"Writers Block"
"Writers Block"
Rain explodes against the window of a top floor apartment in upper Manhattan. Pencils, balled up pieces of paper, and an ash try full of cigarette butts accompany a note pad full of blank pages. On the eastern wall of the complex a medium sized shelf is lined with books from the greatest horror novelists of all time. King, Stoker, Shelly, and even Poe. All the inspiration a writer would need.
The lighting in apartment is dim from the gray skies that loom ominously outside the window, and the fading light bulbs struggling to do their best to illuminate the one bedroom structure. It's a chilly and quiet October day, a type of day that has become all to familiar for Hunter Weston.
Since releasing his New York Times best selling thriller, "The Day the World Ended", Weston has been clawing and scratching to write his next great literary masterpiece. His last novel was released twelve years ago. Ever since his breakthrough into the upper echelon of contemporary authors, Weston has failed to follow up on his success.
Suddenly the quiet home is bursting at the seems with life as Weston aggressively exits the bedroom and makes his way over to the fridge. Following close behind is his wife, Mary, who is doing her best to encourage her struggling husband.
Weston grabs a chilled glass and bottle of whiskey from the freezer and makes his way over to his writing table. The table faces the window that's being bombarded with rain, and overlooks the city crawling with handfuls of people trying to stay dry.
As Weston sits down and begins to flesh out new ideas, his wife hovers over him offering words of encouragement. She kisses him on the top of his head as she warps her arms around him from behind. She gives him some final kind words before leaving to visit her mother for the weekend, expressing her optimism and belief in him.
As she leaves and closes the door behind her a taunting silence engulfs the room. Weston polishes off the whiskey in his glass as he stands up from the table. He pushes in the chair calmly and takes a deep breath, before hurling the glass at the apartment wall. It has been a long twelve year battle of writers block Weston has endured, and he fears he is close to losing the fight.
Weston meanders over to the living room couch, sitting down, and begins to aimlessly flip through the channels on TV. As Weston's eyes begin to feel to heavy to keep open, he beings to drift to sleep. A sudden and deafening bang on his apartment door startles him and interrupts his impending afternoon nap. Figuring it to be his wife who left her set of keys behind, he goes to open the door.
Weston pulls the door open only to find an empty doorway, he steps outside to find the hallway empty as well. He looks in every direction for an answer to what made the noise against his door. As he goes to step back into his home he notices something on his doormat. He bends down to pick it up and examines what it is.
It's a pamphlet with a photo of a cabin on the front page, with the title head reading "The Perfect Getaway" etched above the image. Weston examines the content of the pamphlet thinking someone left it at his door step as joke or to mock his struggles. He takes it down to the front desk clerk to see who brought it up to his apartment.
After the clerk says he didn't know who left it and that no one has come or gone since he start his shift an hour ago, a curious looks comes across Weston's face. He takes the pamphlet and journeys back up to his apartment.
Back in his living room Weston paces back and forth behind the couch. The pamphlet sits on a small glass coffee table between the couch and the TV, starring back at him. Weston stops his movement and takes a long look at the mysterious literature. He walks into his room, backs a bag, and heads out for up state New York.
On his drive to the address that was listed on the pamphlet, that Weston left behind, doubts and thoughts on insecurity cloud his mind. He begins to wonder if this is all and elaborate scheme or the depths to which his desperation for a new idea have sank. He can't decide which is worse.
After the three and a half hour drive is complete, Weston pulls up to a tiny office building on the edge of the woods. He gets out of his car and proceeds to find someone in charge. Weston knocks on the partition of a small office to capture the attention of the park ranger sleeping inside.
Weston tells the ranger that he came across a pamphlet for this place and he was curious to see how much it would be to rent a cabin for the weekend. The ranger tells him that there is no charge as they are all booked up. However, the ranger divulges to Weston that a couple did just call to cancel their reservation. The cabin is stocked and the deposit was non-refundable and he would allow him to stay there for the weekend.
Weston asks why the couple had to cancel but the ranger has no answers. Weston ponders the offer for a brief moment before ultimately accepting. The ranger steps out of the office with a flash light, a set of keys, and a map. He gives Weston the materials and welcomes him to "World's End National Park".
