The first day of summer was supposed to be perfect. James had planned a getaway to the secluded cabin for weeks, imagining the fresh mountain air and the serene lake as a remedy for the recent tension between him and Rebecca. They arrived just before sunset, the cabin casting long shadows over the thick forest surrounding them.
The second day, the mood shifted. Rebecca, still distant from their argument, wandered off into the woods, leaving James to stew in his guilt. By midday, she hadn’t returned. Panic gnawed at James as he traced her steps, calling her name until his voice grew hoarse. The forest seemed to swallow his pleas, responding only with the rustle of leaves and distant bird calls.
On the third day, the police arrived. James, exhausted and desperate, recounted the events to the officers, who promised to search the area thoroughly. As dusk fell, one of the officers found Rebecca’s scarf near a dilapidated shack hidden deep in the woods. The shack reeked of decay, and James’s heart pounded as they approached. Inside, they found strange symbols carved into the walls and a single, blood-stained photograph of Rebecca.
The fourth day brought more dread. The local authorities expanded their search, combing through the dense forest and interviewing anyone who might have seen something. James, barely able to sleep, sat in the cabin, staring at the photograph. The symbols haunted him, their meaning just out of reach. He spent hours online, trying to decipher them, but found nothing that made sense.
On the fifth day, James ventured back into the woods, driven by a mix of hope and desperation. He retraced his steps to the shack, determined to find more clues. As he approached, the air grew colder, and an unnatural silence fell. Inside, he found a trapdoor hidden beneath a rotting rug. Trembling, he opened it to reveal a staircase descending into darkness.
He descended, the air growing colder with each step. At the bottom, a large underground chamber awaited. In the center was a stone altar, and chained to it was Rebecca, unconscious but alive. Relief flooded over James, but it was short-lived. Emerging from the shadows was a figure draped in tattered robes, its face hidden beneath a hood.
James demanded to know what was happening, but the figure merely raised a bony hand, chanting in a guttural language. The symbols on the walls began to glow, and the room shook violently. James rushed to Rebecca, trying to free her, but the chains wouldn’t budge.
The sixth day dawned with James trapped, unable to leave the chamber. The figure, a malevolent cultist, revealed their twisted plan: to use Rebecca as a vessel for an ancient, vengeful spirit. James’s pleas fell on deaf ears. As the ritual reached its climax, James felt a surge of determination. He grabbed a nearby stone and hurled it at the cultist, breaking their concentration.
Rebecca stirred, and together, they managed to break her chains. They fled up the stairs, the cultist’s enraged cries echoing behind them. Bursting out of the shack, they ran through the forest, not stopping until they reached the cabin.
On the seventh day, James and Rebecca sat in the cabin, exhausted but safe. The authorities, skeptical of their story, found no evidence of the shack or the cultist. The forest had swallowed it whole, leaving only a mystery in its place.
James and Rebecca knew the truth, though. They had escaped something ancient and evil, their bond stronger for it. They vowed never to return to the cabin, leaving the horrors of that week behind them. But the memory of those dark woods and the malevolent cultist lingered, a shadow over their newfound peace.
Gareth Ellis - Author 