The Cabin


"Well what do you think?"


A lot of thoughts passed through my mind as I climbed out of the driver's seat of my black, 2018 Jaguar. An eyeful of cabin before me. Or rather I should say... an eyesore of cabin. I felt as though I were staring onward at the opening of a scary movie. A film in which both Abigail and myself, die horrible, torturous deaths. At the hands of inbred backwoodsmen, deranged psycho killers in masks or evil spirits, trying to swallow our souls. Really take your pick on that one. All the aforementioned scenarios, flashed through my mind in a straight succession. Shutting the car door I tried to put on a brave face but all I kept thinking was... I don't want to get raped by trees. To make matters worse, the place looked like a total shithole. An honest to god, dilapidated crapshack. The thing of nightmares. I was fairly certain I was going to find that plumbing was not a real factor in this place. That would only add to the terrors that I was beholding. Tenfold. Nothing like taking a crap in the pitch black forest to really put the fear in you.


This was where Abbie and I were going to stay for two days. Isn't that fantastic? Seriously, isn't that simply punch your balls off amazing? I certainly thought so and yes, if you couldn't tell this is intense sarcasm. The last thing in the world that I wanted to commit to was staying here. How the hell did Abigail convince me that camping was a good idea? A brief glance downward, answered my question. Sights momentarily placed on the ring, encircling my finger. On the whim of a split second decision, I had not only proposed to Abigail but I also talked her into getting married as soon as possible. I know, real romantic, right? City hall marriage. Something about the promise of all the stress that a big wedding would most definitely instill in Abbie and thus by default... myself, didn't really appeal to me and I explained this in great detail to her. Lo and behold my words actually did the trick. She saw things from my perspective and several hours later, we were married. With the catch that afterwards, we would do whatever she wanted to do.


Camping. In the woods. That's what she wanted. Oh but don't worry, her family owned a cabin. Of course they did. Why wouldn't they own one of those? We could stay there, it would be quite intimate and charming. "Sure, my love whatever you want, I'm all for it." That was my immediate response as soon as Abigail suggested it. To be fair I was caught in the moment and a bit starry eyed. She had a way of doing that to me. Catching me in the throes of passion. However, in that precise instant as I stood in front of the cabin, basking in all its horrendous, backcountry beauty, I wondered what my wife was on. Seriously, it must have been something hella strong, if she thought this was a picturesque, honeymoon dream. On the real, this wasn't where people went after they got married, not unless they also agreed upon some sort of suicide pact as well. Oh honey, the tedious aspect of life is so dull and boring, lets go out to a cabin in the woods and get slaughtered by cannibalistic hillfolk.


Still, this is what Abbie really wanted, her voice was so hopeful and happy sounding, when she inquired about my opinion too. I couldn't be an asshole and stomp on her cheerful idealism. No, I would have to make the best of things, and be optimistic. For Abigail. I should have realized this would be the type of thing that she was into. Stepping out into nature, experiencing and exploring the great outdoors. She's always been sort of tomboyish and I understood that from the beginning of our relationship. After all, I did meet her when she came to my apartment, on the premise of her being a plumber that was there to fix my pipes. Heh. Little did I know she'd wind up taking care of a different plumbing issue. Not right off the bat, it took a couple of dates but she really proved that her pipe work skills, were unparalleled. Flash forward and now here we were, the mother of my son and wife, persuaded me to go camping. Standing in front of a house of horrors that she hoped to sway me to stay in, I couldn't really piece together the proper words. All I could do was slap on a smile as I looked at her from over the sunglasses, that I slid down a tad on my nose and say.


"Looks great, babe."


The words still held a tinge of derision despite my attempt to hold it back. Abigail picked up on it right away and rolled her eyes.


"It's not that bad. Come have a look."


She traipsed over to me and took hold of my hand, pulling me along behind her as she walked up to the front door. Keys quickly in the grasp of her free hand, Abigail opened the door and switched on the lights. At least, she attempted to do that but when she flipped the switch... surprise, surprise, nothing happened. With a laugh, she shook her head, like that was normal. Oh I had a real bad feeling about what I was going to hear next.


"Hah! I forgot, the generator needs to be turned on."


There it was.


"Where's that?"


I asked feeling nothing but dread.


"In the cellar."


Naturally. Who called that? I sure did. It was either that or it was going to be located in a creepy tool shed out back. Right next to the outhouse and a well that a little girl got tossed in and drowned, for being possessed with supernatural forces.


