Summary

A person seeking solitude to cope with grief encounters unsettling occurrences at a remote rental cabin, possibly hinting at the presence of feral humans in the surrounding wilderness.

Abstract

The narrative describes an individual's retreat to a secluded cabin for privacy in processing their grief, only to be confronted with eerie sightings and sounds on the third night, suggesting the presence of human-like figures in the vicinity. With no means of communication and the nearest parking area a distance away, the protagonist faces a harrowing situation as they hear unexplained knocks and whistles, reminiscent of human signals. Recalling a past article about feral men in the mountains who may be seeking wives, the protagonist's fear escalates when both doors of the cabin begin to unlock on their own. The story is part of a challenge by Ann James' Deluded Custodian challenge and is published as part of the "Dead or Alive" series on Medium, with an invitation for readers to contribute their own stories to keep the publication alive.

Opinions

The protagonist values privacy and solitude as essential components of their grieving process.
The protagonist initially views the cabin's isolation as a positive feature, indicating a preference for remote and natural settings over social interactions.
The protagonist dismisses the idea of feral men as an urban legend until faced with inexplicable experiences that align with the myth.
There is a subtle critique of societal responses to grief, as the protagonist resents the superficiality and transience of sympathetic gestures.
The story implies a sense of danger associated with the wilderness, challenging the notion that remote natural areas are inherently peaceful and safe.
The author uses the element of fear to engage readers and contribute to the ongoing narrative series "Dead or Alive."

#252 — DEAD OR ALIVE | NOVEMBER DELUDED CUSTODIANS CHALLENGE

A Week of Solitude

Started out nice, anyway…

**Peaceful rental cabin** — Image created with Stable Diffusion

Complete isolation was exactly what I was looking for. Surrounded by miles of privately owned wilderness, the rental cabin seemed like the perfect space to achieve this.

Not everyone processes grief in the same way, and for me, it’s a private affair. I couldn’t bear to see the contorted sympathetic faces with their “Sorry for your losses” and their “Gone too soons.” Especially since those same faces would be smiling and talking about eyeliner or football a few moments later. Not that I blame them. I’d done the same thing many times.

It was my third night at the cabin. I was sitting on the porch, relaxed by the nocturnal sounds, when I caught sight of a tall shape, passing from one tree to the next.

What was that? Was it real? It looked human.

It wasn’t long before a similar shape caught my eye to the left. And then to the right. Was this the same entity, or were there several?

Unless I was simply imagining things, I was in a precarious situation. There was no landline at the cabin, and I had no cell phone reception. I did have my car, but it was parked further down the gravel road. Seclusion was the main selling point of this cabin, so the owners had purposely built the parking out of sight.

The hosts provided an ATV with a small trailer on the back to bring guests and their supplies from the parking area to the cabin, but I wouldn’t be comfortable driving it at night. With many obstacles in the trail, I had been slow enough in the daytime. I would be better off on foot than attempting to drive that thing at night.

I began to hear knocks and whistles coming from every direction. They didn’t sound like animal sounds. They sounded like human signals.

I was almost paralyzed by fear. But I forced myself to run inside the cabin and lock the door. There was a second door at the back of the house, so I quickly ran to check that one too. It was locked.

I grabbed a heavy frying pan and stood next to the front door with my back against the wall.

A few years ago, I read an article about feral men living in the mountains around here. It seemed silly to me at the time. I couldn’t understand how such a thing could go virtually unnoticed. Much like Bigfoot or The Chupacabra, I figured it was just a myth or an urban legend. Something the kids talk about to scare each other.

I remember the story mentioning an unusually high number of missing women in the area. The author speculated these mountain men were looking for wives.

I could hear more knocks and whistles. They were coming from every side of the house, and they sounded close.

I didn’t think I could be more terrified.

That’s when both doors started to unlock.

I wrote this for the Ann James Deluded Custodian challenge, following the AWC Furious Fiction November rules.

**My new husband** — Image created with Stable Diffusion

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