The Cabin
The low deep bone chilling howl of the wind was brutally pounding my back, as I walked through the deep blood stained snow that looked as if a bucket of red paint had exploded in a room with white walls. My left thigh had a large long gash running from my hip down to my knee, dark red blood ran the nile river down to my sock. Every step I took I could feel the the puddle of blood had has build up in the toe of my shoe. It seemed as if I had been walking for miles and miles but i was barely 400m from the cabin that I had so many pleasant memories in. Through the dim headlights of my old snowmobile that was on the very last leg of its life, I could see my parents cabin. I have been coming here every christmas since I was just
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Me, my brother and parents are the only ones that have ever been here and it is a 8 hour ride from the closet town. BAM! I hear a loud noise that had to of come from the cabin, I sprint through the thick snow as fast as I can to the cabin to investigate the noise. The front door of the cabin is ever so slightly cracked open. Using my foot I slowly push the door and with a slow settle squeaking sound of the old hinges. I peep my head inside but all I can see is darkness. Thinking in my head that there is nothing inside I take a few steps into the cabin, a strong cold gust of wind slams the door shut and I am left in absolute darkness. The sound of a pitch fork being dragged on the ground was coming from upstairs with a constant thud of someone walking. I shuffle to the closet wall I can find and I run my hands along the wall as I walk until I find the stairs that lead to the second story of the cabin. Step by step I make my way up the stairs as the floorboards squeak underneath me. At the top of the stairs there is a long hallway that my brothers room is at the end of. The light of the moon pierces through the …show more content…
I can see the light of the lamp inside his room leaking out the bottom of the door, it made it look as if there was a fire raging on the other side. Walking down the long hall I can hear the faint sound of someone who seems to be placing back and forth in my brothers room. I get to the door and I twist the gold handle but the door was locked, I kept trying to twist it but the door would not open. I could hear footsteps scrambling around in the room. I hit the door with my shoulder and it busts open, but I stood there in the room alone looking around thinking I would find someone hiding. I hear a sound come from the closet, I go over the the door and put my head up the cold wood of the closet door to see if i could hear anything, I hear slow steady breathing. My heart is beating so fast i think it is going come out of my chest as I wrap my hand over the door knob and swing the door open as fast as I can to find snow jackets hanging in the closet.I let out a large sigh of relief and I turn around to see my brother standing in front of my wiht a large cleaver in his right hand and a rusty old pitchfork in the other, I stand there
I’m living this nightmare, but am also telling myself it’s not true because I feel better. Today my family’s plan is to go see Tanner in the funeral home. I don’t want to go and I beg to stay home. My mom and dad force me to go and see him. When I go up to his coffin and see him, I start to scream and run out of the room. I was terrified because I was afraid he was going to get up and grab me. This seems silly, but I’m in complete shock and seeing him like this makes me scared. He was just with me a couple days ago and here he is now lying in front of me. After I calm down I go and look at him once more. I look at his hair and his face. Thinking to myself, “I’m going to miss you Tanner. I’m going to miss your laugh, your personality, your smile, etc.” I touch his face and it puts me back into the cold reality that this is really happening. My brother really died and he’s really right in front of me in a
The cold chill was blazing on me and my shoe gently began to pull out a tear. I thought about Candy and the other guys. Hopefully, I made the right choice. The sun came down and I ended up in a deserted river. Slowly, I began to regain where I was, and I opened my eyes in disbelief.