This catches Weston's attention for obvious reasons. He asks about the parks origins and how it got its name. The young ranger says he's not sure and that this place has been around since before he was. He does say however that all the cabins are spread out and isolated in the woods, and that it gets so quiet you would think you were the last man on earth.
Weston takes the items from the ranger and starts to navigate up a dirt trail and into the woods. He walks into the sea of trees and an inescapable feeling of somethings presence lurking in the woods over takes him. It's dusk now and it's getting dark very quickly, Weston takes the flashlight the ranger gave him and puts it to use.
It's been fifteen minutes now and Weston hasn't heard a noise or seen another human since leaving the rangers office. He starts to second guess his decision of staying in this place. It's completely dark now thanks to the dying sun and the vast number of large trees surrounding him. He decides to head back to the park entrance and head back to his home. Suddenly, Weston makes a stomach sinking realization. He somehow wandered off the path in the darkness as he was fixated on the light from his flashlight guiding his way. He's lost now.
Panic sets in and Weston starts to aimlessly wander through the unfamiliar woods. He reaches into his pocket to retrieve the map but feels nothing, it must have fallen out along the way. Another fifteen minutes go by. Weston stops in his tracks and tries to calm himself by taking a few deep breaths.
In...and out. In...and out. In...and out. Then there is nothing but silence. Weston closes his eyes and tries to retrace his steps through his mind. His concentration, and the silence, are broken by the sounds of rustling in the bushes behind him. Startled, Weston does a 180 and points his light into the darkness. He doesn't see anything as he scans over the woods in silence, then the sound of branches breaking come from the direction he was facing previously.
Fearful and desperate Weston makes a beeline in the direction he thought would lead to his cabin. As he is moving he can't help but feel like someone, or something, is following his every move. Weston comes to a halt as the light in his hand catches the reflection of a wind chime just ahead. As he moves closer he realizes he has found his cabin, and is filled with relief.
As Weston steps through the front door of his cabin, he notices all the furnishings that make up the interior. A fully stocked kitchen to his left, a living room with a red and black plaid cushioned couch ahead of him, and a painting hanging over a fire place to his left. He walks around the cabin examining the wooden furniture, stuffed animal head trophies that line walls, and familiarizes himself with the setting. Before making his way into the bedroom to rest, Weston steps out the back door and onto the deck that reveals more of the vast woods.
Weston takes in the cool fresh air before pulling out a cigarette and striking a match. As he inhales and exhales the fumes a calming sense comes over his entire body, for the first time in years his mind feels unburdened and free. Finally a sense of hope for a creative spark that he has longed for gives him a joyful sense of possibility.
As he stands with the cigarette hanging out of his mouth and his hands grasping the railing of the deck, Weston peers out into the woods. Looking far into the darkness, Weston's eyes catch a shadow in the distance. He enters the cabin and grabs the flashlight off the kitchen counter in hopes to reveal what the shadow is hiding in the dark.
When he comes back out and points the light into the woods he finds nothing. When he clicks the light off he is bewildered to see that the shadow seems to be closer than it was before. He quickly turns the light back on only to lose the shadow from his sight once more. This time Weston keeps the light on because he fears what he knows will come next. Hesitantly he clicks the light off and the shadow is now just yards away from the deck.
Weston turns to quickly enter the cabin but as he turns the knob to the back door, he finds himself locked out. He tries desperately to pull the door open to no avail, Weston turns around a points the flashlight out into the dark. The light, he hopes, will keep whatever is lurking in the dark away, until the light in his hand inexplicably goes out. While yelling for the light to come on and smacking the flashlight in hopes to rattle the light free, he looks up to see nothing.
It's hauntingly quiet until Weston hears what sounds like a large figure charging towards the deck. He spins around and once again tries to pull the door open, finally it budges free and Weston scurries into the house. As he enters the cabin he turns to close and lock the back door. Weston, standing in the doorway, is face to face with the shadow, he lets out a shout and slams the door shut while locking it.
As Weston backs away from the door and into the middle of the cabin, he tries to comprehend what he just saw. While doing so a loud bang, like the one he heard back at his apartment, echoes through the cabin from the back door. Acknowledging the sound Weston calls out asking who is there to no answer. The banging continues as Weston cautiously approaches the door, suddenly the loud banging comes from the front door.
