Days 0-2 can be read here.

Days 3-5 can be read here.

Days 6-8 can be read here.

Day Nine

I woke up late this morning. Losing a bit of a schedule can’t have helped. I figured I’d be able to wake up at a normal time naturally, but I’m not waking up for anyone. I don’t really have much of an agenda.

More of the roll-out pain au chocolats. I might have overdone it a bit by adding some Nutella to the chocolate sticks. A bit of a goopy mess. Luckily I just have you, dear journal, as the only witness. I guess there’s the skull, but it’s in the back of the cabin on one of the comfy chairs, just in case that nut job from yesterday’s around.

I went out for a bit of a walk. I still had my shopping list from yesterday which had been abandoned after the woman had freaked me out. The path out of the cabin to the road is covered in uneven stone slabs. They were ‘characterful’, I decided. Charming, rather than sloppily made. Casey would have complained about them. 

Someone had cleared off the stones. I hadn’t, and there was snow through yesterday afternoon and the night. It was light, but it’s been settling. I looked around, I didn’t really have any neighbours near enough to do it out of the goodness of their heart.

As I reached the last stone, I saw red smears in the snow next to it. The stone itself had two circles of dead rats, blood spatter making it look like they were a pair of horrific wreaths. The smell of them hit me and I threw up in the snow, just missing the paving slabs.

I tried to regain my composure, looking at the circles of rats. Someone had nailed the tail of each rat to the head of the next. I looked back at the roof of the cabin. Had there been scuttling last night? After a week I’d become acclimated to it. Was someone helping me out by disposing of the rats? Did someone bring the rats here?

A quick lap of the cabin through the snow left me none the wiser. There were no footprints. I widened the circles, trying to see if there were any tracks, if there was a sign of any cabins which I’d not noticed. It was stupid thinking of that, but I wasn’t sure what else to do. I walked up and down the road. They must have come up and down it, avoiding the snow and keeping to the gritted tarmac. 

I grabbed a bin bag and carefully scooped up the horrible wreath.

Day Ten

I got up early to keep an eye on the driveway and see if there was anyone leaving any grim offerings again. I kept the curtains closed, barring a crack to look through.

Of course, I didn’t want to seem paranoid, or like some kind of weird busybody, so I made breakfast like a normal person and ate it while glaring through the sliver of light in the window.

No one was there. No one came out, no new offering of rats was given. Oh, thinking of the rats, I didn’t hear any scratching on the roof. I guess it must have been the ‘offering’ from yesterday instead of a tree branch or something. 

After looking at what I’ve written, I decided I was sounding like a crazy person. This was my Christmas holiday, my retreat from a break-up, from all the duties of life back in the city. I wasn’t going to be scared by phantoms. I pulled my curtains open and looked at the majestic glare of the winter sun on the snow. It was time to go for a walk.

The lake took my breath away the last time I saw it, and was nice and open. I decided to head down there without my camera, just for a walk. I rushed out of the woods by the cabin and slowed down once I reached the fields. I assumed that when the weather was better they’d be filled with farm animals or something. Right now it was just me, following the tracks I’d made in the snow the other day. 

The lake was still gorgeous, but the ice looked thinner. I paced around the side of the lake until I saw the indentations from my feet the other day, and another pair of footprints in the snow and mud. They looked like they were larger boots than mine. I kept going, keeping an eye out ahead of me. There was a dark patch which I realised was the entrance to a cave. Some old cans and a campfire made it look like it was used as a shelter by people walking or having a pit of a party down there. 

The walls had graffiti and markings which looked older than that. I almost stepped in, and that’s when I saw the skull. Not like my stone one in the cabin. Not quite. It was maybe a sheep or goat skull, sat on an old, rotten wooden bench. There were an extra two eyes drawn on it. And it looked at me.

I turned tail and ran back to the cabin, slipping over in the cold mud a couple of times as I made my way up, up and through the fields.

Day Eleven

I woke up early this morning, mainly because of the cold. The place has been toasty for the last… nearly two weeks. God, it hits me sometimes how long I’ve been out here. I admit I’ve been blasting the heat a bit, but it’s been freezing out and it’s not a big place so I don’t feel too bad. I’ve just had a break-up, I can treat myself.

Anyway, this morning was different. The generator mustn’t have been working. I tried to wrap myself tighter in the covers and make myself comfortable despite the cool air. I nodded off for a bit, but then reality hit as I started to hear a dripping noise. It was making me want to go to the loo, but more than that… where was it coming from?

The kitchen, it turns out. The fridge/freezer, more specifically. So that’s been my morning, mopping up the kitchen and seeing what frozen food I can salvage. This afternoon I’ll try to see what’s up with the generator. There’s a problem with being out of the way and this is it. If there’s a rat or a skull or anything else in it, I’m just going to go home. 

>>>

Advent of Abomination is by Black Armada and available here.