It is early evening, and I am staying at my parent’s cabin. The woods are snowy and clouds make it dark so the patio light is on as I read. Without warning the light above me flickers quickly and doesn’t stop. That isn’t too strange, we lose electricity a lot out here, so I just go turn the light off and go back to reading.

For anyone to understand my current situation I have to explain that I am in the middle of nowhere. That isn’t an exaggeration, my parents bought this cabin for that exact reason. No neighbors for miles, just a seemingly endless clutter of trees. I never thought about how closely it resembled every scary movie set in the woods. I didn’t even give it a thought until now.

Nothing has happened but I suddenly get the sense that I should look up. A chill creeps up my spine as I get the feeling that someone is watching me. To be honest I probably am being watched. These woods are filled with creatures. I shrug off the strangeness but go inside anyway. The rest of the day I hear strange noises coming from outside but I just tell myself I’m being paranoid. My family and I have been coming to this cabin for years and nothing has happened. Still I have to admit that I have never felt this way.

It’s around five o’clock when I become very uneasy. I’m in the middle of nowhere and yet someone is undeniably knocking on my door. I grab the cane that rested beside the door before checking the windows. I stay out of sight, cautiously watching for whoever knocked but no one is there. Careful to stay hidden by the curtain, I look at the area around the door. No footprints anywhere to be seen.

Now I know I am just freaking out over nothing, that is obvious, so why can’t I talk my mind into calming down.

Someone is at the window.

The hair on the back of my neck raises and I turn quickly to see nothing there. My grip on the cane tightens as I see the condensation on the glass like someone was just breathing on it. The only thing I can think to do is to close the curtains, and double check the locks before returning to the couch. After that it’s difficult to focus on my book when my mind keeps wandering back to what could have knocked on my door.

It is the middle of winter and snow covers the ground, there would have been tracks left behind. “Chill out,” I say to myself, “You go home tomorrow, so just barricade inside until then. Problem solved.” Except it isn’t solved. I still have to sleep while knowing that someone was outside of my cabin clearly trying to mess with me. “Or maybe I’ll go home today.” I get up and begin to pack my things.

Only a third of the way through I hear another knock. This time my instincts are screaming to never open that door again, and this wasn’t the time to doubt my own intuition. While I decided against opening the door, I'm not about to just let it go. I creep to the window again, only this time I have a kitchen knife instead of the simple cane. With one finger I push the curtains aside and peer outside. Again there is no one waiting there.

I lay the knife down on the corner table next to the door just in case. Next thing I do is go online and see if anyone built a house nearby. I scroll through website after website, looking for any signs of a family moving here with a kid that likes to prank people. A similar search pops up about this forest so I click on it to see if it has anything and my blood freezes. The headline says that three people have gone missing in this forest within the past year, only one was found and she doesn’t remember what happened after she answered the door.

It’s getting late and I’m not too fond of going outside now, especially after dark. I finished packing and am planning to make a break for my car when the knock comes again. It’s louder this time, like whoever it is became suddenly impatient, to me it seems more threatening. I glance at the knife at the door but don’t even want to go near it. I just go back to the kitchen and get another, this time it is larger. My mind argues with itself about whether I should go to the window or not, but the deciding factor is when the knocking turns to pounding and it is most definitely not friendly.

I toss my bag over my shoulder and cradle my phone. Who would do this? It is below freezing outside so whoever is doing this must be beyond cold. The pounding stops and somehow that seems worse because after all their effort it doesn't seem likely for them to give up now. I regret that thought because the quiet is much better than what comes next.

A slow, rhythmic sort of tapping comes from the window which is so much worse than the door. It’s almost like someone with long nails is just drumming their fingers on the glass. The only thing that makes me feel better is that whoever was out there couldn’t see me through the blackout curtains. That keeps happening until the sound just stops, then it begins again a little bit further from the door. I dial nine-one-one and place the phone to my ear but after there is no ring I remember that there is no cell service.

I flip my phone in my hand uselessly as I think of what to do. The doors are all locked, and most of the windows can’t even be opened.

The natural lighting in the room has definitely gotten darker so I glance at the stained glass window behind the kitchen sink. It was almost seven now and I decided to keep the lights off. Maybe whoever it is will think no one is home. The darker it gets the more bolder the tapping becomes so I flip on a light. They must be able to see it through the kitchen window because it slows down a bit.

I hear it move a little further down the wall but this time the taps just continue, slowly inching their way to the kitchen window. My worries grow as I stare at the stained glass, there are no curtains to cover the window. When they get there, they will be able to see me, but somehow the more terrifying thought is I will be able to see them.

