by Matt Hickman
She didn’t know.
For a full thirty seconds, there wasn’t a sound. The thumping sensation of the heartbeat in her chest and neck slowly started to subside as it stopped threatening to smash through her rib cage, when suddenly the scratching noise returned. Fiercer and faster than before, rising and rising to the point of an intense pain within her skull, she squeezed her eyes shut so tightly to keep the noise from invading her mind that they hurt.
As quickly as it had started, it ceased. Her eyes scanned around the room frantically, her face dripping with anxious sweat, her breathing deep and erratic - she was paralysed with fear, she didn’t dare move.
In one of the rays of light cast from the lamp near the entrance to the room, she spotted the shadow of something small, slowly crawling under the small gap between the bottom of the door and the wooden floor.
It crawled slowly at first, alone – then another, and another. Then there were dozens, their numbers increasing rapidly into hundreds. Surging into the room from the gap beneath the door, they marched in a line and quickly started to clamber up and swarm onto the wooden frame at the foot of the bed.
Debilitated with horror, she sat still and stared in apprehension as she saw the spiders quickly running beneath the sheets of her bed and up the front of her legs, scratching and biting on their way. They continued their ascent up the front of her nightgown, teeming up her exposed legs, stomach and breasts, their legs scratching and tearing into her skin like thousands of agonising pinpricks, producing fresh wounds. Dozens of them had made their way to the top of the bed clothes and were scurrying towards her face.
Unable to move, she screamed at the top of her lungs but no sound escaped. Several of the spiders invaded her open mouth and clawed at the soft flesh inside, clambering up her nasal cavity and dropping down the back of her throat.
*****
Lisa Harper awoke suddenly with an ear shattering scream, desperately clawing and brushing the spiders from her body, gagging and spitting as she leapt up from her slumber. She stopped, suddenly disorientated and unaware of where she was. She quickly took in her surroundings - the conservatory of the log cabin.
The candles that she had lit earlier had long since burned out, not even a trace of their scent remained. The rest of the cabin still lay in complete darkness because of the power cut due to the raging storm outside. The porch swing rocked backwards and forwards violently from where she had woken up and leapt from it in her blind panic.
Spotting her wine glass and bottle, both tipped over and contents drained, her fuzzy head and dry mouth suggested the obvious - she had drunk too much and fallen asleep. Grabbing her phone from beside the patio swing, she picked it up and checked the display; the time was 1:13 am. The display showed no signal, it had remained that way since the storm first started to roll in earlier at about 21:30 pm.
She surveyed the scene outside, through the large, double conservatory doors. Situated at the far end of the building, it provided the only view to the outside from the entire cabin, overlooking the spectacular view of the lake. Despite the storm, it was still a warm summer night, clouds rolled in, and the sharp, fresh aroma of ozone invaded the air.
Forked lightning lit up the sky dramatically like fireworks over the lake - cascading in the distance like bolts of pure visual static and electricity. Thunder roared, echoing and rocking the landscape, shaking the cabin and its entire structure to its very foundations. Rain hammered down, bouncing inches from the surface of the lake, hammering down the grass and shrubs around the perimeter of the water. Rain flooded quickly down from the sloping roof of the cabin, flowing in in large rivulets down the large glass panels in the doors, and off down the wooden incline of the approach path to the cabin.
Despite the warm buzz provided by the alcohol flowing through her veins, Lisa felt anxious. She was in an unknown place, alone. Her mind cast back to the incident in her apartment eighteen months ago. She couldn’t believe that her friend Cathy had persuaded her into meeting her here, at her holiday home in the southern tip of the Lake District, for a quiet weekend away together.
It had been a horrible period of her life. She thought back with anger and disgust at the assault she'd suffered in her own apartment, by a stranger nonetheless, then the subsequent physical and psychological treatment. The scars and stitches on her body had long since healed, her mental scars hadn’t. The persistent night terrors were an everlasting reminder of the traumatic episode.
The attack had led to her selling her luxury apartment within the sought after Watch Tower apartment complex for a little more than half of its market value. She had left her job and moved back in with her parents, the sanctity provided within their care almost made her a recluse.
It had only been the last few months that she'd been back in touch with her old friend, and met up a few times before reluctantly agreeing to come on the weekend break.
It’s absolutely beautiful up there, I‘ve been hundreds of times. I've never even seen anyone else there, not even once. It will be great, just me and you, some old films and a few bottles of wine. It will do you the world of good to get away.
Clicking on the menu button and selecting the call log on her mobile, she checked when she had last spoken to her friend - shortly after 9 pm. They had spoken briefly and although the signal was poor, Cathy reported that she was well on her way and that she would be arriving at the cabin at around eleven that evening. Apologising, she explained that she would have made it earlier, but she had been held up at the office in a late meeting with an important client and it was a good two-hour drive from work.
Where was she?
Beginning to worry, then panic, the thoughts of the storm outside entered her mind. Had her friend had been in a car accident? Was she stranded somewhere, hurt, or perhaps worse? She checked her mobile phone again – still no reception.