Weston runs to the front door ready to confront whatever is outside. As he opens the door the ranger is standing underneath the light from the lantern mounted on the exterior of the cabin. The ranger says he came to check in and see how Weston was settling in. A frantic Weston aggressively asks the ranger if he was the one in the woods in the back of the cabin. The ranger, puzzled and confused, dismisses the claim and says it must have been some animal. Weston eases and agrees sending the ranger on his way, thanking him for the hospitality.
Alone again Weston calms down and plays the ordeal off to his overactive imagination, after years of being bottled up from the writers block. He unpacks and settles in to his new home for the weekend, as the the long Friday comes to an end. Weston spreads out on the soft mattress in the bedroom, he closes his eyes, and drifts to sleep.
On Saturday morning Weston emerges from the bedroom and makes himself breakfast in the cabins kitchen. He mixes eggs, lays out bacon in a pan placing it on the stove, puts bread into the toaster, and finally brews a pot of coffee. Weston takes his meal to the dining room table, opens his laptop, and enjoys his morning.
After finishing his meal Weston prepares to shut himself inside the cabin, locked away from the rest of the world. He is confident that if he cuts himself off from any distractions and has a twenty-four hour period committed to forming his perfect idea that he will finally have the breakthrough that he has been craving for so long. He draws curtains over all the windows in the cabin, unhooks the land-line from the jack, takes the battery out of his cellphone, and disconnects the internet connection. He locks and dead-bolts both the front and back door, he is completely isolated.
Weston spends the next few hours brain storming and reading through some of his old notes that he brought with him. He scans over the pages searching for a solution or an idea that he thought wasn't right at the time. He pours himself some whiskey and pulls out his cigarettes, the tobacco and alcohol loosen his inhibitions and allow him to write without a sense of self criticism.
Some time passes and the more he drinks the more his ideas start to develop, still there is something that is missing. He sets down is pen and paper and goes over to the sink to splash some water in his face. He glances at his watch and notices it's nearly five o'clock, he's been feverishly working all day. He goes outside for the first time to get some air and grab some logs to build a fire. He knows the long night that is ahead of him.
As we walks around to the side of the cabin to pulls some logs from a neatly organized stack, he notices the dense for that has inhabited the woods. The setting suns struggling to peer through the mass tree tops gives the environment around him an eerie dim hue. He grabs four or five logs and places his arms beneath them to carry the pile inside.
As he is walking back to the front door a sudden low pitched scream in the distance startles Weston causing him to drop the lumber. The noise is far and lost among the fog and trees, but it's tone is undeniable. Weston stands in the door way for a minute waiting for another outcry. He stands with the firewood at his feet before bending over to collect his belongings. After hearing not another sound, aside from the damp October wind pushing the leaves across the floor of the woods, he goes back inside.
It starts to rain.
Weston can hear the pellets of water gently tapping against the roof of the cabin, it's oddly calming. He puts the wood into the fire place and a sets the pile ablaze. Stoking the fire Weston, on one knee, gets the height of the flames to his liking before retreating to the couch.
A quick flash of lightning sneaks its way through the crack in the curtains, followed by a distance rumble of thunder.
Helping himself to another glass of whiskey, Weston prepares himself some supper before returning to his work. He puts the battery back into his cell phone in an attempt to check on his wife, but notices the imminent storm has block the service to his device. He goes and plugs the jack back into the wall for the land line, but suspiciously as soon as he does the phone rings.
Starring at the phone Weston contemplates whether or not to answer it, ultimately he does. He puts his ear to the phone as says hello, there is no answer. He asks a final time, all the while hearing nothing, before hanging up. As he does a faint voice from behind him struggles to say,"He's coming,". Weston spins around and demands to know who said the words.
He walks up to one of the deer heads hanging on the wall and stares into the dead animals eyes, before his spell is broken by the ringing phone once again. He runs over to answer it but once again is greeted by nothing but white noise. As he puts the phone down another voice warns from within the walls of the cabin,"Hide he's almost here,".
Weston looks up and sees that all the trophy heads of the dead animal now appear to be turned and looking straight at him. Feeling uneasy he goes to rest on the couch. As he tries to relax he warms himself by the fire as the approaching storm gains even more strength.