You are alone at night, and all you have is a flashlight that doesn't work and a sleeping bag. Then you see a church and decide to go behind it to stay away from a person’s eyes. When you get there you put everything down and put new batteries in your flashlight. When you start doing this, you hear voices around you and start wondering if you are not alone. Looking everywhere you find nothing, then you come back where you were and your stuff has been moved. Then you start wondering around and you come upon a mental cover covered with grass. You open it up and you find stairs and your curiosity get the best of you. You head down the stairs and then you feel like something is pulling you down. You get down there and it feels like you have been down there for weeks and when you come back up, you do not remember anything that just happened. This experience has been felt by many people that
I didn’t know where exactly I was going. But I didn’t care. I walked aimlessly in search of shelter, a place where I could seek refuge. Hours went by, and I was losing hope. When out of the corner of my eye, through the distant, dense foliage. I noticed what could have been salvation. I was fatigued and in a feeble state, was I hallucinating? Or was this real? I stumbled through the valley, my eyes fixated on the dwelling ahead. Much to my delight it was very real. I arrived at the cabin and surveyed the surroundings. The shack itself was isolated, old and tattered, as if unattended to for an eternity. I knocked on the door, and suddenly became overwhelmed by a supernatural feeling. I could hear frantic rumbling and murmuring inside, evidently the occupant wasn’t expecting a visitor. I waited a while longer, and finally the door creaked open and I was greeted by three of the utmost repulsive looking creatures I had ever had the displeasure of laying my eyes on. As disgusted as I was, I was in no position to turn away, I needed their help. They welcomed me into their abode and provided me with nourishment and directions on how to return
I received the call that my brother had overdosed when I was going to a haunted house with a couple of my friends. My mother had not known the severity and told me not to worry. Steven had overdosed in the past so I was not as concerned as I should have been. My friends and I kept on with our festivities and then they dropped me off at my house. There was no one home and I became distressed. When I called my mother she told me to just go to bed and that they would be home soon. I forced myself to sleep. I was in a daze when my mother and father came into my room to tell me that my brother was dead. I don’t know what happened in my brain, but I could not talk and I could not cry. I believe I brushed it off as an awful nightmare. My unconscious demeanor scared my parents so they kept sending people in my room trying to get through to me. I woke up to my best friend hugging me, not saying a word, and then she left. I woke up to my grandma holding my hand with tears flowing down her eyes, not saying a word, and then she left. I woke to my godmother speaking about grief and how I needed to believe that he was gone, and then she left. How was I supposed to believe that my brother was no longer on this earth? I sat there on my bed alone as the idea of my brother dying crept into my mind. My heart began to literally ache. I cried hysterically for hours on hours. It has been a year since he has passed and it doesn’t get any
Unfamiliarity, in the broadest sense, can evoke a feeling of fear or anxiety. However, my unique cultural upbringing has made me comfortable with unfamiliarity, and eager to embrace differences among people with compassion and tolerance. I am the product of a cultural infusion—I was born in the United Kingdom to an English father, but was influenced by the Turkish customs of my mother. While living in England, I grew up eating dinner on the floor, listening to Turkish music on the radio, and waking up to a poster of Kemal Ataturk. I spent every summer living in Turkey where I learned the language, saw the way different people lived, and became familiar with the practices of Islam. At 14 years old I was immersed in yet another culture when I
It was late I thought. Almost midnight yet I was still unable to sleep. I stared thoughtlessly at the moving shadows mumbling to myself, "it was just a story" but in my heart I knew it wasn't, it was more than a story, much, much more. Then, a crow appeared in the middle of my room. The crow stared at me with such intensity that I fell backwards into the safety of my pillow. I stared at the crow in shock as it disappeared into my closet and that's when I heard it, a long piercing whine that was like a nail to a chalkboard. I prayed that it would go away, I prayed with all my heart but it stayed there continuing its long whine. It was then when I caught a glimpse of it. I saw two glowing bloodshot eyes stare at me. I let out a scream born from terror and almost immediately my dad came bursting into my room. He stared at me with confusion but all I could do was point a shaking finger at my closet door. Cautiously, my father marched into the closet door only to find nothing inside. Then, without warning, the closet door slammed shut along with my father still inside.
My life intersects with Into The Wild because I never had a good relationship with my mom or stepfather Dan who was 21 years older than my mother. So I “escaped” to Columbia much like Chris did from his own reality. Dan would drink every day; you would rarely see him without a drink in his hand. His drink of choice would be either whiskey or beer depending on what he could afford. You could always tell when he was smashed and when he was I was the person he wanted to tear down with his words the most. I remember one night after my grandma just had surgery and she was staying with us my mom asked me to cook. I told her I would. I then went outside to check what I was grilling and I knew Dan was out there intoxicated.
