There once was a man who was an avid hunter. He hunted everywhere- from the most treacherous plains of the African Safari down to the iciest hole in the Alaskan mountain range. In short, he was afraid of nothing, a daring adventurer to the core. Still, he was coming on in his years.
However, one day, he decided to do something he hadn't done in years- he decided to go hunting in the local woods. It would be relaxing compared to what he normally did, and a nice change of pace. He decided he would stay the night in the woods at some abandoned cabin, then hike through the woods back home the next day.
And so he went. It was a very successful trip, and by the end of the first day, he had at least a dozen squirrels tied to his belt and a buck over one shoulder. It was then growing dark, and so he set aside his rifle and decided to hunt down a cabin.
By the time he arrived at a cabin, it was dangerously dark. He could barely make out the building itself, and after a long process of stumbling around the building, found the door. It was, to his delight, unlocked, and upon entering, saw it was only one large room. The only furniture was a small wiry cot in the corner of the room. However, he wasn't in the mood for mapping out the whole place, and so set about getting ready for bed, not bothering to look about. In a jiffy he had everything cleaned and bundled up, and he relaxed back in the bed for a long sleep, leaving out a single lantern.
It was the middle of the night when he woke up, hearing a clattering of wind outside. Angry and confused at why he had awoken, he sat up and rubbed his eyes, looking to see if he had perhaps left the door open and had let in a draft. It was then that he noticed another interesting feature of the room.
The walls were covered in portraits. All different sorts of portraits, some large, some small, some fat, some thin. What was most discomforting was the fact that all the faces looked extremely life-like in the flickering light, and they all seemed to be looking at the same thing.
Him.
He shifted uncomfortably in his bed, tucking himself deeper into the covers. He was a brave and stoic man, but all the portraits had unsettled him. On closer inspection, he was almost certain they were portraits, but they seemed to all have another thing in common. All of them were glaring, lined faces set with furrowed brows and deep frowns.
Muttering to himself about darned art collectors, he settled back in bed and turned to face the wall, squeezing his eyes shut. It was only after an hour or so that he was finally able to fall asleep.
When he awoke, he sat up, glad to see the light of day and to head back into the woods.
It was then that he noticed something.
The walls were covered in windows.