Sitting on the couch finishing his beverage, Weston notices something in the painting above the fire place. The picture shows an image of a large building nestled in between the trees of the woods with people standing scattered around the exterior of the building. He walks up to get a better look at the particular detail that caught his attention.
Etched about the doorway of the building is a small sign, he couldn't tell for sure what it said before he walked up right in front of the painting. The words reveal, "World's End Asylum". A strange feeling comes over Weston as he examines the rest of the painting. He makes eye contact with what looks like a little girl who is sitting on a bench next to a garden outside of the building. He leans in and admires the incredible detail of which the child's face was painted with. While looking at her the image comes to life and whispers "run" directly at Weston.
Frightened Weston drops his glass shattering it and stumbles backwards away from the painting falling over the small table between him and the couch. He isn't sure if the whiskey and his imagination are playing tricks on him but nonetheless he is confident what just transpired really happened.
He goes over to his laptop and tries to bring up the internet, after resetting the connection he is able to get on the web. He googles the name of the asylum in the painting bringing up a few pages of results. As he reads about what he's found, he learns that the area where this park has been built was home of the countries largest insane asylum during the 1800's.
However, Weston learns it was shut down when it was discovered that the doctors and orderlies of the establishment were part of a satanic cult and had been experimenting on the patients sent to the asylum. Tales of human sacrifice, demonic possession, and black magic spread through the small surrounding colony located near the asylum.
An urban legend claimed that the head doctor of the asylum barricaded himself inside the walls of the asylum and continued to practice whatever black magic was happening behind the closed doors. One day a group of children went to explore the old and abandoned building. However, once they went inside they were never seen again. The tale claims that when the people of the colony went searching for the lost kids they saw a shadow through the glassless windows of the asylum moving throughout the building. As the search for the kids was fruitless they came to the conclusion the doctor had murder them. They tried to enter the building to confront him and confirm their fears but the doors would not budge. With no other option remaining they set the asylum ablaze burning down the structure, with the doctor, they had hoped, inside.
Before Weston can finish reading the myth or do any more research on the area he was staying in, the storm outside knocks the power out. He is left in the dark with only the flames from the fire place serving as his source of light. Then inexplicably the phone rings again.
Weston cautiously answers the phone and says hello, the park ranger is on the other end. He ask Weston if he has seen any of the other guests wandering around the park today, to which he replies no. The ranger informs him that he has checked in on almost all the other cabins and that all the other guest were nowhere to be found.
Before the ranger can divulge anymore he says to Weston that someone is knocking on his office door. Weston warns him not to answer, but expecting it to be a guest the ranger does. The last thing Weston hears before slamming the phone down in terror are the screams of the park ranger.
Weston hurries over and makes sure that all the doors and windows are locked, and desperately tries to find a signal on his cellphone. As he is doing so he is interrupted by a loud thumbing on his front door. He yells for whatever is outside to go away and leave him be, the request goes unheard as the banging continues.
The door starts to come unhinged from the its bolts as the banging continues to grow in anger and ferocity. Weston knowing it is only a matter of moments before whatever is out there makes its way through the door. He grabs the iron poker out of the fire place and prepares to defend himself.
The door is yanked off its hinges and into the woods, the storm outside has disappeared. As Weston quietly stands in the middle of the cabin starring where the door used to be, everything grows vindictively silent. The fog from earlier in the evening starts to pour into the cabin from the darkness. As the cabin is filled with the dense fog the flames in the fireplace are extinguished, leaving Weston standing alone in the utter darkness.
BANG......rain drops fall against the apartment window....Bang.
Weston is awoken on his couch by the sounds of thunder outside of his Manhattan apartment. He looks around trying to gather his bearings and get his wits about him.
He stands up and looks around in a cold sweat wondering if it had all been a nightmare or dream. He begins to contemplate and recount everything that he had sworn was happening to him. Then he ponders whether his subconscious had given him the break through of the writers block he was searching for.
He looks at his phone on the kitchen counter and sees he has a few missed calls from his wife, and an unheard message. He plays the message and listens to his wife tell him the she knows if he takes some time to relax and rest this weekend that he will come up with something great. She says maybe a few hours of sleep wouldn't be the worst thing for him.
A coy smile comes across Weston's face after listening to the message left by Mary. He heads over to his work station, sits down at his desk, pulls up a new document on his laptop, and begins to write down his new idea.
