Graf 12: Place

We pulled in the dirt driveway and you could hear the metal chain clanging against the trailer and the crunch of metal every time the wheels on the trailer hit each pothole. We rolled forward and then the truck stops. I hopped out of the truck and looked around. The air smelled so crisp and clean, it almost felt like it was a secret spot, untainted from pollution.

If you listened quietly, you can hear the water running through the ditch. Just behind the rickety wooden fence was a worn out trail into the woods. It reminded me of the movie wrong turn, you know, where the young people get stuck and walk through the woods to get somewhere, inevitably most of them end up dying, except for one or two. I had that feeling as I started to walk up the worn dirt path. I glanced down at my cell phone and checked to make sure I had reception, didn’t want to get lost in the woods and not be able to call for help.

I started up the path and I kept looking back, there was the truck and trailer and Chris. Okay, so far so good, or at least I thought.

As I continued along the path, I realized the trees were getting thicker and the bushes were getting denser. 

Then just a few hundred feet ahead of me was an abandoned cabin.

The paint was peeling off the side and just hanging there. The shutters, hanging by a nail, shifted in the breeze. 

It was daylight, nothing bad happens during daylight. I stepped up the stairs and with each creak my heart started beating faster.

I quickly stepped into the cabin and it looked like a bear ransacked the little place. There were a couple benches that appeared to have been turned to kindling and broken glass strewn across the place.

I stepped a little further in the cabin towards the back and that’s when all of a sudden a big gust of wind whipped through the cabin and knocked the shutters right off. My heart was beating through my chest, I was sure you could see it right through my shirt.