I expect to see a person but instead I just see a long skinny arm reaching down, drumming the fingers against the glass, like whoever is there is sitting on the roof. I checked the connection again, but nothing has changed. I have decided to send a text to my mom with a short explanation so that if there is some short connection to the cell service, someone will know to call the police. As I click send I watch the blue bar across the top of the screen and then wait.

Maybe there is someway it will send upstairs. I start up the stairs and realize a moment too late that I forgot about these windows. They are closed and locked but the blinds are wide open which comes to my attention as there is a flash of movement. I spin to see a silhouette outside of the window. In the darkness I can see its arm raise and the noise starts again quickly and much harder to the point that the glass seems liable to break. I quickly flip on the light and freeze.

The tapping slows just as brightness fills the room. I know what is messing with me is right there, watching me now. Still, I can’t bring myself to turn around. Something in my mind knows even now that this isn’t normal, whatever is there I won’t be able to forget. I know I have to face it though, even if nothing bad actually happens, I could help find the person responsible for the missing people. Slowly I turned, my eyes fixed forward to look at what my mind was screaming at me to ignore.

I go still, like whatever that is can’t see me as long as I don’t move. It isn’t what I expected at all. It’s short and extremely skinny like it is severely malnourished. The hand is still held up, against the glass, tapping like it has been for the past hour. Except now, everything is different because the way it is staring at me, longingly. Its eyes are double the size of golf balls and its mouth is stretched too far across its round face in a neutral expression, in fact it seems confused.

Now that I can see it the taps now seem unsure when the light is on. Maybe it really can’t see me, I hope that somehow the light blinds it the way it seems to. I glance at my phone to see the message has been sent and almost begin calling nine-one-one but stop as the lights flicker slightly, the bars go dead again. The lights keep flickering and I back up.

The confusion leaves its eyes every time the lights begin to fail. I could see the exact moment that it sees me because its lips stretch into a thin line across its face slowly revealing a row of rotted teeth that all come to a point.

It seems like it could only see me when it was dark, like brightness made it blind. The light became less frequent and it is obvious that whatever is sitting outside my window likes that. With every flash of light I watch as it curls its clawed hand into a fist and begins pounding on the window. It keeps getting harder and I back up until my back hits the wall. Its smile gets wider as I hold the knife closely and the flashes of darkness last much longer than the light.

The single light in the room keeps flickering, balanced between on and off, making my worries grow with every flash of darkness. Sweat drips down my face as I pray for the electricity to stay because right now I see that as my only way to survive. Despite my wishes I can see as the last bit of power is used and the entire room goes dark.

I can’t see the thing anymore but I can’t get the face out of my mind. The pounding on the glass is dangerously hard and I am just waiting now for something more to happen. That’s when I hear it. It’s quiet compared to the other noises but the glass is cracking. Even in the darkness I can see the cracks spreading across the window in a spider web pattern. The knocking stops as the creature traces a finger along the lines.

It places its pointer finger on the center and presses against the origin of the cracks as if testing the strength of it. It switches back to a fist and pounds even harder until the glass shatters inward. I scream as it steps inside. Leaping for my night stand I search through the drawers while I hear its breathing draw near. I find a small flashlight and point it at the creature making it stop. This time it only takes a moment for it to continue, using its sense of smell and moving quickly towards me. I raise the kitchen knife as it walks, hunched over, with a clear sense of determination. I prepare for a fight as it picks up speed with its mouth open.

***

The cabin is a mess as the pair of officers walk through the door. After minutes of knocking they decided it would be best to check in to see how she is doing. The door was locked but when they saw a shattered window upstairs they took more extreme measures to get inside. They search the house calling out the girl’s name but hear nothing. 

Once they get upstairs the scene that awaited shocks them. The room looks like a tornado went through it with the pillows nearly torn to shreds and the wood floor has scratches all over. The worst part is the dark red footprints leading back to the window with a trail following it.

Stepping over, careful not to disturb the scene, they search for any evidence of what might have happened.

“What is that?” One of them asks while looking out the window.

The other one approaches and they both look into a tree not too far into the woods. It is high up where the limbs look too unsteady to climb. They have to go outside to see what it is and when they recognize it their confusion rises. A shoulder bag that is torn to shreds is in the branches like someone put it in a shredder then stabbed it on the branch multiple times. They look back at each other in understanding that they will not find the girl here.