Jennifer Vieyra-Sanchez
Stories (2)
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The Seventh Cabin
The cabin in the woods had been abandoned for years, but one night, a candle burned in the window. Its glow was rather dim, so the four girls down by the lake took a while to notice it. Once they did, though, the warm, golden light poking through the dark trees was impossible to dismiss. For as long as the girls had been alive, and even before that, no one had gone on the small trek up to the seventh cabin around the lake. Not that there were many options for who would do such a thing since only two of the remaining six cabins were being occupied every summer. The other four were occasionally rented out, and the wealthy family who owned the cabins still hired cleaning crews and landscapers to care for them between renters. The seventh cabin, however, remained abandoned at the top of a trail that circled the lake before climbing up into the higher ground. It obviously used to be the cabin with the best view, but whatever happened there long ago made that sale point insignificant. If they thought anyone would buy it, the wealthy family would gladly sell it. They would tear it down, too, if they dared.
By Jennifer Vieyra-Sanchez4 years ago in Horror
El Chacalero
We arrived in Colima unexpectedly while we were trying to reach the beaches of Cuyutlan, a completely different city on the coast of Mexico. At first, we had no idea where we were since we’d been operating with my dad’s sense of direction and his wife’s paper map, and the darkening sky didn’t help our unease as we blindly tried to navigate a completely different country. Expectedly, my dad was being stubborn, as was in his character, so that no matter how many times my step-mom, Carmen, would beg him to just ask for directions, he would assure her that he knew where he was going. I even think that the more we tried to talk some sense into him, the more he shut us out, so during the long car ride between Mexico City and Colima, Dad built an impenetrable fortress around him. So it wasn’t until our rental car was rolling down the bumpy, stone roads of Colima with the sun setting in front of us that it must have hit him how lost we were. He grumpily, and rather reluctantly, asked if anyone had to use the bathroom, and I decided to take this one for the team and said I really had to go. I hadn’t actually felt the need right then, but if everyone declined, Dad would’ve just kept driving towards who knows where.
By Jennifer Vieyra-Sanchez4 years ago in Fiction
