Jonas

No debris scattered, no sign of what made them.

They ended at the far wall beneath the window, like something had been pulled there and disappeared.

No stains, no scratches on the wall itself.

Just the marks.

I stared for a while, trying to make sense of it.

Thought maybe furniture had been moved, but nothing in that room matched the width of the tracks.

I even measured it against the coat rack, thinking maybe someone had dragged it.

But the marks were wider than its base.

I turned to leave, and that's when I noticed the back door wasn't cracked open anymore.

It was shut.

Not just pushed shut, latched.

From the inside.

My first thought was that I'd somehow bumped it closed, but the latch was one of those old metal hooks, and it was hooked through the eye.

You can't latch that from the outside.

And the rock-eyed wedge behind it was gone.

Just gone.

I stood there in the doorway for a while, listening.

Didn't even realize I was holding my breath until I had to let it out in a slow hiss.

The cabin felt suddenly heavier.

Every creak of the old wood seemed louder.