When a family member dies and leaves you with their cabin out in the middle of Louisiana that no one’s visited in years, you just never know what you are going to find.
You expect the worst, of course. Decaying floors, peeling wallpaper and the smell of mold. You suspect that there will not be much to save and a lot to throw a way. The property is pretty, but the cabin isn’t in the best of shape, you question rather or not it’s worth saving and then make the decision to leave it as is for now.
Or at least, that was what I decided on. I’m 22, single, and an interior designer from San Antonio. My great aunt, whom I haven’t seen since I was eight left me the cabin, why me? I’ll never really know. The lawyer said something about how she had expressed that I was the only one who could ever really appreciate the cabin. Perhaps it’s because I always see the potential in things?
I currently stood on the stone steps that lead up to the modest two bedroom cabin, admiring the wood work of the railings on the porch. If only carpenters had this much talent nowadays. I thought to myself as I stepped up on to the porch, my eyes resting on a trunk that was surely as old as the cabin itself, if not older.
It’s faded green leather was cracked and torn. The sides bared scuff marks, that I only could imagine came from it being kicked by someone in anger. I approached it with caution and attempted to open it only to discover it locked. My nose wrinkled in annoyance before I sighed. “What did you expect, Natalie? I mean really,” I shook my head, and made a mental note to quit talking to myself before I moved to unlock the front door and search the house.
As expected, everything was coated in dust and the once pretty wallpaper was faded and peeling. I stepped cautiously onto the hardwood floors, and drifted towards the desk in the corner, perhaps I could find keys to the trunk in there? After half an hour of searching through rat droppings and torn up paperwork, I gave up my search and moved towards the kitchen instead.
It was here, just beside the light switch that I discovered a set of keys hanging on a hook. “Jackpot!” I did a small dance of excitement before grabbing the keys and walking back to the front porch. I knelt down beside the trunk and began testing out keys till I finally found one that fit. I let the keys dangle a moment as I ran my right hand across the top of the trunk, hoping that maybe there’d be something valuable inside. I took a deep breath, turned the key and carefully lifted the lid.
I screamed, but my scream was silenced by a hand closing around my throat as a body began to unfold itself from inside the trunk. A menacing laugh followed the body as a set of blood shot eyes became level with my own.
“Well, aren’t you pretty.” Through teary eyes, I could just barely make out his other hand reaching up behind me, almost as if he intended to stroke my hair. “But beauty will do me no good.” He hissed just before breaking my neck.
I bolted upright in bed, something between a gasp and a cry escaped my lips as I took in my surroundings. I was alive, I was in my apartment in downtown San Antonio, and there was no sign of the man who I had just seen so vividly in my dreams. I wiped the sweat from my brow and stood up on shaky feet to get a drink of water, but on my way to the bathroom I bumped into something.
“That’s odd,” I flipped on the light switch, blinking several times before my eyes adjusted to the light and looked down, there at my feet was the trunk, the keys dangling from the lock. A note attached to the lid caught my attention, even as I stared at the trunk in horror.
I’ll see you soon, beautiful.