The Odd Family's Book of Bedtime Stories

The Hiker

While hiking one night, a young man was disappointed to find that the weather was taking a turn for the worse. It looked like a bad storm was on the way and he had recently gotten a hole in his tent. It was getting dark and he was running out of time to make any other shelter. He knew he would have to improvise. Leaves crunched beneath his feet as he kept trudging on, looking for an answer. The wind whipped around him, and through the trees, growing stronger and stronger as the sky grew darker.

Luckily, he was able to find shelter in the form of an abandoned cabin just as night fell. The hiker could not believe his good fortune. The door to the cabin was unlocked, and all of the furniture was gone. As he entered, he looked around carefully. He wanted to be sure that the cabin was truly abandoned. There was a thick layer of dust and cobwebs throughout the only room. It obviously hadn't been disturbed in years. The only thing that remained from the previous owners were the dark paintings, black squares scattered along each wall of the cabin.

He quickly gathered wood before the rain began to fall and started a small fire in the fireplace to keep him warm. He'd been on the trail for a long time so things like dust and dirt didn't bother him. He spread out his sleeping bag  near the fire and stretched out on top. The rain drummed down on the cabin's tin roof, creating a peaceful sound that normally would have lulled the young man off to sleep. Instead, he found it hard to relax. The paintings were now illuminated in the bright light of the fire. They were different faces, all staring down at him, unblinking and always watching. It was a strange thing to leave behind though he suspected that the owner thought they were creepy as well.

Eventually, the young man fell asleep.

The next morning, he woke up well rested. The fire and its coals had kept the hiker warm throughout the night and the drumming of the rain on the roof kept him asleep. He stretched and yawned, rubbing a hand through his hair and wondering what he would have for breakfast. Before he could even move, he saw it. Footprints covered the dust all around him, footprints that he was certain hadn't been there the night before and were not his own. There were dozens of them in all different sizes but no one in sight. Then he noticed something that chilled him to the bone.

There were no paintings on the walls. Only windows.