Cabin Fever

• Anika Lustig, Grade 7
• Short Story
• 2018

The frosty grass crunched under my feet like bones, it didn’t help that I was dragging my suitcase behind me in the dark. We were on holiday and staying in a broken down cottage, surrounded by tall trees.

My room was eaten by dust and the floorboards creaked like they wanted to be left alone.
After I get settled, I urge myself to go down stairs. “Bonnie, we were just about to call you for dinner” my mum exclaims, “perfect timing”.
After dinner I get into bed, but I can't sleep. The sheets are stiff like sandpaper and scrape every time I move, the dust is thick in my throat. I don’t remember when I fall asleep.

I jerk myself awake and find I am sitting straight up, sweating and breathing heavily. The floorboards in the kitchen creek. My head fills with curiosity, I breathe deep and reach for the door handle. It creaks open slowly. A black shadow flashes downstairs near the kitchen. I slam the door and scramble for the bed. I drift off and it’s morning again.
The water cools my face, my eyes red as blood and my hair in a mess. I rush down the stairs to the empty lounge.
I go outside and the cool air sends shivers down my spine. It feels like I’m being watched. My dads voice cracks the silence startling me, “what are you doing outside? “ just checking the weather” I lie.

At dinner mum tells me to blow out the candle. I always do it at home. The smoke of the candle trickles into thin air, I watch it dance and flutter until it disappears.
I wash up and I go to bed, reading with the covers pulled up right to my chin. I feel a familiar cold draft.

I wake up at dawn and head downstair where I find the candle burning. The wax drips onto the table as if it’s been burning for a while.” Mum,did you light the candle? “
“No, I just got up,maybe it was dad”. “How about we eat outside today?” I insist, blowing out the candle again...

We finish breakfast and head back into the kitchen where we hear wood crackling. “What’s that noise” asks dad. “Is that fire burning?” mum adds.
“Did you light the fire Bonnie?”
“No, I promise it wasn't me” I reply. Dad puts out the fire.

Sitting in the kitchen we hear a loud bang, we run into the lounge and find the picture frame from the mantle smashed on the floor. In dead silence we look at each other, and then at the door.