"You can take care of that, right?"


Oh, absolutely. While I'm down there, I'll make sure to grab the necronomicon, kandarian dagger and old school, reel to reel, tape recorder, loaded up with the recanting of Professor Raymond Knowby's findings too. Klaatu barada nikto, all!


"Yeah, of course I can, should be no problem."


That time there was zero hints of sarcasm. I smiled, pulled Abigail towards me and kissed her like I wasn't standing inside a horrifying house of terrors, located in the middle of nowhere. No joke. We had to travel through a billion miles (an exaggeration but that's what it definitely felt like, from my perspective) of treacherous looking woodlands, in order to turn down a dirt road, that I wouldn't have spotted in a million years, if Abigail didn't point it out to me. After which, it was still another several hundred feet, before we arrived at the front of this place. All things that should have been signs to turn around but instead, I kept driving cause I'm a love struck idiot. That is a true fact and a reality.


"Let me show you around first."


"Okay."


From there, Abbie proceeded to pull me about the cabin, excitedly pointing everything out and explaining the history of it all. Whilst splicing in stories from her youth, involving the cabin. Alright. I guess if she survived multiple occasions of being here. The chances of us doing the same thing was possible. Still doesn't erase the fact that this place was creepy and an ominous vision fit to haunt your dreams for years to come.


Once the tour ended, she looked at me with expectation and I ventured into the cellar. Via a hatch in the floor. Very Evil Dead like. So much so, it wasn't even funny. While I did this I held a lighter out - my only source of illumination in the dank... dark... cold basement, as I traveled onward to the generator. Starting it was rather easy and when it kicked on, the place was instantly lit up. Well, the upper portion of the cabin was... down in the basement, all I got was a single light bulb that immediately blew as soon as it turned on. Perfectly accenting the already foreboding vibe. I didn't stay down there a minute longer to see if I could discover any cursed artifacts, opting to rush up the stairs instead. Someone else would have to summon ancient evils. I intended to survive this little adventure and then, never attempt a trip like this again.


The rest of the day went by fine. Without a hitch or trouble at all. Abigail and I enjoyed a meal, followed by some of the best "dessert" I've ever had. We're talking a gymnastic quality production that completely made me forget that I was on the set of a spooky movie. Any and all previous complaints or issues that plagued my thoughts vanished as well. Poof. My mind was cleared of all concerns and soon I swiftly found myself overtaken by slumber.


Probably about two to three hours, after I had fallen asleep, I was abruptly awoken. From somewhere outside, I heard the distinct sound of murmurs or whispers in the night. Accompanied by the crunch of leaves and the snap of twigs, breaking below feet. Ignoring the noises wasn't an option either because several seconds after I woke up, so did Abigail. Startled from sleep, she gazed at me with frightened eyes and I responded by reassuring her with a kiss and a promise of investigating the situation.


No shit, I said that, there's no way I could roll over and go back to sleep with those sorts of shenanigans going on. These circumstances might be chilling and eerie as fuck but I'm no pussy. In spite of my earlier internal protests and objections, something was going on and I intended to handle whatever it was. Like a man. Who thankfully was gifted with amazing abilities. Nothing supplies courage, like being able to slightly wave your hand and send folks flying.


I rose to my feet, threw on pants and a t-shirt and went to the front door. Swiftly swinging it open, I was greeted with an unnerving, sinister sight.

---

"Driving Miss Crazy!"


"Yeah, I know you made up your own version of the word 'crazy' but since I'm not a total fucking crackpot, I won't be employing it."


"Today! I will be speaking on your first promotional video, I know you released two but right now, I'll only mention the first. My, my... you had an awful lot to say too. Well, if you wanted to record something showcasing how nuts an individual can sound, you succeeded. Congratulations. All those wild accusations and false statements. No matter how loud and fast you speak them, that won't ever make them true. Just ask Peter Gilmour, that's the exact same logic that he uses. Everyday. Never does it help him either. No. That's why everyone... and I mean everyone, views him as a joke and an imbecile. Word on the street says he's looking for a new manager though, maybe you can fill that void. Seeing how much you seem to have in common with him. What with you both being brain addled morons. Oh but don't take my word for it, allow me to show you..."


The following plays from Donovan's cell phone, for all to hear.

Quote:there is NOW WAY I am jobbing out to some dude named Donovan Fucktard

Quote:SHIT UP, ROXY! NOT HELPING!

