The remote position

Plot A group of people are trapped in a remote position, similar as a cabin in the forestland, where they're stalked by a killer.

The five musketeers, Emily, Jack, Olivia, Ryan, and Zoe, had decided to take a weekend trip to a remote cabin in the forestland. It was supposed to be a fun, relaxing flight from the stresses of everyday life. But they snappily realized that commodity was veritably wrong.

The cabin was insulated and girdled by thick timber, with no neighbors or cell phone event for long hauls around. As soon as they arrived, they felt like they were being watched. It was as if commodity minatory lurked just beyond the tree line, staying for them to let their guard down.

That night, they gathered around the fireplace and cracked open a many beers, trying to ignore the creepy feeling that hung over the cabin. But as the night wore on, they heard strange noises coming from outdoors. It sounded like steps, heavy and deliberate, pacing back and forth.

Ryan, the bold of the group, decided to probe. He seized a flashlight and went outdoors, trying to track down the source of the noise. The others waited anxiously outside, harkening to the sound of his steps growing fainter and fainter.

Suddenly, they heard Ryan scream. It was a blood- curdling sound, full of terror and pain. The others rushed outdoors, but they could not see anything in the darkness. They called out to Ryan, but there was no response.

Emily suggested they lock the doors and windows and stay until morning to probe further, but it was too late. They heard a heavy thud against the frontal door, followed by the sound of scratching and scraping. They knew that someone or commodity was trying to get in.

fear set in as they realized they were trapped. They huddled together in the living room, trying to stay quiet and not attract attention. But the scratching and thumping continued, getting louder and more aggressive.

Suddenly, they heard a crash from one of the aft windows. They all jumped up and ran to the reverse of the cabin, hoping to find a way out. But they were too late. They saw a figure zipping into the forestland, silhouetted by the moonlight. It was a man, altitudinous and muscular, with a crazed look in his eyes.

The group knew they had to act presto. They seized whatever munitions they could find, a many kitchens’ shanks

and a fire poker, and went after the man. They followed him into the forestland, hoping to catch him off guard and subdue him.

But they were no match for his strength and dexterity. He sounded to evaporate into the murk, riding them with his horselaugh and occasional casts of his face. They were lost and disoriented, stumbling over roots and jewels, and it was only a matter of time before the killer caught up to them.

One by one, the group fell, their bodies left lying in the dirt and leaves. Emily was the last one standing, her heart pounding in her casket. She knew she had to keep moving, keep fighting, indeed though the odds were against her.

But it was no use. The killer was too important, too presto. He surfaced from the murk, applying a bloody cutter, and dived at her. Emily tried to fight back, swinging the fire poker with all her might, but it was too late.

The last thing Emily saw was the killer's face, twisted into a satanic grin. And also, there was nothing but darkness.

When Emily opened her eyes, she set up herself back at the cabin. It was as if the whole thing had been an agony, a terrible dream that had noway really happed. But as she looked around, she realized that commodity was different.

The cabin was pristine, pristine. There was no substantiation of the struggle that had taken place just hours ahead. The cabinetwork was back in place, the windows were complete, and there was no sign of blood or violence.

Emily stumbled outdoors, feeling disoriented and confused. She saw the thick timber girding the cabin, the trees stretching up towards the sky. But there was commodity strange about them, commodity that made her skin bottleneck.

The trees were twisted and gnarled, their branches reaching out like gnarled fritters. The leaves rustled ominously in the wind, bruiting secrets and curses that Emily could not understand. It was as if the timber itself was alive, and it was watching her every move.

Emily knew she had to get out of there. She did not know how or why, but she knew that commodity evil lurked in those forestlands, commodity that was far beyond her understanding. She ran towards the auto, hoping to escape before it was too late.

But as she got closer, she saw commodity that made her stop dead in her tracks. There, sitting in the motorist's seat, was the killer. He was beaming at her, his eyes full of madness and malignancy.

Emily turned and ran back towards the cabin, but the door was locked. She pounded on it, screaming for help, but there was no bone

there to hear her. The killer was getting near, his steps growing louder and more menacing.

Emily backed down, her heart pounding in her casket. She knew she was trapped, with no way out. The killer was right behind her, his hand reaching out to snare her.

And also, suddenly, Emily woke up. She was back in her own bed, her heart racing with fear. It had all been an agony, a terrible dream that had noway really happed.

But as she sat up and looked around, she realized that commodity was different. The murk sounded darker, the air colder. And when she looked out the window, she saw the same crooked trees, the same creepy timber that had visited her dream.

Emily knew that she could not shake the feeling that commodity was watching her, staying for her in the darkness. She knew that the agony was far from over, and