nerves. I felt the cold, round, metallic object of my only valuable. My father's pocket watch, I liberate it out from its cloth prison. I began to exam the watch as another way to keep my mind at ease. The carvings of rose thorns were around the border of the watches protective cover. The crest of a lion was in the middle of the cover, in mid roar, to show the strength of our family. The chain lost a lot of its gold layer to real it’s true sullied red and orange chain.  The button to unlatch the cover was covered in years of collected oil. It reminds me the days of when my father would be working on another invention of his and he would pull out the watch to check the time, his hands stained in black from a hard day's work. It isn't fair that he was taken from this world. All I have left of my the memory of my parents is this watch. I click the black button to view the time. The hands of the clock point only towards the numeral Twelve.  


It was Midnight.


The storm began to howl louder, It was time. I carefully put my watch back into its cloth prison. As I reach over to pick up my sword, a loud sound thump above me. A small patch of snow fell over my fire, the combination of ice and fire hissing, creating a small cloud of steam. I grab my sword and quietly move behind one of the couches. An even larger pile of snow fell upon the fire from the hole right above. The lights and shadows no longer danced, the army of shadows began to march in, storming any ownership the light once had. The group howling outside began to dissipate, just as the light had backed into the stone edge of the fireplace. Then, the darkness won the war, and the howling outside, ceased.




Silence from the light, and from the howling. All other sounds amplified. The creaking began to sound more organized than just random cabin sounds. I reached into my pocket and clenched my watch, to find any form of comfort. The grip on my sword began to tighten, harder, and harder until it felt my flesh like my flesh melded with my weapon. A large thump landed in the snow outside, the soft crunching of snow made its way to the door. Its heavy breathing moving like a snake of sound towards the door, slithering, moving ever closer.  The moonlight began to shine through the windows. I attempt to peek over the couch to see if it stood in front of the door. When I notice the shadows around the window behind me had left a groove. The figure of a person. Then I heard it, it’s muffled breathing, right behind me. A terrible fear crawled into my heart and became a permanent resident. I slowly turn my head, my neck stiffening from the movements. My gaze meets to see its eyes, pure white, lifeless. They were staring directly at me, examining me, sensing my movement, judging my soul. I quickly turn and raise my sword in a defensive position, my hand shaking, I was trying to prepare to fight back but my legs, they felt like stones drifting through space. It turned its head and made its way through the to the door. The sound of the breathing and the moving snaking its way again towards the door.


My eyes were fixed at the door, unmoving. The light of the moon my only guide in the this valley of shadows. The nob on the door began to turn slowly, the creaking of the door sounded like nails on the chalkboard of my heart. Its lumbering figure slowly moved forward, its eyes peering through the small glass panes of the door, fixed only on me. The sound it made, almost like a soft whimpering crying. I point my sword forward, its tip shaking all over, my hands could not stay straight. Tears clouded my eyes, my hand clenched harder on the watch. My voice uprooted the silence.





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