Shadows Creak
In the heart of Maine, where dense forests stretched into the horizon like an endless sea, stood Cabin 13. The dilapidated wooden structure, a relic from the early 20th century, creaked with every gust of wind, making it feel as if it were alive. Its walls bore countless stories, whispers of forgotten fears that lingered in the air. Sarah had always been drawn to the eerie charm of old places, but this was different-this cabin felt like a call from another world. She had chosen it for its remote location and solitude, hoping to use the quietness to dive into her latest novel, away from the bustling city life.
Each night, she read by the flickering firelight, relishing in the peace. However, strange noises began to intrude on her concentration-whispers, footsteps, and the occasional creaking of floorboards. As days turned into nights, Sarah's peace became a distant memory, replaced by an unsettling dread that gnawed at her sanity. The forest around her seemed to close in, and the howling wind carried with it sounds that sent shivers down her spine.
The only way to escape was to leave Cabin 13 behind, but she knew not if or when that would happen. One night, as she lay awake, listening to the noises, a figure appeared at the window-a ghostly silhouette that seemed to dissolve into the shadows. Sarah realized that true horror lies not in external threats but within our own minds.