The Cabin That Called Her Back
Mara had sworn she’d never return.
Fifteen years had passed since she last set foot in this town, in these woods, near this cabin. It had been her grandfather’s retreat, a place where the world slowed down, where the stars shined the brightest, and where secrets were buried beneath the fallen leaves.
Now, standing in front of it again, she felt that same unease settle in her chest. The structure looked different—renovated, warm, inviting—but it still carried the same pull, as if the cabin itself had been waiting for her.
The moment she stepped inside, memories hit her like a storm. The scent of pine and old books. The creak of the wooden floor. The fireplace, where her grandfather used to sit, staring at the flames, whispering things she had been too young to understand.
She ran her fingers along the bookshelves, stopping at a familiar title: The One Who Listens.
That was what he had always called the cabin.
“It listens, Mara,” he had told her one night when she was just ten years old. “It remembers. And if you listen back… it will speak.”
A chill crept down her spine.
The wind outside howled through the trees, but inside the cabin, it was silent. Too silent.
And then, a whisper.
Not from outside. Not from her own thoughts.
From the walls.
“Welcome back, Mara. I’ve been waiting.”
The book fell from her trembling hands. The fireplace roared to life, though no one had lit it.
And in the flickering glow, her grandfather’s shadow stretched across the room—but there was no one there.