As he is working away he is interrupted from his work by a loud knocking sound, Weston slowly turns around and stares at the front door.
The lighting in apartment is dim from the gray skies that loom ominously outside the window, and the fading light bulbs struggling to do their best to illuminate the one bedroom structure. It's a chilly and quiet October day, a type of day that has become all to familiar for Hunter Weston.
Since releasing his New York Times best selling thriller, "The Day the World Ended", Weston has been clawing and scratching to write his next great literary masterpiece. His last novel was released twelve years ago. Ever since his breakthrough into the upper echelon of contemporary authors, Weston has failed to follow up on his success.
Suddenly the quiet home is bursting at the seems with life as Weston aggressively exits the bedroom and makes his way over to the fridge. Following close behind is his wife, Mary, who is doing her best to encourage her struggling husband.
Weston grabs a chilled glass and bottle of whiskey from the freezer and makes his way over to his writing table. The table faces the window that's being bombarded with rain, and overlooks the city crawling with handfuls of people trying to stay dry.
As Weston sits down and begins to flesh out new ideas, his wife hovers over him offering words of encouragement. She kisses him on the top of his head as she warps her arms around him from behind. She gives him some final kind words before leaving to visit her mother for the weekend, expressing her optimism and belief in him.
As she leaves and closes the door behind her a taunting silence engulfs the room. Weston polishes off the whiskey in his glass as he stands up from the table. He pushes in the chair calmly and takes a deep breath, before hurling the glass at the apartment wall. It has been a long twelve year battle of writers block Weston has endured, and he fears he is close to losing the fight.
Weston meanders over to the living room couch, sitting down, and begins to aimlessly flip through the channels on TV. As Weston's eyes begin to feel to heavy to keep open, he beings to drift to sleep. A sudden and deafening bang on his apartment door startles him and interrupts his impending afternoon nap. Figuring it to be his wife who left her set of keys behind, he goes to open the door.
Weston pulls the door open only to find an empty doorway, he steps outside to find the hallway empty as well. He looks in every direction for an answer to what made the noise against his door. As he goes to step back into his home he notices something on his doormat. He bends down to pick it up and examines what it is.
It's a pamphlet with a photo of a cabin on the front page, with the title head reading "The Perfect Getaway" etched above the image. Weston examines the content of the pamphlet thinking someone left it at his door step as joke or to mock his struggles. He takes it down to the front desk clerk to see who brought it up to his apartment.
After the clerk says he didn't know who left it and that no one has come or gone since he start his shift an hour ago, a curious looks comes across Weston's face. He takes the pamphlet and journeys back up to his apartment.
Back in his living room Weston paces back and forth behind the couch. The pamphlet sits on a small glass coffee table between the couch and the TV, starring back at him. Weston stops his movement and takes a long look at the mysterious literature. He walks into his room, backs a bag, and heads out for up state New York.
On his drive to the address that was listed on the pamphlet, that Weston left behind, doubts and thoughts on insecurity cloud his mind. He begins to wonder if this is all and elaborate scheme or the depths to which his desperation for a new idea have sank. He can't decide which is worse.
After the three and a half hour drive is complete, Weston pulls up to a tiny office building on the edge of the woods. He gets out of his car and proceeds to find someone in charge. Weston knocks on the partition of a small office to capture the attention of the park ranger sleeping inside.
Weston tells the ranger that he came across a pamphlet for this place and he was curious to see how much it would be to rent a cabin for the weekend. The ranger tells him that there is no charge as they are all booked up. However, the ranger divulges to Weston that a couple did just call to cancel their reservation. The cabin is stocked and the deposit was non-refundable and he would allow him to stay there for the weekend.
Weston asks why the couple had to cancel but the ranger has no answers. Weston ponders the offer for a brief moment before ultimately accepting. The ranger steps out of the office with a flash light, a set of keys, and a map. He gives Weston the materials and welcomes him to "World's End National Park".
This catches Weston's attention for obvious reasons. He asks about the parks origins and how it got its name. The young ranger says he's not sure and that this place has been around since before he was. He does say however that all the cabins are spread out and isolated in the woods, and that it gets so quiet you would think you were the last man on earth.
