Lake Cabin

When I was a kid in the 70's we rented a cabin at a resort on a lake in central Minnesota. It was a great cabin. Everything was kind of old fashioned, old appliances, kind of 50's patterns on the sheets and dishes and all. These cool lamps that mounted to the wall so you could be completely in bed before you turned out the light (a big deal when you're 14 and not completely grown out of the monster-under-the-bed thing).

We had a great time there, fishing on the pontoon boats, playing with kittens, just sitting around reading in the living room. Didn't feel spooky at all. But at night it sounded like there was a convention going on in the attic. Now, this was just a cabin. The attic wasn't any more than a crawl space. My Mom said that it was probably bats. Lots of really big, rambunctious bats. Bats that didn't really seem that eager to get out and be about their normal bat activities after sunset. We believed her. Still, no spooky feeling.

I was glad I could be in bed before I turned out the light, and I was annoyed at the bats, but not scared at all. But then, the scary thing that happened didn't happen at night.

One morning I had stayed in bed till way past sunrise. It was summer vacation, after all, no need to get up at any particular time. The sheets were cool, and the cabin was pretty quiet once my sisters went outside to play, so I just dozed.

All at once there was this woman there. She was older, had short red hair, and the angriest expression on her face I have ever seen. I could feel how angry she was. I felt like I was going to get hit. I wanted to cover my head with my arms, but by then she was gone again. Needless to say, I didn't sleep in anymore that summer.