Blood on the Cabin Door,
I never thought home could feel so wrong. One minute, Max was driving like his life depended on it—which it did—and the next, the timber cabin where my parents lived rose out of the white storm, all dark logs and snow-heavy roof. The wind howled in the pines above us like hungry wolves. My chest tightened so much I thought I'd stop breathing.
Hook: We'd just escaped a monster in the road—something that looked exactly like Mrs. Reynolds, my art teacher—its black eyes claws inches from our windshield. Now we were here, on the edge of the forest, and I realized the terror wasn't over. It was just moving locations.
"Here it is," Max said, cutting the engine. His voice sounded hollow. The truck's headlights swept over the cabin's front: snowdrifts banked high, its windows dark. No smoke from the chimney. No welcoming light. My parents always kept a fire going, at least until late.
I opened my door. The cold hit me like a slap. I slammed it shut behind me. A gust of wind blew snow against my face. I hunched my shoulders, ear to the wind for any sign of life.
Coach Roberts and Nurse Clarke climbed down from the bed, Lena and Nika clutching blankets. We formed a line toward the front door. My hands shook so badly I dropped my phone—it cracked on the ice. I felt like an intruder in my own home.
I flicked the flashlight on. The beam cut through the swirling snow like a knife. Each step on the porch creaked under our weight. I reached the door first. My heart hammered as I put my gloved hand on the cold handle.
I tried the knob. It was locked. Inside, I heard the faint scrape of furniture—like something heavy being moved. Or dragged. I swallowed hard. "It's locked," I called inside. "Mom? Dad? It's me, Satrio!"
Silence. Then the floorboard behind the door creaked again, closer now. My breath caught. I pressed my ear to the wood. Something low groaned—a sound part human, part animal. I jerked back.
Nika's voice shook. "What was that?"
I swallowed. "Something's in there." My words made me choke. "It's not my parents."
"Maybe they bolted the door to keep it out," Lena whispered.
"Or to keep it in," I said under my breath.
Coach Roberts touched my shoulder. "Let me try." He took out a heavy keyring and fitted the master key in the lock. The latch clicked open. He pushed gently. The door swung in with a moan.
I stepped aside, flashlight up. Nurse Clarke hovered behind me with an emergency kit in her arms. Lena and Nika stayed by the door, trembling.
Inside, the cabin was dead silent. The glow from our flashlights carved the room into bright pools and dark corners. Snow drifted in through a broken window on the far wall. The hearth was cold. The coffee table was overturned, one leg snapped. Chairs lay on their sides. There were streaks of dark red across the floorboards, frozen in place.
"Mom? Dad?" I called again, voice echoing off the wooden walls.
No answer. My stomach lurched. I flicked the light across the walls: photos of Mom and Dad smiling on fishing trips; my little sister's birthday cake — I smacked my hand over my mouth.
I edged forward. Nurse Clarke stayed close, shining her light. "Be careful," she whispered.
I moved toward the living room. A chair lay smashed under the window. Snow blew inside, swirling around something on the floor. I gasped when I recognized Mom's bright red scarf. I stepped closer and froze.
She lay face-down on the ground, half in snow. One arm was twisted behind her back. Her coat was open, revealing a blood-soaked sweater. Her hair was matted with ice and something dark. A deep spiral symbol was carved into the back of her hand—flesh peeled back, raw and frozen muscle gleaming under the flashlight's beam.
I swallowed the bile rising in my throat. "Mom…" I whispered, voice trembling. I fell to my knees and turned her over. Her eyes were open—but empty, lifeless, glazed with ice. Blood trickled from her lips in a thin frozen line.
"She's… she's gone," I choked out.
Nika ran to me and hugged me around the neck. I felt her tears on my cheek. Coach Roberts knelt beside us, placing a comforting hand on my shoulder.
Nurse Clarke set down her bag and checked for a pulse. Her face turned ashen. "No pulse," she said softly. "But she's not too far gone. If we warm her quickly…"
I shook my head, tears burning my eyes. "No. Look… the carving." I pointed at the spiral. Nurse Clarke crouched and shone her light.
