The Cabin That Waited

Daniel had always loved the solitude of the mountains. City life was suffocating, filled with endless noise, people, and expectations. When he saw the rental listing for a remote forest cabin, he booked it without hesitation.

The owner’s message had been brief.

“It’s an old family cabin. Hasn’t been used in a while, but it’s in good shape. Just be careful at night—bears wander close sometimes.”

Daniel didn’t care about bears. He needed space to breathe. To think.

The drive up was long and winding, taking him deep into the woods where cell service disappeared and the roads narrowed to dirt paths. By the time he reached the cabin, the sun was dipping behind the treetops.

It was exactly as described—small, cozy, with a weathered wooden deck and a rocking chair facing the trees. The place had charm, though it felt… untouched. Like no one had set foot inside for years.

He stepped inside, dust swirling in the fading light. The air smelled of pine and old books. A fireplace sat against the far wall, above which hung a row of black-and-white photographs in faded frames. Daniel barely glanced at them before setting down his bags.

Outside, the wind rustled through the towering trees. The nearest town was miles away. He was completely alone.

Or so he thought.

Night One: The Creaking

That night, Daniel slept soundly—until a noise woke him.

A slow, rhythmic creaking.

He sat up, heart pounding. The sound came from outside, steady and deliberate.

The rocking chair.

Swallowing his fear, he crept to the window and peeked through the curtains. In the dim moonlight, he could see it.

The chair, swaying gently back and forth.

But there was no wind.

His breath caught in his throat. He grabbed the flashlight and swung open the door. The chair stopped instantly.

Silence.

Trying to convince himself it was just settling wood, he went back inside and locked the door.

But sleep didn’t come easily.

Night Two: The Shadows

The next day passed quietly. Daniel hiked, read a book, and tried to ignore the eerie feeling in his gut. But as the sun began to set, the uneasy silence returned.

That night, he noticed something new.

The rocking chair had moved.

Not much—just slightly turned toward the window, as if watching him.

A chill crawled up his spine. He stepped outside to move it back, but as he did, a shadow flickered in the trees.

Someone—or something—was out there.

He scanned the forest, but the darkness revealed nothing.

Still, he locked the doors.

And kept the fireplace poker by his bed.

Night Three: The Photograph

By the third day, Daniel knew something was wrong.

The air inside the cabin felt heavier, like the walls were holding their breath. The photographs above the fireplace seemed… different.

He counted them. Six frames.

But hadn’t there only been five?

A new picture sat in the center. One he knew hadn’t been there before.

It showed a man.

Sitting in the rocking chair.

Looking straight at the camera.

Daniel’s stomach twisted. He lifted the frame, turning it over, but there was no name. No date. Just that man’s blank expression.

That’s when he heard it.

A whisper.

Right outside the window.

“You finally came back.”

His blood ran cold. Slowly, he turned his head toward the glass.

A face stared back at him.

Pale. Hollow-eyed.

The same man from the photograph.

The rocking chair creaked.

Daniel didn’t stop to think. He grabbed his keys, sprinted to the car, and sped down the dirt road, branches scraping against the windows as if trying to pull him back.

When he finally reached town, he asked about the cabin.

The clerk at the gas station frowned.

“That place? No one’s rented it for years. Not since the last guy… never came back.”

Daniel never looked back.

And the cabin?

It still waits.