Nervously, she lit a dozen of the candles in the conservatory, illuminating the room with a soft glow. Collecting two of the lit ones, she moved from the windows and headed through the large, tiled kitchen space, into the main living area. Feeling a little off balance and none too steady on her feet due to the wine, she placed the first candle down and began to light and spread more of them around the room. The light and shadows that the candles cast gave the room an eerie, subdued atmosphere.
Searching frantically around the living room, she located the land line. Rushing over, she picked up the handset and placed it to her ear – no dial tone. She pressed down on the receiver a few times in a futile attempt to kick start the phone into life – still nothing. Shit!
Scanning around the room for something that may help, she found nothing of any use, with no power, no phones, and no internet, she was screwed. The noise of the rain and wind outside continued to batter against the external walls of the cabin; it seemed to be getting worse, the thunder echoed even more violently and the lightning continued to illuminate the night sky in bright flashes. The reflection from the candles flickered in the living area, giving off a surreal, macabre illusion of dancing black and gold shadows.
Unsure of what she could do, she became increasingly nervous. She couldn’t head out in the storm and look for her friend, she had no idea which direction she would be approaching from. The cabin was in the middle of nowhere, probably three miles at least to the nearest village, and the weather outside could only lead her into trouble. Her only option was to sit it out and wait for the storm to pass. Hopefully the phone lines would return to working order soon enough and she would be able to get some help.
Heading into the kitchen area, she lit a few more candles on the way and filled herself a glass of tap water. She gulped it down greedily in one, the cool crisp water refreshing her dry mouth and throat. She filled another and placed the glass on the kitchen surface.
Heading back over to the conservatory window, she looked back out over the lake. Despite its normal beauty, the electricity of the storm illuminated the area in spectacular fashion. The trees were being battered
sideways by the wind and rain, unable to offer any resistance to the forces of nature as the branches and leaves hung limp, swaying violently, backwards and forwards in the distance over the water.
Tracking her gaze along the over-filling banks of the lake, she spotted something just on the edge of the row of trees and bushes a few hundred yards away – movement. It appeared to be a large figure, most likely the outline of a man due to the size, dressed from head to foot in dark clothing. His face was obscured by a mask or dark hat, as quickly as he had materialised, he disappeared back into the thick of the trees.
Lisa panicked. Quickly grabbing both handles on the conservatory doors, she yanked the handles downwards, double checked that they were locked before snatching the keys from the main lock in the door, and dropped them into the breast pocket of her nightgown.
Hysterically, her eyes searched the area where she had seen the figure disappear into the cover of the trees. Was it her imagination? No, she was almost certain that despite the wild conditions outside, that she had seen someone.
Concentrating her stare, searching desperately in the area, her eyes explored every detail, willing, almost wishing the figure return into sight to confirm her suspicion. Nothing revealed itself, no dark figures, no animals, not a thing. With her senses heightened and her paranoia off the chart, she considered once more whether her mind was playing tricks on her. She was alone in an unknown cabin by a lake, in a storm.
Man, what a cliché.
Checking her mobile once more, the display confirmed that there was no phone service available. Double checking, she tried dialling out to her friend’s mobile number, the phone presented nothing but a dull, constant beeping. Shit!
Her hands shaking, still clutching her mobile, she gazed once more out toward the distance at the edge of the lake. Come on, where are you, you bastard? Slowly tracking to her right, her eyes probed the outline of the mass of trees. Something a little further to the left, just inside her peripheral vision caught her attention – a quick flash of light. Nothing too bright, less than a second and then it was gone.
Lisa’s entire body was immediately consumed with terror; it was s definite flash of light, confirming her suspicions that there was someone beside the lake. Turning quickly, she blew out all the candles that were burning away in the conservatory, it fell into a blanket of darkness, providing her with the security of tenebrosity. The only light at all was provided by the moonlight and the forks of lightning from outside. Great, now what do I do?
The only other access point to the cabin was the main door that opened into the shared living quarters and kitchen. She quickly turned on her heels and ran towards the entrance. With her heart pounding in her chest, she made her dash, expecting the door to be kicked inwards at any moment.
Grabbing at the handle, she confirmed that it was locked before snatching the key from the lock and dropping it in her pocket with the conservatory keys. Slamming both bolts shut, top and bottom, she cursed herself for not already doing so.
After all that you have been through before, you can’t even be bothered to check that the door is locked properly?
Desperately searching around the living area of the cabin, she spotted exactly what she needed. She pulled away the four chairs and grabbed the edge of the large dining table and began to drag it towards the main entrance. The table was solid pine and difficult for one person to manoeuvre on their own. With sheer determination, fuelled by fear and adrenaline, she began to drag it inch by inch towards the entrance. The heavy wooden legs moaned in defiance as they scraped against the floor.
Stop making so much noise, he will hear you.
Who cares?
He's out there and there's a storm raging.
Painstakingly, she completed the task and swapped to the other end of the table. One last surge of strength and she managed to push the table up against the main door. Safer - for now.