"That symbol again," she whispered. "It's the same one from the school." Her voice cracked. "It's branded into her."
I stood slowly, rage flaring in my chest. "We're not letting her stay like this."
Coach Roberts nodded. "We need to move her to the truck, keep her warm."
Lena wrapped mom's coat tighter around her. We carried her outside, sliding across the icy steps. The wind bit at our skin. We laid her gently in the front seat of the truck and wrapped blankets around her. Nurse Clarke stepped into the cab, checking her airways. I shut the door and braced my shoulder against it, trying to hold back quaking limbs.
Behind me, I heard a crash from the cabin. Something inside shifted heavy furniture again. My stomach clenched.
"What was that?" Nika asked, voice small behind me.
I didn't answer. I didn't want to look back, but I knew I had to. I turned the flashlight beam toward the broken window. The form of my father's chair lay on the floor — torn cushions and a broken leg. I swallowed.
Something moved behind the chair. A dark shape slithered across the floor, then froze, backlit by the flashlight. I gasped.
It was Dad—well, a creature in Dad's clothes. His suit jacket hung open. His face was the same shape, but his skin was ashen. His eyes were black pits, and his mouth twisted into a grin that stretched too wide. A spiral symbol had been carved into his forehead, raw and oozing. His lips pulled back to reveal pointed teeth.
"Dad?" I whispered, voice cracking.
He turned his head, too quickly, too fluidly, and the grin widened. He hissed something — a low, guttural sound. His eyes glowed with a red spark.
I stumbled back. The beam of the flashlight shook. I swallowed a scream.
Coach Roberts rushed to the truck's passenger side and slammed the door. "Get in! Get in!" he yelled.
I snapped out of my shock, yanked the door open, and slid in beside Nurse Clarke. Nika and Lena followed, Coach Roberts jumping into the driver's seat. The engine roared to life, headlights swinging back toward the cabin.
Through the windshield, I watched my father step out of the cabin door — or the thing that looked like him. He stood on the porch, motionless. Snow drifted around his feet. He raised one arm slowly, beckoning us.
"Drive!" I screamed.
Coach Roberts slammed the truck into gear. The wheels spun on ice, then we lunged forward. I caught a final look: Dad's black eyes full of hunger, his grin splitting blood from his lips.
The blast of cold wind hit us as we tore down the driveway. The cabin shrank behind us. My mother lay silent in the seat beside me, wrapped in blankets but … not warm. I couldn't look at her face. My chest ached.
Max and Lena crouched in the back, pressing against their supplies. Nika sat next to her, both shivering. I clutched my father's jacket—his favorite blue-and-gray parka—the one I'd worn as a kid. My fingers brushed the inside pocket where he kept a pack of cigarettes. Now it was empty.
"We have to go to the ranger station," I said. "They have radio. Maybe they can call for help and a search party."
Nurse Clarke nodded. "It's about five miles south. Rough trail, but it's our best chance."
Coach Roberts slowed to turn onto the service road again. The truck's heater wheezed and sputtered to life, blowing hot air only on the driver's side. I pushed the vent to direct it to the front.
"Hang on," Coach muttered. He turned the wheel and pointed us into the forest. The trees leaned in so close I felt like we were driving through a narrow tunnel of darkness.
I swallowed hard and stared at the road. My parents were gone—no, taken—and replaced by these monsters. I pressed my palm against the cold glass, watching my breath fog it. My mind raced. Ulzakar's hunger had turned the people I loved into killers. And now it had its claws dug into me.
I glanced at Nurse Clarke. She sat tense beside Mom's body. Her knuckles were white on the steering wheel. Next to her, Mom's body lay still and pale. The spiral on her hand glinted in the dim light.
"Don't let it fade," I murmured. "Not here, not ever."
She looked at me and nodded. "We'll get your mother help."
I turned back forward. The headlights carved a path into thick snow banks. It felt like driving into a nightmare, one that would never end—but we had to try. I took a deep breath and whispered a promise to the night:
I will save you, Mom. I will save you, Dad. I will end this horror—or die trying.
And as the world beyond the windshield blurred into white, I knew we were racing not just for our lives, but for our souls.