Day 1: Arrival
The snow fell in thick, heavy flakes, covering the mountain
road in a pristine white blanket. The headlights of the old van sliced through
the fog and the darkness, revealing the winding path ahead, but just barely.
Behind the wheel sat Megan, gripping the steering wheel tightly, her
knuckles turning white with tension. Her breath fogged the air inside the van,
though the heater was blasting as hard as it could go.
"Are we sure this is the right way?" Tom,
her brother, leaned forward from the backseat, squinting at the GPS on Megan's
phone. “It says the cabin is just a few more miles, but...”
“Yeah, the directions said it’s remote,” Megan replied, eyes
fixed on the road. “We’ll be fine. It’s supposed to be like… off the grid.”
From the passenger seat, Lisa, Megan’s best friend,
shivered and pulled her coat tighter. "Off the grid? More like off the
map. We haven’t seen another car for hours."
Tom chuckled, leaning back against the seat. "Come on,
it’s an adventure. We all agreed to this."
Nate, Tom’s friend from college, sat in the far back,
tapping away on his phone. “I’m just excited for the quiet, honestly. A week
away from the city. No phones, no work, no noise.”
“Except for the ghost stories,” Lisa teased, grinning at
Nate. “A cabin in the middle of nowhere during Christmas? It’s basically the
beginning of every horror movie ever made.”
Megan laughed, though there was a slight edge to it. “It’ll
be fine. A week of snow, fires, and Christmas cheer. We’ll come back relaxed
and refreshed.”
The van finally crested the last hill, and the cabin came
into view. Nestled deep in the woods, it looked quaint and inviting, with smoke
curling from the chimney and snow-draped pine trees surrounding it. The windows
glowed warmly against the night, a stark contrast to the eerie silence of the
forest around it.
“See? Cozy as hell,” Tom said, clapping Nate on the shoulder
as they unloaded the bags. “I told you this place would be perfect.”
They trudged through the snow, each step sinking deep into
the fresh powder. Megan fumbled with the keys, her hands shaking from the cold,
before finally unlocking the door. The group stepped inside, shaking off the
chill.
The interior was even more charming than they expected.
Wooden beams crisscrossed the ceiling, and a massive stone fireplace dominated
one wall, already crackling with a warm fire. The cabin smelled of pine and
cedar, with the faintest hint of cinnamon. It was everything they had hoped
for.
“This is amazing,” Lisa said, her voice hushed. She wandered
over to the fireplace, warming her hands. "Whoever owns this place knows
how to do Christmas right."
Megan dropped the keys on the counter and surveyed the
space. It was perfect. Exactly what they needed after the chaos of the city. No
neighbors. No noise. Just them and the mountains.
And then… a sound.
A faint, almost imperceptible tapping came from the front
door.
Tom paused, his arms halfway into a duffel bag as he
unpacked. "Did someone knock?"
“No one’s out there,” Megan said, frowning. She walked to
the door, pulling it open just a crack. The cold rushed in, but there was no
one on the porch. Just the snow swirling in the wind.
But there was something there. Something new.
A small Christmas stocking hung on the door, tied
with a simple red ribbon. It wasn’t there when they arrived.
Megan's heart skipped a beat. “Who put this here?”
Tom came up behind her, staring at the stocking. It was
small, velvet, and deep red, with white fur trim. The kind you might hang on a
mantelpiece. Megan slowly reached out and untied the ribbon, holding it up for
the others to see.
Lisa walked over, peering at it. “It’s cute. Probably just
something the owners left for guests. Christmas spirit, you know?”
Megan’s fingers brushed the surface of the stocking. It felt
strangely cold. Too cold, almost like it had been dipped in ice water. “Maybe.
But... this wasn’t here when we came in, was it?”
“No,” Tom said. “But it’s just a stocking. Let’s not get
weird about it.” He shrugged it off and returned to unpacking.
Still, something about it unsettled Megan. She hung it by
the fireplace, but even after it was out of her hands, she couldn't shake the
feeling that something was… wrong.
The night passed in relative peace. They unpacked their
things, settled in, and after a hearty dinner of soup and bread, they huddled
around the fireplace, sipping hot cocoa and trading stories. The mood was
light, even cheerful.
But Megan couldn’t stop glancing at the stocking. Every time
she looked at it, she expected to see something change, as if it were watching
them, waiting.
It wasn’t until later, when the fire had burned low and
everyone was getting ready for bed, that she noticed the faint smell. A sickly
sweet scent that seemed out of place among the pine and cedar. She thought
maybe it was just the firewood.
Then, just as they were all heading upstairs to bed, Nate
froze at the foot of the stairs. “Did anyone hear that?”
The others stopped, listening.
There it was again.
A faint scratching sound, coming from the front door. Slow,
deliberate, like something trying to get in. It was soft, almost rhythmic, like
claws gently dragging across the wood.
“What the hell?” Tom muttered, heading back down the stairs.
“Maybe it’s an animal.”
Megan’s stomach twisted. The same uneasy feeling from
earlier crept back in full force.
Tom opened the door, but again, there was no one there. Just
snow and darkness. But something had changed. Something new was sitting on the
porch—a small package, wrapped in green paper with a gold bow.
“Is this some kind of joke?” Lisa whispered, her eyes wide.
Tom bent down to pick up the package. It was light, almost
weightless. He looked at the others and then slowly tore the wrapping open.
Inside was a small bell. It looked old, and tarnished, with a
strange symbol engraved on the side.
“What’s it for?” Nate asked, his voice uneasy.
“I don’t know.” Tom held it up, shaking it lightly. The
sound that came from it was wrong. It was hollow, tiny, but it echoed in the
room in a way that sent shivers down their spines.
Megan’s pulse quickened as she stepped back. "This...
this wasn’t here before, either. There’s something off about this place."
Tom shrugged. “Probably just a weird local tradition.
Christmas spirit, right?”
But Megan wasn’t so sure. As they turned in for the night,
the bell and stocking sat by the fireplace, casting long, eerie shadows in the
flickering firelight. Megan lay awake in bed, her heart pounding, that strange,
sickly sweet smell still lingering in the air.
The last thing she heard before sleep finally claimed her
was the faint sound of the bell, ringing somewhere in the dark.
And then, silence.
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