Weston takes the items from the ranger and starts to navigate up a dirt trail and into the woods. He walks into the sea of trees and an inescapable feeling of somethings presence lurking in the woods over takes him. It's dusk now and it's getting dark very quickly, Weston takes the flashlight the ranger gave him and puts it to use.
It's been fifteen minutes now and Weston hasn't heard a noise or seen another human since leaving the rangers office. He starts to second guess his decision of staying in this place. It's completely dark now thanks to the dying sun and the vast number of large trees surrounding him. He decides to head back to the park entrance and head back to his home. Suddenly, Weston makes a stomach sinking realization. He somehow wandered off the path in the darkness as he was fixated on the light from his flashlight guiding his way. He's lost now.
Panic sets in and Weston starts to aimlessly wander through the unfamiliar woods. He reaches into his pocket to retrieve the map but feels nothing, it must have fallen out along the way. Another fifteen minutes go by. Weston stops in his tracks and tries to calm himself by taking a few deep breaths.
In...and out. In...and out. In...and out. Then there is nothing but silence. Weston closes his eyes and tries to retrace his steps through his mind. His concentration, and the silence, are broken by the sounds of rustling in the bushes behind him. Startled, Weston does a 180 and points his light into the darkness. He doesn't see anything as he scans over the woods in silence, then the sound of branches breaking come from the direction he was facing previously.
Fearful and desperate Weston makes a beeline in the direction he thought would lead to his cabin. As he is moving he can't help but feel like someone, or something, is following his every move. Weston comes to a halt as the light in his hand catches the reflection of a wind chime just ahead. As he moves closer he realizes he has found his cabin, and is filled with relief.
As Weston steps through the front door of his cabin, he notices all the furnishings that make up the interior. A fully stocked kitchen to his left, a living room with a red and black plaid cushioned couch ahead of him, and a painting hanging over a fire place to his left. He walks around the cabin examining the wooden furniture, stuffed animal head trophies that line walls, and familiarizes himself with the setting. Before making his way into the bedroom to rest, Weston steps out the back door and onto the deck that reveals more of the vast woods.
Weston takes in the cool fresh air before pulling out a cigarette and striking a match. As he inhales and exhales the fumes a calming sense comes over his entire body, for the first time in years his mind feels unburdened and free. Finally a sense of hope for a creative spark that he has longed for gives him a joyful sense of possibility.
As he stands with the cigarette hanging out of his mouth and his hands grasping the railing of the deck, Weston peers out into the woods. Looking far into the darkness, Weston's eyes catch a shadow in the distance. He enters the cabin and grabs the flashlight off the kitchen counter in hopes to reveal what the shadow is hiding in the dark.
When he comes back out and points the light into the woods he finds nothing. When he clicks the light off he is bewildered to see that the shadow seems to be closer than it was before. He quickly turns the light back on only to lose the shadow from his sight once more. This time Weston keeps the light on because he fears what he knows will come next. Hesitantly he clicks the light off and the shadow is now just yards away from the deck.
Weston turns to quickly enter the cabin but as he turns the knob to the back door, he finds himself locked out. He tries desperately to pull the door open to no avail, Weston turns around a points the flashlight out into the dark. The light, he hopes, will keep whatever is lurking in the dark away, until the light in his hand inexplicably goes out. While yelling for the light to come on and smacking the flashlight in hopes to rattle the light free, he looks up to see nothing.
It's hauntingly quiet until Weston hears what sounds like a large figure charging towards the deck. He spins around and once again tries to pull the door open, finally it budges free and Weston scurries into the house. As he enters the cabin he turns to close and lock the back door. Weston, standing in the doorway, is face to face with the shadow, he lets out a shout and slams the door shut while locking it.
As Weston backs away from the door and into the middle of the cabin, he tries to comprehend what he just saw. While doing so a loud bang, like the one he heard back at his apartment, echoes through the cabin from the back door. Acknowledging the sound Weston calls out asking who is there to no answer. The banging continues as Weston cautiously approaches the door, suddenly the loud banging comes from the front door.
