Short Story Swirl

Mr. Walbern (Horror)

I've been a park ranger for about 7 years, and in my time, I've seen some serious stuff. Usually the calls were simple: there'd be a wild animal digging around the cabins or a tree had fallen over one of the trails, but every once in a while, someone would go missing. Most of the time we'd find them before the sun set, and the ones we didn't, well...

Anyway, the point is, most of our calls were simple, but some of them, well, some of them were downright terrifying. I'm writing this here on my blog because I want it documented, and then I want to forget about it completely.

It was a normal, boring day when we got the call - someone had rented cabin 13 and didn't check out at the time alloted for them. After being told the basic information, my partner and I were dispatched to go check it out and tell them it was time for them to leave. Making sure our radios and tasers were clipped to our belt, we hopped in the truck and set out.

When we arrived at the cabin, everything looked mostly normal. The renter's car was in the pathway, and there was smoke coming from the chimney. The outhouse sat to the side of the cabin, the door hanging slightly ajar, swaying with the wind. The only thing that appeared strange was the windows. Mr. Walbern, the renter, seemed to have put cardboard up against every window, completely blocking them. Shaking my head at the weird preferences of people, we walked up to the cabin and knocked loudly.

No response.

"Park Rangers, is anybody there?" My partner called as he pounded his fist against the door for a second time. Still, no response. He looked at me and shrugged before taking out his master key. He unlocked the door and opened it just a crack. "Park Rangers, we're coming in Mr. Walbern."

The cabin remained silent. Slowly, my partner stepped inside the cabin, and immediately jumped back out, his hands over his mouth. He ran down the steps and knelt by the surrounding bushes.

I stood there, unsure of what to do. I peeked my head in the doorway and was hit with the most putrid smell I've ever experienced. I took a couple steps back, my arm over my nose, and stared at the darkness emitting from the doorway. What the heck?!

After taking a moment to recover, my partner appeared back at my side on the porch, breathing heavily.

"What... is that?" He panted. I shook my head, slowly unclipping my radio and bringing it up to my mouth.

"Hey, HQ?" I said into the radio.

"We read you, ranger," came the reply through the static.

"We're going to need back up, and standby with the police and an ambulance," I said shakily.

"Roger that."

I clipped my radio back to my belt and looked at my partner. With a weary look, he pulled out his taser and turned on the flashlight function.

"Wait, you're not going in there, are you? We should wait for back up," I said, holding my hand out.

"What if someone's hurt?" He asked, a defeated look in his eyes. He didn't want to go in either, that was obvious, but he couldn't just stand here and do nothing. He pulled his shirt over his nose, turned away, and disappeared into the cabin.

With a huff, I also pulled my shirt over my nose, took out my flashlight taser, and followed him. I immediately regretted my decision.

The whole cabin was covered in blood, with piles splashed haphazardly around. I looked around, seeing the beam from my partner's flashlight in the bedroom, the only other room in the cabin. It was a simple layout: a large living room and kitchen area, with only one doorway that led to the master bedroom.

I scanned the room with my flashlight, the pools of blood reflecting as I moved my beam. There was so much blood, I'll never forget it. There was no way it came from one person, either. If it even was from a person, that is. I didn't see anyone, living or dead. It was obvious Mr. Walbern had been here, his jacket was on the chair, keys were on the counter, and there was a half full glass of milk on the counter. Despite that, the house felt empty and cold, as if no one had been there for years.

"Hey, you might want to come in here," my partner called from the other room, his voice cracking. Carefully, I made my way across the living room, doing my best not to step in any puddles of blood. When I entered the bedroom, I almost dropped my light.

In the corner of the bedroom, slightly hidden by the bed, was a pile of dead deer. Not just one, but several, and all of them were missing their heads. I gagged and turned away, walking back through the living room and out onto the porch. My partner followed me out, pulling his shirt down to reveal a deep frown on his face. After giving me a couple of moments to process, he spoke.

"This is disturbing."

"No shit," I said, also pulling my shirt down. "What happened? What do we do?"

"I don't know," he said. "I took a closer look at the deer before I called you in. Somethings not right about them."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"Well," he began, his frown deepening. "All of those deer were killed within the last day or so, and from my hunting experience, I'd say they're all does. And what's more disturbing, there seemed to be bite marks all over their bodies."

"Bite... marks?" I stared at him, my eyes stretched wide.

"Yeah." He took a deep breath and continued. "They seemed to be about the size of a human mouth."

I immediately radioed in for a call to the police station, and seconds after clipping my radio back to my belt, our back up arrived.

-------

We never found Mr. Walbern, even though the police searched for weeks. Normally, we don't get the "after" information, but my friend at the station filled me in on the details, and I wish he hadn't. DNA testing from the blood didn't match Mr. Walbern or the deer, which left the police wondering where it all came from. What did come up as a match, however, were the dental imprints of the bite marks. They belonged to Mr. Walbern.

The deer were disposed of, and the cabin was cleaned out to be rented again. Months passed, and the case went cold. Occasionally, renters of cabin 13 would report hearing scratches and scuffles outside, and many would complain about a horrible smell coming from the floorboards. Some would even report seeing a man standing outside their windows at night, just staring.

We never found Mr. Walbern, and I don't think we ever will. I quit my job a year later, shortly after another lone renter from cabin 13 went missing, and I'm now happily working far away from the woods.

I'm not putting this up as a warning, nor do I want attention. But if you do happen to see Mr. Walbern, turn around and stay far, far away from him.