## Little Cabin of Terror
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My parents decided to bring us to a rented cabin my rich grandparents owned. It was in the middle of nowhere, Kentucky. We didn't even live in Kentucky, but my dad specifically wanted to be reminded of a time of his childhood. On the way there, telling us extravagant stories about building snowmen, playing hide and seek, shooting water guns by the river, that is currently frozen over.
The place was pretty, but I still didn't want to be there. I would much rather be in my pretty candle-lit bedroom at home in Detroit. Instead I find myself in the middle of the woods, with buffering cell service and a creepy feeling lingering off the woods.
My younger brother, Benni, looked pleased, an opportunity upon him to destroy more property. My older brother, Barron, annoyed, not wanting to be away from his gaming set for even a second. My dad ecstatic about reliving his memories. My mom trying to be happy for my father, but wary never having been to Kentucky.
The day went normal, we all went our own ways. Benni, exploring; Barron, watching VHS tapes in the den. My dad constantly trying to get us to build snowmen, but being blown off. He cooked a nice meal with his childhood favorites; turkey, baked potatoes, green beans, gravy, rolls, and a big sundae bar. It was a rare occasion, my family actually taking time out of their lives, to come together.
Something they hadn't done since I was a toddler.
--
I woke up the night to growling. A sound I once heard in a specific movie I couldn't remember. I sat in the corner of my cot against the wall. Terrified of unknown dangers that lurked in the darkness outside.
My father was shouting from another room. Yelling my moms first name and yelling to Benni to step back. I sat shaking. Until everyone stopped shouting. The growling stopped. Bringing the house silent.
I sat in my corner of the tiny cot. My blanket wrapped around me. I grabbed by my phone and checked the time, to see it was one in the morning. I heard creeping and soft whispers as it seems everyone returned to their rooms.
I sat for a while before falling to sleep in an uncomfortable upright position.
--
The next morning, it's as if nothing had happened. Nobody says anything, not even my usually chipper younger brother, Benni. In fact he didn't say anything. Except politely asking my brother to hand him the syrup.
It unnerved me, but I figured he got a spanking last night. But it didn't explain the growling.
--
Today, we built some snowmen. Nobody saying a word. As if last night had put strain on our behavior, and it had. We cooked a nice meal. Together. I wanted to enjoy the rare family time, but it was hard to enjoy when Benni looked like he swallowed a thumbtack.
--
The next night, I wake up in the same way. Loud thrashing noises followed this time. Yelling. Stomping. Scratching. Benni screams. A high pitched scream, one I can only describe as terror. And I hear a large splatter. Like someone had dropped a gallon of water and spilled it on the garage floor.
Silence.
Benni begins to cry softly. I wanted to check on my baby brother, but I was terrified. Terrified of what sounded like an animal. And somehow terrified of my family.
--
The next morning, Benni has red puffy eyes at the table. My father glueing on his "God,-I-hate- soccer-games" smile at us, as he flips a pancake. Burned on one side. Barron looks as equally terrified.
"Your mother had to go back home to.. take care of some things. She'll be back soon enough." my father assured us. Giving us every last crumb of burnt pancake mix.
--
Instead of waking up to growling, I wake up to Benni shaking me awake. Crying, getting me wet, with something I had thought was his tears.
"Mommy.. a-and daddy." he said through tears.
He plowed into my arms. I rubbed his hair. The tears in his curls. I turned the lamp on, not to see curls, but blood tangled into his hair. Clots of blood, even what looked like a chunk of skin.
I look at him in horror, as he shakily in his six year old vocabulary what the fuck happened.
--
The next morning, I was tired. I had stayed up all night washing blood out of Benni's hair, trying to get the mats out, with the help of my older brother. Who was shaken, more so than Benni, but tried not to show it.
Benni took a nap on the couch, his head in my lap. His curls freshly restored as if there had not been blood, and what I had discovered was a sharp tooth.
Barron had called the rangers in the area. No help could be sent. Not until the blizzard cleared out. A very, very rare occurrence for Kentucky. Barron makes some hot chocolate and cookies for me and Benni.
How could he stay so calm and collected? It's obvious he had witnessed the same gruesome incident my brother had those two nights. First my mother, then my father. He was seventeen, yes. But still not being able to show how fucking scary it is.
My fifteen year old head ran all over the place. Hoping it was an elaborate prank. Knowing it truly wasn't. All the blood. A sight, Benni and I never forgot.
--
We all reluctantly went to sleep that night. Cuddling close on the couch. One AM comes. The big shadow on the wall. One I recognized to be my brother. His mouth retracted as I bounced up. He growled. Oh my fucking god.
I pulled Benni close to me. I had no idea what to do. What had my brother become?
Before I knew it, I had somehow grabbed my brother and booked it to the car. Unprepared, barely having a permit. Never having driven through such harsh snow conditions. I still turned on the engine, the key left in the hole. Putting the car into drive. And speeding off the edge of the road by the cabin.
I sped for so long. What felt like hours. Benni crying in his blanket. I drove through tears. A sharp pain on my stomach. Blinking the gears away. I made it to the next small city. Somehow making my way to an impressive police station.
--
I never saw Barron again. Scared of him. What he was. What he still is. The police say he was just a child full of a range. A "fucking Ted Bundy", they called him. He was sentenced to a high maximum security prison, for life, no parole. I still have a feeling in my gut, a year later, that the police got the wrong brother.## TLDR Summary:
I had stayed up all night washing blood out of Benni's hair, trying to get the mats out, with the help of my older brother. I still have a feeling in my gut, a year later, that the police got the wrong brother. I wanted to enjoy the rare family time, but it was hard to enjoy when Benni looked like he swallowed a thumbtack. On the way there, telling us extravagant stories about building snowmen, playing hide and seek, shooting water guns by the river, that is currently frozen over. My older brother, Barron, annoyed, not wanting to be away from his gaming set for even a second. Nobody says anything, not even my usually chipper younger brother, Benni. My younger brother, Benni, looked pleased, an opportunity upon him to destroy more property.
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