This is an automated archive made by the Lemmit Bot.
The original was posted on /r/nosleep by /u/Fvrdreem on 2024-10-21 14:10:54+00:00.
I never thought I’d be the type to write something like this, but here I am. I don’t know what else to do, and I can’t explain what’s been happening. My wife, Sarah, and I decided to take a trip up to this cabin her family owns. It’s deep in the woods, totally off-grid, the perfect place to disconnect. We figured it’d be a nice escape for a week—just the two of us, no distractions. But now I’m starting to regret it.
Everything was fine at first. The drive up was long and winding, the forest around us dense and untouched. It was peaceful. The cabin itself is old, creaky, but it’s charming in a rustic kind of way. The first night was normal, just a bit chilly, but we lit a fire and huddled under blankets. Sarah seemed happy, laughing and talking about how she used to come here as a kid.
Then the weird stuff started.
It was our second night when I woke up to Sarah whispering. I thought maybe she was talking in her sleep, which she does sometimes, so I didn’t think much of it. But as I sat up, I realized her side of the bed was empty. The door to the cabin was slightly ajar.
I rushed outside, calling her name, panic already creeping in. She was standing just beyond the porch, barefoot in the snow, staring into the woods. Her breath was slow and steady, like she was in a trance.
“Sarah, what the hell are you doing?” I called out.
She turned to look at me, her eyes glassy. “I heard them,” she said softly. “They were calling for me.”
I felt a chill crawl up my spine. “Who was calling you?”
She just pointed toward the tree line. “Them. They’re out there.”
I tried to get her back inside, but she resisted for a second, like she didn’t want to leave. Eventually, she let me pull her back into the cabin, but she didn’t say much after that. She just kept staring out the window, like she was waiting for something.
I chalked it up to sleepwalking, maybe a bad dream. We were in the middle of nowhere, and the wind howling through the trees could sound like anything in the dead of night.
But it got worse.
Every night since then, she’s been waking up and going to the window. She stands there for hours, whispering to…something. When I ask her what she’s doing, she says, “They’re getting closer.” I’ll try to wake her fully, and she’ll snap out of it, but I can’t shake the feeling that she isn’t really herself. There’s this distant look in her eyes, like part of her mind is somewhere else.
Last night, though, was the worst.
I woke up in the middle of the night to the sound of voices—dozens of them, maybe more. They were faint, like they were coming from the woods, but they were unmistakable. Men, women, children, all talking at once in hushed tones. I couldn’t make out what they were saying, but I could feel it—like they were watching us.
Sarah wasn’t in bed.
I found her outside again, further into the trees this time. She was standing with her back to me, still as a statue, surrounded by tracks in the snow. Except, there was something wrong with the tracks. They weren’t hers. They circled around her, leading away into the darkness, but none of them matched her boots—or any boots, for that matter. They were small, like bare feet, but twisted, misshapen, and some looked like they had too many toes.
I ran to her, but before I could say anything, she whispered, “They’re here.”
Suddenly, I felt like I was being watched from every direction. My skin prickled, and I swear I saw something move between the trees—something low to the ground, crawling.
I dragged Sarah back inside, locked the door, and shut every window. I don’t know what’s going on, but I’m scared. Sarah’s barely speaking to me now, and when she does, she just mutters about “them” coming for her. I don’t know if she’s sleepwalking or if there’s really something out there.
The worst part? I keep hearing whispers when she’s not around. Soft, barely audible, but they’re there. They’re out there.
We’re supposed to be here for a few more days, but I don’t know if we’re going to make it that long. Something is wrong with my wife—or maybe this place. Either way, I feel like we’re not alone. I don’t know what to do. Should we leave?
Please, has anyone experienced something like this before? Am I losing my mind?