Have You Heard About Cotting Cabin?

The cabin in the woods had been abandoned for years, but one night, a candle burned in the window. Anyone who lived in the nearby town would have known to stay away, but Corinne didn’t even know that the cabin was supposed to be abandoned. All she knew was that she had been stumbling around in the dark for hours now, and this was the first sign of civilization she had seen since she first got lost. When she knocked on the door, it was with a feeling of relief.

She waited on the porch for several moments, not hearing anything. No sound of approaching footsteps or voices, no critters of the night, not even the leaves rustling in the breeze. Suddenly, all the hair stood up on the back of her neck, and she had the feeling that someone was standing behind her. She whirled around, heart in her throat, but it was only an elderly woman wearing a dated, floral dress. The woman was looking at her in concern.

“Are you alright, dear?” the woman asked. “What are you doing all the way out here?”

Corinne sighed, feeling her heart slow. “I'm fine, sorry. My name is Corinne. I was out hiking with some friends, but I ended up getting lost. Do you happen to have a phone I could use? I don’t have any cell reception out here.”

“Oh, dear, of course, of course,” she said, walking past her up the porch. The door opened with a loud groan. “You come right in. We’ve got a landline in the kitchen.”

“Thank you so much,” Corinne said as she followed her through the door. “I’ll just call my friends to pick me up. What’s the name of the closest road?”

“That’ll be Pine Creek.” The door shut with a squeal. “The phone is just over there, dear,” the woman gestured.

“Thank you so much, ma’am. I’m afraid I didn’t catch your name?”

“Oh, silly me,” the old woman said, playfully thumping her forehead with her palm. “My name is Belinda Cotting.”

The cabin really was very cozy looking. There was a set of floral-patterned couches in the living area, and the fireplace was lit. Corinne was surprised by how much it lit up the interior; the cabin had looked quite dark from the outside. The kitchen was pretty basic, with a woodburning stove, an ancient white refrigerator, and, most beautiful of all, a corded phone. Corinne made a beeline for it, the floorboards protesting with every step she took. But when she picked up the receiver, there wasn’t even a dial tone.

“Um… is the phone plugged in? It doesn’t seem to be working.”

“Oh, drat,” Belinda said. “I’m sorry, dear. The electricity is always a little spotty up here. I’m sure it’ll be back on shortly. Why don’t I get a kettle on in the meanwhile? You’re looking a little worse for the wear, dear.”

Corinne sat on the couch closest to the fireplace. She hoped to warm up a bit; it had gotten quite chilly as it grew darker, but even the merrily flickering fire didn’t chase away the chill. In fact, the cabin was surprisingly cold. She stood up again, feeling restless. The whole cabin smelled of dust, but the couch seemed worse than the rest. She walked closer to the mantle to look at its sole decoration — a picture frame containing the faded photograph of a handsome young man.

“That’s my son.” Corinne jumped. She hadn’t heard Belinda come up behind her.

“He’s very handsome,” she commented.

“Oh, that’s what all the girls thought. I had to beat them off with a stick,” she laughed airily. “I was so worried when he almost married one of them. She looked a little like you actually. But he’s a good boy. He’d never leave me alone for some girl.”

Corinne forced a laugh. “Oh, is he here?”

“Well, not right now,” Belinda answered. “He always gets too antsy when I come to the cabin. Scares away all my visitors.”

“That’s too bad,” Corinne said, secretly relieved. “Do you actually mind if I use your bathroom really quick? I've been holding it for a while now.”

“Go right ahead, dear. The toilet’s right at the top of the stairs.”

Like the rest of the cabin, the stairs creaked ominously as she walked up. It looked like there was only the bathroom and one bedroom on the second floor, and the bathroom was easy to find. She was all too grateful to shut herself inside. Though it smelled strongly of mildew and dust, like the rest of the cabin, it looked clean enough. And she really did need to pee. The toilet didn’t refill after she flushed, but she figured there must be problems with the plumbing in a cabin this old. She told herself the same when the tap didn’t work, resigning herself to dirty hands.

