Humanities weakness.
You make a split-second decision—you have to hide. There’s no way you can fight whatever is in here with you.
Heart hammering, you slide off the bed as quietly as possible, clutching your rifle. Your eyes dart around the dimly lit room. The closet. It’s the only real hiding spot. You shuffle toward it, moving as silently as you can, forcing yourself to breathe through your nose.
Creak.
The sound is just outside the door now.
You slip into the closet, carefully pulling the door shut just enough to leave a crack for visibility. The cabin is deadly silent. The only thing you hear is your own pulse pounding in your ears.
Then, the bedroom door bursts open.
Through the thin gap, you see it—a towering figure ducking under the doorframe. Nine feet tall, skin an unnatural shade of blue, muscles rippling beneath its grotesque, scarred flesh. Its face is elongated, with rows of jagged, needle-like teeth stretching past its lips. Deep, hollow sockets where eyes should be. Yet somehow, you feel it staring directly at you.
It sniffs the air, long, labored breaths rattling its chest. It knows you’re here.
You press your back against the wooden closet wall, rifle shaking in your hands. Maybe if you stay still, maybe if you don’t make a single noise—
Suddenly, the entire closet is ripped from the wall.
Splinters explode around you as the monster tears the closet door clean off, dragging you into the open with a single clawed hand. You barely have time to scream before it grabs you by the throat, hoisting you into the air.
Then it squeezes.
Your windpipe crushes instantly, a sharp burst of pain shooting through your neck. You claw desperately at its massive fingers, but it’s like trying to pry apart steel bars. Your legs kick wildly, your vision darkening as oxygen is cut off.
But it’s not done.
With a sickening crunch, it hurls you against the ceiling. Your spine snaps on impact, and before you can even register the pain, you’re slammed back down onto the floor.
Your broken body convulses, blood trickling from your mouth as the monster looms over you. It’s playing with you.
Then, it lifts its massive foot—and stomps down.
Your ribs collapse inward, organs bursting under the sheer force. The pressure alone makes your eyes bulge, a final, mangled gurgle escaping your throat before your skull is the last thing to be crushed beneath its weight.
Then, silence.
The beast lingers for a moment, tilting its head as if admiring its work. Then, it lumbers back into the cold, leaving nothing behind but a twisted, bloodied smear where you once lay.
Heart hammering, you slide off the bed as quietly as possible, clutching your rifle. Your eyes dart around the dimly lit room. The closet. It’s the only real hiding spot. You shuffle toward it, moving as silently as you can, forcing yourself to breathe through your nose.
Creak.
The sound is just outside the door now.
You slip into the closet, carefully pulling the door shut just enough to leave a crack for visibility. The cabin is deadly silent. The only thing you hear is your own pulse pounding in your ears.
Then, the bedroom door bursts open.
Through the thin gap, you see it—a towering figure ducking under the doorframe. Nine feet tall, skin an unnatural shade of blue, muscles rippling beneath its grotesque, scarred flesh. Its face is elongated, with rows of jagged, needle-like teeth stretching past its lips. Deep, hollow sockets where eyes should be. Yet somehow, you feel it staring directly at you.
It sniffs the air, long, labored breaths rattling its chest. It knows you’re here.
You press your back against the wooden closet wall, rifle shaking in your hands. Maybe if you stay still, maybe if you don’t make a single noise—
Suddenly, the entire closet is ripped from the wall.
Splinters explode around you as the monster tears the closet door clean off, dragging you into the open with a single clawed hand. You barely have time to scream before it grabs you by the throat, hoisting you into the air.
Then it squeezes.
Your windpipe crushes instantly, a sharp burst of pain shooting through your neck. You claw desperately at its massive fingers, but it’s like trying to pry apart steel bars. Your legs kick wildly, your vision darkening as oxygen is cut off.
But it’s not done.
With a sickening crunch, it hurls you against the ceiling. Your spine snaps on impact, and before you can even register the pain, you’re slammed back down onto the floor.
Your broken body convulses, blood trickling from your mouth as the monster looms over you. It’s playing with you.
Then, it lifts its massive foot—and stomps down.
Your ribs collapse inward, organs bursting under the sheer force. The pressure alone makes your eyes bulge, a final, mangled gurgle escaping your throat before your skull is the last thing to be crushed beneath its weight.
Then, silence.
The beast lingers for a moment, tilting its head as if admiring its work. Then, it lumbers back into the cold, leaving nothing behind but a twisted, bloodied smear where you once lay.