Quote:And you’ll laugh, and the crowd with jeer

Quote:listening to My Chemical Romance with hand hand jerking your 4-incher

With a smirk, Donovan silences his phone.


"You might believe I'm singing... I'm not okay, but are you okay? Were you drunk when you recorded your promo or experiencing several small strokes? Those aren't even all the examples! Hey did you really come up with your own variation of the word crazy or was that the only slip in speaking that you caught yourself committing? Oh but you tried your best to cover it up, didn't you? Ha! And I'm the fucktard. Yeah, right. Totes a legit statement to make. Damn. If I'm a fucktard, what the heck are you? Oh I know, Peter Gilmour's new manager. Oh my god! You two are going to look so cute together! I'm picturing matching helmets. You know, so you and Peter don't break your brains any further than they already seem to be broken, when you stumble and fall down."


"The simple minded statements don't end there. Oh no, we really must dissect your rationale and reasoning, to get a complete picture of that. Lets see, where to begin? Hmmmm... I know!"


"Saying that you're unique, while declaring that my brothers and I are cut by the same exact cookie cutter. Awww... sad face. You think my brothers and I are the same. Never mind the fact that we look different. Being fraternal triplets, means that we aren't identical. Have distinct powers, styles of dress and like you guessed it, personalities. Oh wow. You were mocking but somehow, got that last part right. Incredible. Meanwhile, your version of being unique, sounds like almost every trendy dumbass, with a camera and a youtube account. College kids everywhere could make a drinking game out of how many times you use hip internet lingo and get totally hammered. Maybe even become stricken with alcohol poisoning, depending on how much of a lush they are. Yet you're the singular, noteworthy wrestler in the company. Hey, maybe you and Vita Valenteen, can make a vlog together and debate that point sometime."


"Moving on..."


"To your comment about my videos. Apparently, I stand in front of a mirror, use time machines and rub genie lamps? Yeah, there was a video released, where I stood in front of a mirror. Back in September of last year. On the public access network that we were forced to use, when our current television network canceled the production of all our videos and wrestling programs, for a short period of time. Way to reference something that happened five months ago. Like it's a common occurrence. At least you mentioned an event that happened, unlike your other claims. Guess you owe me five bucks, huh?"


"Okay. Real question here. What's with all the My Chemical Romance talk, like they're my favorite band? Never have I ever mentioned liking them, let alone speak their name. This must be another wild, outlandish theory of yours, like the one you made about my promotional videos, right? A hypothesis made with no real truth behind it. You can't even say that I look like I must listen to them. Nothing about my wardrobe screams emo. My fashion sense is elite and fits my marvelous physique, with perfection. I wear tailor made, designer suits, not clothes sold by Hot Topic. I've also never worn eyeliner, a day in my life. I suppose that was merely your clever imagination, getting the best of you again."


"Much like what happened when you described your version of what will go down on Saturday Night Savage. Alas, similar to your other false claims, your narrative couldn't be further from the truth. I'll saunter down to the ring, alright but that's where your prediction ends. While I'm certain that you've had other men try to intimidate you, with that lame tactic you mentioned, I don't feel the need to do such a thing. My amazing wrestling skills and extraordinary abilities, are more than enough to use to pull off that trick, while demonstrating to the world, which of us is the dominant force to be reckoned with. I'm pretty sure that you'll go for the low blow regardless of what I do, so thanks for the heads up, I'll make sure to wear a cup. Thus thwarting your pathetic attempt at bringing me down. An attack that almost every female resorts to using. Oh but you're sooooooo unique. Sure. Whatever you say, sweetheart."


"Here's what's really going to happen. We're going to meet in the ring and you're going to get the shit kicked out of you. Silencing your shitty predictions, whilst simultaneously putting you in your place. You want to believe that you're outstanding and that's okay, everyone should think they're special. Motivation is a good thing to have. Except you went too far, claiming that you're better than me. Please. You're so below my level, it's not even funny. I am light years beyond you, little girl. I surpass you in every way possible. You're like a can of Spam, saying that you're tastier than filet mignon. You can say it all you want but it doesn't make the words true. Exactly like your glorified description of your wrestling abilities. You can say that you're skills transcend mine but that doesn't mean they really do and come this Saturday, you're going to find that out first hand. When I beat you and advance to the next round in the tournament. Awww... big frown. Maybe you'll get booked in a fight on the following Saturday, despite utterly failing. Then, you can see what being amazeballs, really is. As you watch me continue to destroy the competition. Remember to take notes."

Donovan Blackwater
Former 1x...