Weston runs to the front door ready to confront whatever is outside. As he opens the door the ranger is standing underneath the light from the lantern mounted on the exterior of the cabin. The ranger says he came to check in and see how Weston was settling in. A frantic Weston aggressively asks the ranger if he was the one in the woods in the back of the cabin. The ranger, puzzled and confused, dismisses the claim and says it must have been some animal. Weston eases and agrees sending the ranger on his way, thanking him for the hospitality.
Alone again Weston calms down and plays the ordeal off to his overactive imagination, after years of being bottled up from the writers block. He unpacks and settles in to his new home for the weekend, as the the long Friday comes to an end. Weston spreads out on the soft mattress in the bedroom, he closes his eyes, and drifts to sleep.
On Saturday morning Weston emerges from the bedroom and makes himself breakfast in the cabins kitchen. He mixes eggs, lays out bacon in a pan placing it on the stove, puts bread into the toaster, and finally brews a pot of coffee. Weston takes his meal to the dining room table, opens his laptop, and enjoys his morning.
After finishing his meal Weston prepares to shut himself inside the cabin, locked away from the rest of the world. He is confident that if he cuts himself off from any distractions and has a twenty-four hour period committed to forming his perfect idea that he will finally have the breakthrough that he has been craving for so long. He draws curtains over all the windows in the cabin, unhooks the land-line from the jack, takes the battery out of his cellphone, and disconnects the internet connection. He locks and dead-bolts both the front and back door, he is completely isolated.
Weston spends the next few hours brain storming and reading through some of his old notes that he brought with him. He scans over the pages searching for a solution or an idea that he thought wasn't right at the time. He pours himself some whiskey and pulls out his cigarettes, the tobacco and alcohol loosen his inhibitions and allow him to write without a sense of self criticism.
Some time passes and the more he drinks the more his ideas start to develop, still there is something that is missing. He sets down is pen and paper and goes over to the sink to splash some water in his face. He glances at his watch and notices it's nearly five o'clock, he's been feverishly working all day. He goes outside for the first time to get some air and grab some logs to build a fire. He knows the long night that is ahead of him.
As we walks around to the side of the cabin to pulls some logs from a neatly organized stack, he notices the dense for that has inhabited the woods. The setting suns struggling to peer through the mass tree tops gives the environment around him an eerie dim hue. He grabs four or five logs and places his arms beneath them to carry the pile inside.
As he is walking back to the front door a sudden low pitched scream in the distance startles Weston causing him to drop the lumber. The noise is far and lost among the fog and trees, but it's tone is undeniable. Weston stands in the door way for a minute waiting for another outcry. He stands with the firewood at his feet before bending over to collect his belongings. After hearing not another sound, aside from the damp October wind pushing the leaves across the floor of the woods, he goes back inside.
It starts to rain.
Weston can hear the pellets of water gently tapping against the roof of the cabin, it's oddly calming. He puts the wood into the fire place and a sets the pile ablaze. Stoking the fire Weston, on one knee, gets the height of the flames to his liking before retreating to the couch.
A quick flash of lightning sneaks its way through the crack in the curtains, followed by a distance rumble of thunder.
Helping himself to another glass of whiskey, Weston prepares himself some supper before returning to his work. He puts the battery back into his cell phone in an attempt to check on his wife, but notices the imminent storm has block the service to his device. He goes and plugs the jack back into the wall for the land line, but suspiciously as soon as he does the phone rings.
Starring at the phone Weston contemplates whether or not to answer it, ultimately he does. He puts his ear to the phone as says hello, there is no answer. He asks a final time, all the while hearing nothing, before hanging up. As he does a faint voice from behind him struggles to say,"He's coming,". Weston spins around and demands to know who said the words.
He walks up to one of the deer heads hanging on the wall and stares into the dead animals eyes, before his spell is broken by the ringing phone once again. He runs over to answer it but once again is greeted by nothing but white noise. As he puts the phone down another voice warns from within the walls of the cabin,"Hide he's almost here,".
Weston looks up and sees that all the trophy heads of the dead animal now appear to be turned and looking straight at him. Feeling uneasy he goes to rest on the couch. As he tries to relax he warms himself by the fire as the approaching storm gains even more strength.
Sitting on the couch finishing his beverage, Weston notices something in the painting above the fire place. The picture shows an image of a large building nestled in between the trees of the woods with people standing scattered around the exterior of the building. He walks up to get a better look at the particular detail that caught his attention.
