If I hadn’t been so distracted I would not have rented a remote cabin deep in the Catskills Mountains on the edge of thick trees that whisper ancient stories to one another. I needed to concentrate on my writing.

It was a long drive, over two hundred and fifty miles. Alone and feeling unsettled I arrived at the rustically charming cabin. From the outside it looked cozy, safe, warm. My eye caught a flick of a curtain. I dismissed it because I was tired from the drive.

I opened the door. The creaky floorboards and mournful howl of air from the fireplace gave me goose bumps. I shrugged it off and locked the door behind me just in case goblins or elves were about.

It was chilly and noticed there were plenty of supplies of wood and kindling and matches to start a fire. The sun was setting and the night air was in so a fire would warm up the cabin in no time.

I settled in and began writing with pen as paper, writing the old fashioned way. I concentrate better this way. Trying to focus I felt a creepy, strange, prickling awareness like electricity flash up my back. Glancing up from my paper I could feel someone watching me yet I could see nothing. I froze.

Shadows cast from the raging fire burst onto the walls. One shadow did not move. It was like ink and pulsated and seemed to squirm and twitch. This shadow had no beginning or end. Didn’t bend, it was just there watching me.

Suddenly the shadow dislodged and took the shape of a long, lanky silhouette of a man with morphed edges that were thin and undefined.

I was terrified; it had no eyes, only black holes.

Instantly the air was bitter cold and very dark in spite of the blazing fire. Silence except for the crackles of burning wood. I heard a voice.

“Who are you? Why are you in my home?” it barked.

I grabbed my phone and put the flashlight on and aimed at the figure.

It shrieked as if the light burned it. The figure twisted in agony then disappeared into nothing.

I didn’t sleep, hours passed and dawn rose with a pink glow. I didn’t stay any longer. Whatever that thing was I was not going to hang around to find out.

Driving away I could see a dark figure lingering in the window. Lightly flicking the curtain.

That thing, that dark shadow stained me and would forever be in my memories. A secret, chilling true testament and mystery of the trees that tell ancient stories to one another about dead men with no names and dark shadows of long ago.