The Warning

My parents and I came to my grandparent’s cabin for a few days of relaxation and release from the city life. It was a small log house with a fireplace and lake in the back, and a small barnyard about 10 yards away with a certain ‘cozy’ feeling to it. It hadn’t been used in years, however. I was unpacking my small duffel bag when my father told me to get some firewood from the barn. This was an odd request, considering the wood in there was almost certainly old and unsuitable for lighting. I figured we would go into the town later that night to get some. However, I went to look for the wood.

About halfway between the house and the barn, it started to get cold — really cold — and the air began to grow thinner. This was strange since it was the height of summer. I opened the old wooden barn door and cringed in disgust as it creaked louder than I could hear the animals in the trees around me. It was dark, and like an old horror movie cliché, the light wasn’t working. I grabbed the old wood in it’s thin paper packaging and bolted back to the door. About halfway through opening it again, I heard noises coming from below the wooden floorboards.

I didn’t pay it any mind at first, but they began to grow louder and louder, resembling groaning, like people were being churned down there, over and over. I gave into my curiousity and looked down, to which I saw a large area rug, covering a majority of the barn floor. Though every nerve in my body told me not to, I lifted the rug to reveal a latched door underneath, leading down into some sort of basement or cellar. I never knew this was here. I opened the latch and proceeded down the stairs, the air growing colder. When I arrived at the bottom, my heart dropped into my abdomen, and my jaw dropped, as I saw something that would terrify the bravest of people. It was a long, decaying walkway with…lit torches? I was certain no one had been to the cabin in years, so I was baffled by this sight. I, for whatever reason my mind could think of, proceeded down the walkway. It was lined with wooden supports and torches about every 5 feet, still lit. I started to breathe louder and louder. As I proceeded, the walkway began to split, and I eventually got lost in a nexus of underground tunnels. For some reason, I didn’t want to turn back. I was mesmerized by the thought of what could be down here.

I began to hear the noises again. They were louder and clearer now. They were men, hundreds by the sound of it, groaning in what sounded like pain. I heard more things as I walked deeper into the tunnels, gripping the firewood with both hands, almost as if holding a weapon. Then I began to hear it — footsteps, coming from behind me. I turned and screamed, nothing. As I turned, though, the footsteps shifted to my other side, behind me again. I turned again. Nothing. There was no one there with me, but I know I was hearing footsteps, loud and fast, as if someone was running at me. I was hearing them over and over, and began to run. I ran and ran, not knowing which direction I was going or where I came from. I began to see things in a blur as I ran and looked down the different directions of the tunnels, people running beside me, but not as a threat, more as if they were running from something too. The groaning was banging my ear drums now, it sounded as if I was in the middle of wherever it was coming from. The groaning, footsteps, I even heard a type of cackling laughter, all overlapping eachother, as I ran and ran until I couldn’t breathe, and I was still running. The goosebumps began to form over my body as I saw visions of things, horrible things happening to the ‘people’ running alongside me. They were vanishing, one by one, until I was the only one left running. The groans began to turn into screams. But something were off about these screams. They sounded too close, even closer than the groans before them. That’s when it hit me - they were mine. I screamed as I ran from who, or whatever was chasing me through those tunnels. I kept looking back in the direction of the footsteps and seeing no one. Tears formed in my eyes as I ran. The final time I looked back I saw something, a dark figure, almost like a bird chasing me, but it was like no bird I’ve ever seen. It was made of pitch darkness, flying toward me with vigor. But I still heard footsteps, and I felt a fear inside me that I’ve never felt before. I was going to die. I looked back and I was right behind me. But it was no longer flying, it was just hovering toward me, and it still didn’t make any sense as it didn’t correlate with the footsteps I was hearing. I grew tired of running and screaming and accepted my fate and stopped.

As I stopped, the noises stopped. I turned around and saw the figure before me, inches from my face. It was tall and pitch black. It looked me in my eyes and I could see all of its features and conditions. It had dark, feathered skin, but it’s head looked like a man’s. It’s wings were folded back as a bird’s does when it isn’t flying. It leaned in closer to me and a feather fell onto my shoulder. I remember it, it was long and soft, and I grabbed it off of me and clutched it, feeling each bristle in my fist. As it leaned in, it uttered something in English. I count make it out at first, but the figure kept repeating and repeating and repeating itself until I understood. “Return to where you came. You don’t belong here,” it uttered. Liquid flowed out of its mouth as it spoke to me, with a texture like blood. The spectacle was so terrifying and grotesque that I had to close my eyes. As my eyes stayed sealed I could feel my cold tears running down my face. Then I heard banging. I still didn’t open my eyes. The banging grew louder and louder each time. I was still standing in the center of the tunnels, eyes still shut, and the banging grew faster now. The figure screamed in front of me, while the banging proceeded, but the screaming faded, like it was being pulled away. It faded until it was gone. The banging turned into pounding at that point.

As the banging continued I heard what I thought couldn’t be. It was… a car horn? And people talking? I opened my eyes. I was back in my room in the city. The banging slowly began to feel recognizable to me, it was someone knocking on my room door. I was lying down in my bed. I opened my eyes to the eggshell white ceiling of my bedroom, with my ceiling fan running on high. The goosebumps were still all over me. My sheets were drenched in sweat. I rose from my bed and opened the door. I saw my father standing in the door way, his face red with anger. “I’ve been standing here knocking forever, didn’t you hear me?” He shouted. I walked past him and proceeded to the bathroom behind him, knelt over, and threw up in the toilet. He saw this and tried to console me, asking me what was wrong and if I’m feeling alright. “Maybe we shouldn’t go today,” he exclaimed after seeing me like this. “Go where,” I asked. “To the cabin.” My eyes grew wide with horror. We hadn’t gone yet. It was all a nightmare. Chills ran through my body. I stood up, lightheaded and still nauseated. “Yea, let’s not go anywhere,” I said.

That dream was a warning. We were not supposed to go to that cabin, and something was trying to tell me. I ignored my father’s acts of aid and went back to my room and shut the door. I laid in my bed, on my back, staring at the ceiling. “I’ve never felt something so real,” I thought to myself. I began to think about the dream as I rolled over to my side. That’s when I saw it, at the side of my bed. It was sitting on the floor next to me and seemed to stare at me. I felt a eerie feeling inside me. I leaned over and picked it up, inspecting it closely. Then the fear settled in and tears formed in my eyes again. I looked at it and felt it, trembling. For in my hand was the black feather I held in my dream.