Snow flurried around her as she stood in silence, frowning at the cabin. The calming quiet of thick, fresh snow, surrounded her.
The footprints were fresh, leading up to the back door. They weren’t hers; she was sure of it. They were far too big.
She glanced down at her feet, inspecting her wellingtons. Puzzled, she looked back at the cabin. Everything looked as she had left it. Shadows from the dying fire inside danced invitingly against the windows, where she’d left her little girl sleeping soundly, in her hunt for more firewood.
Why was the woodshed so far away?
Alice held her breath as she noticed the back door was ajar. Did she leave it like that? Surely not?
She scanned the dark countryside for signs of her husband’s return; his car was nowhere to be seen.
Lifting her foot, she carefully balanced it above one of the unexpected footprints, it was huge compared to hers. She swallowed hard and gripped the bundle of wood as her heart began to race.
She slowly scanned the windows for answers.
Maybe John had come back, perhaps he’d had car trouble? Balancing the wood in one hand, she reached inside her coat pocket and pulled out her phone. No missed calls.
A shiver ran down her spine as she stood frozen in confusion.
Her daughter’s muffled scream broke the heavy silence of the snow-covered countryside.
Her blood ran cold.
Alice dropped the wood onto the soft snow and sprinted towards the door.
About the Creator
Sian N. Clutton
A horror and thriller writer at heart, who's recently decided to take a stab at other genres.
I sincerly hope you find something that either touches your soul or scares your socks off.
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More stories from Sian N. Clutton and writers in Fiction and other communities.
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Ryan lay on his stomach on the living room floor with his legs in the air. Crayon in hand, he focused on adding colour to his best drawing to date. He couldn't wait to show his mother when she returned home, but he had to finish it first. Desperately seeking the full 'wow factor' when he showed her. He knew she would be ever so proud of him, and if he was lucky, it might just gain pride of place on the refrigerator.
By Sian N. Clutton7 months ago in Fiction
There is a Thin Line Between Tears of Sorrow and Tears of Joy
I remember when my mother passed away. After the tears from the initial shock, our family sat in the living room and shared memories. We talked about her love and compassion toward others, the lessons she taught us about honesty, and how she taught us the importance of respecting ourselves and others. Then we started sharing memories that made us smile and eventually, each of us began to relax and tell stories that made us laugh.
By Brenda Mahler6 days ago in Humor
Comments (7)
Yep, you are a horror writer. This was chilling in all the right ways. I cannot wait to read more from you.
💯👌👌👌Sian
Oooo, I wonder what is it? Bigfoot? A skinwalker? A serial killer? Lol. The possibilities are endless! Loved your story!
Well, that escalated quickly! Great buildup!
Great story! Really enjoyed reading this!
Nice suspense buildup! Will there be a part 2?
Oh no! 😮 You can't stop there! 😮 Good luck in the challenge, Sian!