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The original was posted on /r/nosleep by /u/thegeneralg on 2023-07-02 02:41:23+00:00.
My fiancé Grace and I went to my family’s cabin at the lake for a long weekend. Built by my grandfather, it had been the sight of countless cookouts, birthdays, campfires, and holidays. Just walking in the front door brought countless memories rushing back. I’d lived in countless houses over the years, but the cabin had always truly felt like home. Probably because it wasn’t like numerous people had moved in and out of the area over the years. There were over a dozen houses within a 5-mile area, and as far as I could tell, they’d all been owned by the same families for decades. Just like mine had. We may have taken the odd vacation when I was younger, but most of the time we came out here. And that was always just fine with me.
It was an average, two-story cabin, but the minute you walked in, you felt instantly comfortable. The numerous windows in the back facing the lake all featured a beautiful view, and there was a cozy screened in porch in front in addition to a glass enclosed patio that held a table and chairs. Past that was a fire ring we had with some outdoor furniture, and a walkway that led to the lake itself. It was a sight that never failed to be invigorating. Today was no exception, with the gentle breeze that accompanied the waves of the lake as they continually splashed against the shoreline. We got settled in, then we had some pasta and garlic bread for dinner, and soon after that we built a fire outside that we ate some fresh baked cookies around. It was beyond peaceful and a perfect evening.
But when we got up the following day, there was a report that a storm was heading our way. That wasn’t a problem. In fact, watching a storm forming over the lake had always been an amazing sight. You can literally feel it in the air when the pressure changes, and it’s an experience like no other. So Grace and I sat comfortably in the deck chairs while the storm winds rolled in later that evening. As the winds whipped through the air and the temperature immediately dropped about 15 degrees, we watched contently as the waves on the lake splashed against the beach and the break walls surrounding the area. Once the rain started to come down in thick waves, we went inside and sat in the patio and watched the storm hit while we had some coffee.
It was an impressive sight. The waves continually slammed against the shore and the rain pounded against the glass in a strong but relaxing rhythm. Eventually, the storm slowly faded, and all was calm, but everything was soaking wet. This was around the time we went to bed.
The next morning, everything was sunny again. When I went out with my morning coffee to look at the sun looming over the lake, I noticed something laying in the sand near the water’s edge. When I went for a closer look, I saw it was either gold or made to look like gold and was shaped like a medallion and had a small gold chain attached to it. I picked it up, and immediately noticed it was heavier than it looked, and it was inscribed with symbols on both sides that I didn’t recognize.
There’d been no shortage of interesting things that had washed up on the beach in all the time I’d spent here. I had no doubt the storm had either stirred something up that had been stuck underwater, or it had fallen off some boat because of the intense winds.
But there was something different about this. Something unique. This wasn’t some souvenir from one of the many shops that lined the route from here to the city. So I took it inside, put it on the patio table, and had cereal for breakfast.
When Grace came downstairs, she saw me sitting at the patio table and smiled. Then she saw the medallion sitting nearby and glanced at it.
“What’s that?”
“I don’t know. It washed up on the beach.”
“From the storm.”
“Right.”
She tilted her head slightly. “Looks mysterious. Like something out of an antiques collection or a museum.”
“I thought the same thing. I’ll see what I can find out when we get back to the city.”
“Good idea.”
After that we took a hike around the local park and came home for lunch. Then we went to the local movie theater and a nearby restaurant for dinner. A place that served some of the best seafood I’ve ever had. Then we went to the ice cream place next door.
By the time we got home, it was getting dark, and fireflies dotted the air along with the other bugs. As usual, the water and the seagulls could be heard in the background as we unlocked the front door and went inside. The two of us got comfortable on the couch, turned on the TV, and settled in for the evening.
At some point about an hour later, I heard a noise. It was small. So small, I wasn’t sure I’d heard it at first. But then I heard another one, and my heart rate slowly picked up. Then I heard voices outside by the garage. Whispering to each other.
That was when fear truly hit me. Voices whispering outside your house at night are never a good sign. Especially when you hear voices followed by the sounds of them breaking into your garage. I could hear the garage door open and close before the footsteps slowly crept closer to where we were in the sitting room.
Grace and I looked at each other for a moment before we ran as quietly as we could to the dining room. Because underneath the dining room table was a trapdoor that led to a storm shelter that doubled as a secret passageway. I’d spent a ton of time down here when I was younger, but I never seriously thought I’d ever hide down here for real. But that’s usually how it goes. Most people think of hide and seek as just a game to play with your friends. But when you’re an adult, the concept can quickly turn into a matter of life or death.
I crawled under the table, carefully pulled at the small rug that hid the trapdoor and tugged it open. I helped Grace climb down into the storm shelter before I joined her. The rug that hid the trapdoor was positioned in a way so that it didn’t move when the trapdoor was opened, so it always hid the entrance to the passage. I had just barely closed it all the way and moved further down into the passage when I heard the door to the garage open. The quiet creaking was somehow more frightening than if it had been kicked open.
Then all was silent for a moment until the smallest sounds of movement followed. Everything seemed eerily quiet. You could hear them moving around upstairs, just a few feet above our heads. I frantically hoped that the hidden storm shelter stayed hidden, and we both tried to keep as quiet as possible.
It was all so surreal. Sitting there in the dark, while strangers were above us and looking for whatever they were here for, almost felt like a dream. The whole situation seemed like it was unfolding around us, and we were simply there watching whatever was going on. How could this be happening? Why could this be happening? Were they looking for us specifically? Or just for whatever valuables they could find? I got a knot in my throat as I thought of the possibility there could be no reason for this at all. All we could do was hide and not draw attention to ourselves.
The space itself went a long way to give me something resembling hope and peace of mind. The space was deep, well insulated, and carefully hidden. We stood there, amongst the storage boxes and cobwebs, trying to be quiet while frantically paying attention to what was going on around us. I listened to every little sound, trying to discern anything that may tell us something about what was going on. My heart was pounding so loud I thought I could hear it, but I forced myself to calm down to focus on what was going on. They didn’t know we were down here, or where we were, but we knew where they were. And that gave us an advantage. So I listened very carefully. And I noticed several things.
The first was that there were three of them. Or at least, that there were three intruders inside our house. There could’ve been more outside, but I suspected there weren’t. Because that would raise the risk that someone would notice them. So three intruders seemed like the best conclusion. But the second thing I noticed was far more frightening.
The longer we were down there, the more I realized something even more chilling than the fact that we had intruders in the house. These intruders seemed to know the cabin. They walked around with a familiarity that was shocking. There were no sounds that suggested frantic searching or hasty movements. There was nothing but controlled, steady, calculated footsteps throughout the house as the intruders moved logically from one room to another, looking for whatever it was they were after. I frantically wracked my brain to figure out how that was possible, ignoring the fear that was creeping through my body the same way the intruders were creeping through the house.
“If they heard us coming, they couldn’t have gotten far. Their car is still out front.” One of the intruders said once they had finished searching the cabin. I knew from listening that there were two of them nearby, and they were standing far too close to the passage entrance for comfort.
“Right. Or they may be at a friend’s house or something. Either way, they’re not here.”
My stomach sank when I heard the voice of the second person standing nearby. I knew that voice. It was James. My colleague from work. The sense of fear that I had tried to ignore exploded with a fury in my gut, making me feel sickened and angry. I had told him about the cabin, and he’d seen pictures of the place from my time her...
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