The Cabin
She looks at me.
The door to the cabin creaks open, a gaping hole threatening to swallow us up. Ever so carefully, I make my way up the stairs and face the dilapidated interior, my little sister following closely. No one had lived here for a good 20 years, cobwebs and dust dotting the place.
As night fell, we tried to make ourselves as comfortable as possible on the decayed wooden floor. Life on the run was hard sometimes, especially in the woods. There was the danger of running out of food, water, or shelter, but most importantly, encountering dangerous animals.
Just then, a wolf howls in the distance, as if to prove my point, making me shudder. Next to me, my sister shifts closer, fear radiating off of her.
“It’s going to be all right,” I whisper like I do every night.
Outside, the wind howls and small animals scurry by. Weird. It’s usually dead silent at night. Eh, it’s just an incoming storm. However, just as I am drifting off to sleep, I hear a noise. It’s probably some mouse. I bet there are lots of them in this place. Then, suddenly, my sister jolts up, a look of pure terror crossing her face. Slowly, I look towards what caused her such fear. That’s no mouse.
A dark, hooded figure stands in the doorway holding an axe in one hand. Horrified, my sister and I slowly start backing up, forgetting any intentions of sleeping. The silhouette begins to make its way to us, raising the axe as it does so.
My sister starts whimpering, “No, no, no, no. Please not me. Don’t do it, I’m begging you.” Confused, I watch as the figure raises his axe over his head with both hands, prepared to strike. But my sister doesn’t scream.
She looks at me.
