The Cabin That Was Never Empty
Laura had been hiking for hours when she found it.
A charming wooden cabin, nestled deep in the forest. The structure looked old, but not abandoned. The wood was polished, the windows clean, and the hanging plants were still alive.
And yet—
There were no signs of anyone.
She knocked once. Twice.
Silence.
Then she noticed—
The front door was slightly open.
The Warmth Inside
Curiosity got the best of her.
Stepping inside, Laura felt the warmth of a burning fireplace. The scent of pine filled the air. A table was set for one, a plate of steaming stew waiting.
But the house was empty.
Or at least, it should have been.
That’s when she saw the journal.
An old, leather-bound book sat by the fireplace.
She flipped it open.
The first few pages were normal—dates, notes about the weather, small sketches of the forest.
But as she kept reading, the handwriting became shaky. The words rushed. Panicked.
“I thought it was abandoned too.”
“I was wrong.”
“The cabin doesn’t need people. It just remembers them.”
Laura’s breath caught.
A new entry appeared on the last page.
Ink still drying.
“Welcome home, Laura.”
Her blood ran cold.
She hadn’t written that.
Then, behind her—
The rocking chair creaked.
Slowly.
Like someone was sitting in it.
Watching.
She turned—
But the chair was empty.
And the stew on the table?
Still steaming.
The Cabin Remains
Laura ran.
She never found the cabin again.
But deep in the forest, when the wind is quiet, you can still hear the faint creak of the rocking chair.
And if you find the house?
Don’t step inside.
It already knows your name.
