The Night Cabin A novel

Richard Kenny Lowe, an English teacher from Louisiana, senses something is wrong at Harold Cabin, a place where several murders happened a decade ago back in the summer of 2008. When he spends his vacation there, he feels his sanity slipping towards madness.


2. The Cabin-Part Two


August 4, 1973

The ominous cabin looked menacing.

Sara W. Young opened the door of her 1971 blue Mazda. She shivered in the warm sun, as she looked around at Vickie Travis, her friend. "Isn't it wonderful?", she asked her. "It's creepy", Vickie answered her. The gargoyle statues hovered about her. "I reminds me of The Black Hooded Man story", Sara said. Vickie watched her friend. "What about him?", she asked her. "He was a madman. Whoever went inside here, died at the hands of him. He used butcher knives to kill his captors. They died before either of them could escape in the dark rooms", Sara answered her. She saw the black coloured ​WELCOME ​mat that was to the front door. Sara, who twenty, was a hippy girl. She had left home at eighteen, as the protestors against the Nixon Government wanted him out of office; she was nervous. And now she opened the front door. And went inside...unaware of the terror that was inside the cabin.


"Don't go inside", Vickie said. She had heard from her friends about the murders from Tanya Richards and her boyfriend, Anson Loans. They were the star cheerleader and quarterback in Louisiana back in the late nineteen sixties, early nineteen seventies. When she heard they'd had died back in August of nineteen sixty-nine by an unknown killer, their deaths sparked a chaotic sense of brutal reality that suffered for a long time to come.


Vickie was nineteen. She was a girl who went from town to town as a drifter. She knew her parents, Mary and Tom, were dead five year's ago during Christmas of nineteen sixty-eight when a thief broke into their Minnesota house during a violent robbery. Their deaths shattered Vickie. And, when she met Sara, everything changed. That was in January of nineteen seventy-one. She knew she was afraid of death; death was something real...very real. "Where's the owners?", Vickie asked. "They're out of town. I have the keys", Sara said. She flicked on the bright lights; she glided down the red coloured carpet with her shoes. "It's cold​", Vickie said. She hated the snow that was falling. She watched Sara flick on the lights. Suddenly the generators were working. "Now we'll be warm". And she placed the keys on the left shelf, and waited for Vickie to follow her down the eerie hallway that led to the other room where the murders happened.


"The killer was known as 'The Black Hooded Man'. He was on the loose in the early to mid nineteen sixties in Louisiana. The cabin was out of the way in the deep bayous. The police couldn't find him because he was away a lot", Sara told Vickie. "Why are we here?", Vickie asked her. "We're waiting for him to come back", she answered her. "I don't want to die", Vickie said. She shivered. Then, as she heard the creaking of the door. Before either of them could do anything, the Black Hooded Man gripped his butcher knife...and slashed across Sara's left hand. As she screamed, her body thudded to the hard ground in the darkness...and was still as a statue. Vickie yelled in fright, and ran away. She felt her heart beat faster. Then, as she opened the front door, the Black Hooded Man gripped his bloody butcher knife, and raised it above his head...and brought it downward.

Page 2.

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