Heading quickly back towards the conservatory window, she dared another glance out over the lake, the landscape still being battered by the elements as she stared intently. Except for the noise of the wind, and rain or the odd rumble of thunder or flash of lightning, there were no signs of movement at all.
Was it a flash of lightning? But what about the figure, I could have sworn there was a figure?
Checking her mobile again, the signal strength icon was replaced with an exclamation mark. Quickly running through to the living area, she grabbed the phone receiver and placed it against her ear, her heart lifted as she heard a reassuring dial tone.
Remembering that Cathy was missing, she considered her first phone call. With the possibility of someone lurking outside near the lake, it was probably best if she tried to warn her friend first. Besides, she had no idea how long it would take the police to get out here and perhaps Cathy was able to get help more quickly.
Copying the number from the address book on her mobile phone, she dialled and waited patiently, the receiver shaking as it rested in her trembling hand. A few seconds passed, the call connected and the phone started to ring.
Thank God.
The phone continued to ring, five times, seven times.
Come on Cathy, pick up.
Her friend’s chirpy voice echoed in the earpiece. Before Lisa could respond, the voice explained that she couldn’t get to the phone and please leave a message after the beep.
Shit, Voice mail.
Slamming the phone down on the receiver, she paused – thinking. She grabbed it for a second time and pressed re-dial. The same sequence of events panned out – dialling tone, connection, before the phone rang out and went directly to voice mail.
Damn it, Cathy. Where are you?
Replacing the hand set down onto the cradle, she stopped and considered her options. Unable to get through to Cathy, she picked up the phone, placed it to her ear and began to dial. 9-9…
The line went dead.
Quickly tapping the receiver down on the phone three or four times, her worst fear was confirmed – the phone line appeared to be no longer operational. It had been there just a few seconds ago. The elements continued to batter the cabin from outside. Had the storm knocked it out again? Or had it been cut?
Trepidation began to rise from her stomach to her throat. Lisa swallowed heavily. Searching around the living area, she hunted for something - anything that could be used as a makeshift weapon. Spotting a cast iron poker hanging beside the open fire place, she quickly grabbed it. Its substantial weight balanced between her two hands made her feel slightly more secure.
Considering the mouth of the open fire place, another despairing thought entered her mind – another point of entry. What if he comes down the chimney? Should I start a fire? No, that would bring attention to the cabin.
Checking around once more, she searched for something that could be used to obstruct the opening. Sure, it was a big fireplace, but was it large enough to cater for a man? Considering the dining table that was held up against the main door, she felt that it was in the best place to act as a barricade. Darting over to the dining chairs that were left strewn in the corner, she grabbed one and stuffed it into the opening of the fireplace, at the most awkward angle that it would fit, continuing with another two in the hope that it would be enough to stop anyone from trying to enter the cabin from up on the roof. Chair legs protruded from the opening in obstinate directions.
Snatching the poker and her mobile phone from the kitchen surface, she sprinted back to the conservatory doors, once more gazing out into the carnage of the storm. She kept a few steps back from the glass in the fear that someone may suddenly appear face to face.
Come on you bastard, I know you’re out there.
Standing, she observed, her weapon in her hands ready to fight – ready to make her stand. In the distance, she saw it again, a flash of light from within the trees. Only a momentary burst before disappearing into darkness.
Panic quickly took hold and wiped any thoughts of confrontation from her mind. Retreating, she ran
for the bedroom, grabbing the last chair from the dining set and dragging it into the room behind her. Throwing her mobile phone and the poker down onto the bed covers, she darted into the living area and grabbed two of the burning candles, extinguishing the remaining ones as she ran back into the bedroom. Slamming the door violently behind her, she wedged the backrest of the chair up under the handle. She pulled the door, it was secure, not perfect, but it would do.
The exact vision of her night terror from earlier lay before her, the bed, the linen, even down to the red and black striped duvet cover. Of course, it’s the same, you came in here and saw it when you first arrived in the cabin you idiot.
Slowly, she approached the foot of the bed, trying not to let her imagination run away with her. It was just a dream, get a grip. She placed the two candles on the bedside table and tentatively sat at the head of the bedstead with the pillows propping up her back.
Placing the poker and her mobile beside her on the bed, she glanced at her phone, the time on the display read 2:23 am. Raising her knees to her chin, she began to hug them resisting the overwhelming urge to cry. Sitting perfectly still, she sat waiting - listening.
The wind and rain continued to batter the cabin from outside, with her heightened sense of anxiety, every single sound was intensified. Wind howled, thunder clapped, and rain fell like artillery shells. She thought that she had heard smashing glass and several times she could swear that she heard loud banging on the cabin door. She refused to move, willing to sit it out until help arrived. What if help didn’t arrive? Thoughts trailed back to the incident in her old apartment, the same feelings of fear, anxiety and desperation.
It took two, long hours for the storm to subside, the sounds of the thunder eventually becoming more distant, less frequent. The intensity of the rain began to lessen to the point that Lisa was unsure whether it was raining at all any more. From outside the cabin came an eerie silence, calm.