The Hollow Guest

The Hollow Guest

The fog enveloped the hills like a veil, muffling the outside world from the cabin. I had rented this place for a weekend of seclusion, a respite from the city's buzz and the burden of deadlines. The listing had promised a snug retreat, yet the images failed to convey how the forest appeared to encroach, branches scraping against the windows like fingers testing the glass. It was isolated as well—miles away from the nearest town, devoid of cell service, with a solitary dirt road winding through the trees. Perfect, I had thought. Now, as dusk faded into night, the silence felt less like tranquility and more like a breath held.

I was halfway through a glass of wine when the knock came. Three sharp raps, purposeful, resonating in the small cabin. I froze, the glass poised near my lips. No one should be out here. The road was a dead end, and I hadn’t heard a vehicle. I set the glass down, my heart racing, and moved toward the door. The peephole was ineffective, fogged over with age or dirt. Another knock, slower this time, as if the person outside was aware of my hesitation.

“Who’s there?” I called, my voice sharper than I intended.

No response. Just the wind, or something akin to it, hissing through the trees. I seized the poker from the fireplace, its weight cold and comforting, and cracked the door open. The porch light cast a feeble glow, revealing a figure standing just beyond its reach. A man, tall and slender, his face hidden beneath the brim of a hat. His coat was antiquated, long and dark, the type you would expect to see in a period drama, not on a hiker lost in the woods.

“Can I assist you?” I inquired, gripping the poker more firmly.

He remained still, silent. Then, gradually, he tilted his head, and the light illuminated his face. His skin was pale, nearly translucent, stretched tightly over sharp cheekbones. His eyes were unsettling—too large, too dark, resembling pools of ink devoid of whites. I slammed the door shut and locked it, my breath coming in ragged gasps. I waited, listening, but there were no further knocks, no footsteps. Just silence.

I reassured myself it was a prank, so