The House That Vanished at Dawn”
A group of travelers wake up to find the cabin they stayed in has disappeared, and the forest looks unfamiliar. Time bends strangely, and no path leads home.
The last thing any of them remembered clearly was the fire.
It had crackled in the stone fireplace of the cabin, filling the room with a cozy amber glow. James was sipping from a flask, Heather was curled up under a quilt, Devin snoring softly on the couch, and Rachel had just gone outside to stargaze.
Then came sleep—heavy and sudden, like someone pulling a curtain across their minds.
They woke up to silence.
The fire was gone. So was the cabin.
They were lying on the forest floor—blankets, backpacks, water bottles all scattered around them as if they had camped out in the open.
“What the hell?” Rachel whispered, rubbing her arms against the morning chill. “Where’s the cabin?”
James stood slowly, blinking against the light. “It was right here… I swear it was right here.”
The ground showed no signs of a building ever being there. No foundation. No ashes. No footprints, not even their own.
Heather was pacing in circles. “Did we sleepwalk outside? Or… did someone move us?”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Devin said, scratching his head. “We must’ve taken something. James, what was in that flask?”
“Whiskey. Just whiskey.”
They stood in a stunned circle, trying to piece together something—anything. The trees didn’t look the same. Taller. Twisted. Their bark pale and smooth, like skin stretched too tight.
Even the air felt different. Thicker.
Rachel pulled out her phone. “No signal.”
Heather checked hers too. “Same.”
They decided to walk east, the direction they’d come from yesterday—at least, they thought it was east.
But the trees didn’t end. The deeper they went, the stranger the forest became. The sun hung low in the sky, unmoving. Time refused to pass. Their shadows stretched longer with each step, as if trying to escape.
“I feel like we’re walking in circles,” Heather muttered. “That tree… I swear we passed it three times.”
“No way,” Devin said. “It’s just a forest. Trees look the same.”
But as they stared at the tree, something moved—just under the bark.
A ripple.
A pulse.
Like veins.
James stepped back, breath catching. “This place isn’t right.”
They kept walking, now quicker, speaking less. At one point, they found a rusted lantern hanging from a branch. Then a broken chair. A child’s shoe. All half-buried in moss, decaying with time—but they hadn’t been there yesterday.
Suddenly, a voice.
Rachel screamed and spun around.
“Did you hear that?” she gasped. “It sounded like… someone calling my name.”
“I heard it too,” whispered Heather. “It sounded like… my mom?”
They froze.
One by one, each of them heard it—faint voices carried on the wind. Familiar. Comforting. Wrong.
They ran.
No direction, no sense—just pure instinct.
Until they reached a clearing.
And there it was.
The cabin.
Standing tall, unburnt, untouched. Smoke curling lazily from the chimney.
“No,” James muttered. “That wasn’t here. We came this way already.”
Rachel hesitated. “Maybe… it’s a trick.”
But Devin was already walking forward. “I’m freezing. I don’t care if it’s a trap—I need warmth.”
He stepped onto the porch.
The door opened before he touched it.
A woman stood in the doorway. Pale, thin, with a blank smile stretched too wide across her face.
“Welcome back,” she said.
Devin didn’t flinch. He stepped inside.
The door slammed shut.
They waited. Five seconds. Ten. Then a scream.
Heather lunged forward, pounding on the door. “Devin!”
The scream stopped.
Silence.
Rachel grabbed James’s arm. “We have to go. Now.”
They turned and ran, back into the woods. But the trees were different again. Closer. Twisting together. Closing behind them like a mouth.
Rachel tripped. James pulled her up, but Heather was gone.
Just gone.
No footsteps. No sound.
Then—again—the clearing.
And the cabin.
Again.
Rachel sobbed. “No… please no… we just left this place.”
James stepped back. “It’s pulling us in.”
From inside, laughter.
Children laughing.
Then, Heather’s voice. “Come in. It’s okay now.”
Rachel turned and ran blindly into the trees.
James followed.
They didn’t stop until they hit a wall of thorns, tall as trees, black and sharp. Behind them, the forest whispered. Leaves rustled words.
James turned slowly. “I think… we’re not supposed to leave.”
Rachel looked up, breath shaking.
The sun was still in the same place.
Noon never came.
They say the cabin appears only to those who are already lost.
Some say it finds you.
Others say it was never a cabin at all.
Only a forest that remembers everything—except how to let go.
About the Creator
Keep reading
More stories from moeez yousafzai and writers in Horror and other communities.
Whispers in the Walls
When the Lambert family moved into the old Victorian house at the edge of town, they thought they were finally catching a break. The house had stood empty for nearly two decades, towering and crooked, its paint faded and peeling like dead skin. But the price had been right, the space more than enough for a family of four, and despite its looming presence, the house whispered promises of a fresh start.
By moeez yousafzai7 months ago in Horror
Comments (2)
This story's got me hooked. The disappearance of the cabin is wild. Reminds me of that time I got lost in the woods and everything seemed off. Creepy stuff!
This story had me hooked from the very first line. The eerie atmosphere, the sense of disorientation, and the slow unraveling of reality gave me chills. I love how time and space became unreliable — it made the fear feel more psychological than just physical. The imagery was vivid, especially the forest that “looked almost right, but not quite.” It left me with so many questions in the best way. Was it a time loop? A dream? A supernatural trap? Brilliant suspense. I’d love to read a sequel or even a prequel about the cabin’s origins!