by C. N. Nevets, (c) 2010
We'd never done Christmas at her grandparents' cabin before. During the day, it had seemed charming and rustic. It had felt warm and cozy.
At night, it was unsettling for my city-boy nerves.
Ice-covered branches scratched against the cabin and clinked against one another. Birds or animals moaned, low and remorseful. The snow that fell seemed to hush everything but the sounds I didn't want.
Cozy felt confining. Rustic felt unprotected.
It's just the woods. It's just the woods. It's just the woods.
And then I saw the face at the window.
And the blood seeping under the door.
Please read the other stories that are part of the Advent Ghosts 2010 event, organized by Loren Eaton.