D3ad Cabin is a 500-word, horror/camp flash fiction, slasher piece.
Content Warnings: Blood, death, and violence.
She could have been something made of the earth or some nature goddess with all the twigs and leaves jutting from her blond hair and dirt smeared over her body like a pastoral clearing, soil combined with blood. She breathed with a sort of franticness of a captured animal, and she was. She burst into cabin D3 and leaped over one of the beds with an unskilled and haphazard distress, tripping and knocking things over until she was on the other side. She opened a large armoire against the back wall and jumped inside of the wooden shelter and closed the doors behind her. There were thin slats in the door from which she watched the dark world outside, and her tear-struck eyes shone with the faint moonlight that entered the cabin, a moon that was much farther away now—a moon she was uncertain she’d see again. She leaned back as close as she could toward the rear of the armoire, and she felt the cold from outside seeping through the thin cabin walls and the wood behind her.
Grass screamed beneath the feet of the approaching thing, like a million little bones breaking. It stepped inside of cabin D3 with all of the hulking, human-like mass of some botched experiment, and it stood there breathing through a mask derived of things and people he’d already dismantled—all of her friends and fellow camp counselors.
The hunting knife it carried looked small in the brutal and gloved fist of the masked creature, and he gripped and regripped the blade, which croaked the throaty noise of wet, bloody leather.
The girl prayed silent prayers and all but stopped breathing inside of the armoire as the thing ripped blankets from the bunks and pulled bedframes back and forth like some deranged housekeeper. He broke lamps with animalistic impunity and crushed the shards of glass that resulted, and he seemed to be destroying things already broken again and again until there was nothing. He stopped and stared at the armoire, heaving breaths through the mask, and his red, glossy eyes rolled behind thin, asymmetrical holes carved into the mask's front, and the girl became as small and quiet as she could.
The thing turned and left the cabin before stamping into the night, and an unnatural silence befell the cabin and the world outside; the trees didn’t sway, the wind didn’t blow, the night birds didn’t hoot—there was nothing. She swept her golden hair from her wide eyes and peeked out of a small keyhole in the door of the armoire, but saw nothing. She let out the breath she’d held and fell back against the rear of the armoire once more. She smiled until she winced.
A knife burst through the cabin's thin wall and armoire's slim back, and its violent tip tore into her heart. The thing twisted the knife ninety degrees inside of her and ripped all life from the girl. Her mouth hung open but was too dead for surprise.