Etched about the doorway of the building is a small sign, he couldn't tell for sure what it said before he walked up right in front of the painting. The words reveal, "World's End Asylum". A strange feeling comes over Weston as he examines the rest of the painting. He makes eye contact with what looks like a little girl who is sitting on a bench next to a garden outside of the building. He leans in and admires the incredible detail of which the child's face was painted with. While looking at her the image comes to life and whispers "run" directly at Weston.
Frightened Weston drops his glass shattering it and stumbles backwards away from the painting falling over the small table between him and the couch. He isn't sure if the whiskey and his imagination are playing tricks on him but nonetheless he is confident what just transpired really happened.
He goes over to his laptop and tries to bring up the internet, after resetting the connection he is able to get on the web. He googles the name of the asylum in the painting bringing up a few pages of results. As he reads about what he's found, he learns that the area where this park has been built was home of the countries largest insane asylum during the 1800's.
However, Weston learns it was shut down when it was discovered that the doctors and orderlies of the establishment were part of a satanic cult and had been experimenting on the patients sent to the asylum. Tales of human sacrifice, demonic possession, and black magic spread through the small surrounding colony located near the asylum.
An urban legend claimed that the head doctor of the asylum barricaded himself inside the walls of the asylum and continued to practice whatever black magic was happening behind the closed doors. One day a group of children went to explore the old and abandoned building. However, once they went inside they were never seen again. The tale claims that when the people of the colony went searching for the lost kids they saw a shadow through the glassless windows of the asylum moving throughout the building. As the search for the kids was fruitless they came to the conclusion the doctor had murder them. They tried to enter the building to confront him and confirm their fears but the doors would not budge. With no other option remaining they set the asylum ablaze burning down the structure, with the doctor, they had hoped, inside.
Before Weston can finish reading the myth or do any more research on the area he was staying in, the storm outside knocks the power out. He is left in the dark with only the flames from the fire place serving as his source of light. Then inexplicably the phone rings again.
Weston cautiously answers the phone and says hello, the park ranger is on the other end. He ask Weston if he has seen any of the other guests wandering around the park today, to which he replies no. The ranger informs him that he has checked in on almost all the other cabins and that all the other guest were nowhere to be found.
Before the ranger can divulge anymore he says to Weston that someone is knocking on his office door. Weston warns him not to answer, but expecting it to be a guest the ranger does. The last thing Weston hears before slamming the phone down in terror are the screams of the park ranger.
Weston hurries over and makes sure that all the doors and windows are locked, and desperately tries to find a signal on his cellphone. As he is doing so he is interrupted by a loud thumbing on his front door. He yells for whatever is outside to go away and leave him be, the request goes unheard as the banging continues.
The door starts to come unhinged from the its bolts as the banging continues to grow in anger and ferocity. Weston knowing it is only a matter of moments before whatever is out there makes its way through the door. He grabs the iron poker out of the fire place and prepares to defend himself.
The door is yanked off its hinges and into the woods, the storm outside has disappeared. As Weston quietly stands in the middle of the cabin starring where the door used to be, everything grows vindictively silent. The fog from earlier in the evening starts to pour into the cabin from the darkness. As the cabin is filled with the dense fog the flames in the fireplace are extinguished, leaving Weston standing alone in the utter darkness.
BANG......rain drops fall against the apartment window....Bang.
Weston is awoken on his couch by the sounds of thunder outside of his Manhattan apartment. He looks around trying to gather his bearings and get his wits about him.
He stands up and looks around in a cold sweat wondering if it had all been a nightmare or dream. He begins to contemplate and recount everything that he had sworn was happening to him. Then he ponders whether his subconscious had given him the break through of the writers block he was searching for.
He looks at his phone on the kitchen counter and sees he has a few missed calls from his wife, and an unheard message. He plays the message and listens to his wife tell him the she knows if he takes some time to relax and rest this weekend that he will come up with something great. She says maybe a few hours of sleep wouldn't be the worst thing for him.
A coy smile comes across Weston's face after listening to the message left by Mary. He heads over to his work station, sits down at his desk, pulls up a new document on his laptop, and begins to write down his new idea.
As he is working away he is interrupted from his work by a loud knocking sound, Weston slowly turns around and stares at the front door.
THE END
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