As I inched my way toward the cliff, my legs were shaking uncontrollably. I could feel the coldness of the rock beneath my feet when my toes curled around the edge in one last futile attempt at survival. My heart was racing like a trapped bird, desperate to escape. Gazing down the sheer drop, I nearly fainted; my entire life flashed before my eyes. I could hear stones breaking free and fiercely tumbling down the hillside, plummeting into the dark abyss of the forbidding black water. The trees began to rapidly close in around me in a suffocating clench, and the piercing screams from my friends did little to ease the pain. The cool breeze felt like needles upon my bare skin, leaving a trail of goose bumps. The threatening mountains surrounding me seemed to grow more sinister with each passing moment, I felt myself fighting for air. The hot summer sun began to blacken while misty clouds loomed overhead. Trembling with anxiety, I shut my eyes, murmuring one last pathetic prayer. I gathered my last breath, hoping it would last a lifetime, took a step back and plun...
My music was blaring and my heart was racing. I pushed my way to the first black diamond run in sight to warm up. I froze and excitly looked at what was before me. Exquisite mountains coated in snow surrounded me and I could barely make out the quaint village town. The scent of the pine and snow was memorizing.
Playing with fire is bad, they taught me. Problem is, it's fun. There's also the fact that if you tell a child not to do something, they will do it. It's just human nature to be curious, you can't take that away.
Walking, there is no end in sight: stranded on a narrow country road for all eternity. It is almost dark now. The clouds having moved in secretively. When did that happen? I am so far away from all that is familiar. The trees are groaning against the wind’s fury: when did the wind start blowing? Have I been walking for so long that time hysterically slipped away! The leaves are rustling about swirling through the air like discarded post-it notes smashing, slapping against the trees and blacktop, “splat-snap”. Where did the sun go? It gave the impression only an instant ago, or had it been longer; that it was going to be a still and peaceful sunny day; has panic from hunger and walking so long finally crept in? Waking up this morning, had I been warned of the impending day, the highs and lows that I would soon face, and the unexpected twist of fate that awaited me, I would have stayed in bed.
I looked up at the black sky. I hadn't intended to be out this late. The sun had set, and the empty road ahead had no streetlights. I knew I was in for a dark journey home. I had decided that by traveling through the forest would be the quickest way home. Minutes passed, yet it seemed like hours and days. The farther I traveled into the forest, the darker it seemed to get. I was very had to even take a breath due to the stifling air. The only sound familiar to me was the quickening beat of my own heart, which felt as though it was about to come through my chest. I began to whistled to take my mind off the eerie noises I was hearing. In this kind of darkness I was in, it was hard for me to believe that I could be seeing these long finger shaped shadows that stretched out to me. I had this gut feeling as though something was following me, but I assured myself that I was the only one in the forest. At least I had hoped that I was.
Once upon a time, I saw the world like I thought everyone should see it, the way I thought the world should be. I saw a place where there were endless trials, where you could try again and again, to do the things that you really meant to do. But it was Jeffy that changed all of that for me. If you break a pencil in half, no matter how much tape you try to put on it, it'll never be the same pencil again. Second chances were always second chances. No matter what you did the next time, the first time would always be there, and you could never erase that. There were so many pencils that I never meant to break, so many things I wish I had never said, wish I had never done. Most of them were small, little things, things that you could try to glue back together, and that would be good enough. Some of them were different though, when you broke the pencil, the lead inside it fell out, and broke too, so that no matter which way you tried to arrange it, they would never fit together and become whole again. Jeff would have thought so too. For he was the one that made me see what the world really was. He made the world into a fairy tale, but only where your happy endings were what you had to make, what you had to become to write the words, happily ever after. But ever since I was three, I remember wishing I knew what the real story was.
As I walk in through the door, I begin to sense the feeling of warmth come over me. This is the feeling I get every time I arrive at my Grandpa's house in Price, Utah. It's where I spent the first five years of my life. This is my second home.