The mirror was badly tarnished. It made her look ten times peakier than she thought she would. In fact, she looked worse and worse the longer she stared at her reflection, until it barely looked like her at all. Then the reflection moved.

“Run!” a raspy voice echoed through the small bathroom.

Corinne couldn’t prevent a small shriek from escaping her lips. She quickly fumbled for the doorknob, almost tripping over her own feet in her rush to leave the bathroom.

“Is everything alright, dear?” Belinda asked as she hurried down the stairs.

“Just scared myself a little,” she answered in a strained voice. “You know what, I might actually just try to walk back to town myself, if you could just point me to the road.”

“It’s quite a way to walk.”

“I know, but my friends must be worrying about me. Thank you so much for all your help, though,” Corinne quickly assured her, reaching for the doorknob. It turned, but the door wouldn’t move when she pulled, or even when she tried pushing instead. “I think the door is stuck.”

She turned around and froze. Belinda was nowhere to be seen. There was no longer a fire burning in the fireplace, not even coals remaining, and the entire cabin was lit only by the candle in the window. The color of the couch seemed more faded than before, and everything, even the floor, was coated in a heavy layer of dust. Corinne’s heartbeat increased in tempo, and she struggled to control her breathing.

“Are you sure you want to go, dear?” Belinda said from her blind spot. Corinne flinched away from her. She, too, looked different, blurry around the edges and more faded. Dark stains now decorated her hands and the front of her dress, and a deep cut ran the inside of her left forearm, from her wrist to her elbow. “This is the most fun I’ve had in years,” the old woman finished sadly.

“I’m pretty sure.” Corinne’s voice came out in a higher pitch than usual.

“Oh, I might just have to keep you anyway.” Belinda’s cheerful smile seemed so sinister now. “It’ll be just like the good old times. You really do remind me of her, dear.”

“O-of who?” Corinne backed away. Belinda followed. While the floor creaked with every step she took, Belinda’s footsteps were completely silent.

“That hussy that almost took my son away from me,” Belinda answered cheerfully. Corinne was cornered against the counter in the kitchen now. “I told you I had to chase all those girls away with a stick, didn’t I? Though, it was really my butcher knife that did the trick, in the end.”

She tittered gleefully, drawing a big rusty blade from a cobweb encased knife block that Corinne had overlooked on the counter. Over Belinda’s shoulder, Corinne could see a flickering shape. It was the woman she’d seen in the mirror, but in more detail than before. Her throat was marred by a gaping slash that formed a macabre necklace, black blood constantly oozing from the edges.

The woman was joined by another figure, a man with a bloody stab wound over his heart. His face, though more gaunt and pale, was a match for the picture on the mantel. While the woman looked urgent, his expression was one of sorrow.

“Run!” they hissed in tandem.

The word reverberated through her very being, and she stumbled to the side just as Belinda lunged forward. A searing pain seared through Corinne's arm where the blade caught her, but she didn't let that stop her from running. She dashed out the kitchen, trying the front door again, then back. She even tested the window, but every exit was sealed shut.

"Oh, dear, oh, dear," the insane ghost tutted from behind her, and Corinne screamed, jumping away just in time to avoid the knife. "Hold still, please," Belinda chided, advancing again.

"I thought you loved your son," Corinne blurted out desperately, stalling for time. Hot blood dripped from the slice on her arm, which throbbed incessantly with the rapid drumming of her heart. Belinda paused, cocking her head.

"Of course I love my son," the old woman answered. The other two ghosts appeared behind her again, flickering.

"Then why did you kill him, too?" Belinda's face contorted at the question.

"It was her, it was her!" the ghost shrieked, brandishing the knife again. "It was all your fault!"

Corinne's eyes widened, and she turned to run again, but it was too late. The ghost of Belinda Cotting appeared directly in front of her again, knife already raised, and then all she could do was listen to the gurgling of her breath as she choked on her own blood and clutch helplessly at the slash that newly decorated her throat.

The candle went out in the window.