I Was Alone In The Cabin And Slept Off. When I Woke Up I Had An Arm Wrapped Around Me…

Previously: A Person With Dark Hair Was Standing Naked In The Snow And Staring Right At Me…


Things have spiraled out of control up here on the mountain. I made a decision that changed everything, and it almost killed me.


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Only time will tell if it was the right choice to make. But for now, I’m just piecing everything together in my mind, and trying to convince myself that I’m one step closer to solving all of this.

I destroyed the strange dreamcatcher that has been dangling on a tree branch behind the cabin since Faye and I first came to this place. Nobody knows who made it, what its purpose is, or why it’s on the side of the tree facing into the woods, rather than the side facing the house. I found all of the supplies to make another one just like it, locked behind a cellar door that someone tried to hide years ago. But when I broke the dreamcatcher, I learned everything I needed to know.

Tiwe is dead. A lot of people have said otherwise, but I am certain of this. I saw his likeness, stretched over the gruesome form of the thing that stalks these woods. It was broad daylight, and the look on that its mangled face told me exactly what I didn’t want to accept: I really am all alone. Several Redditors have speculated that this thing only shows itself at night – and always faces away from me – because it cannot convincingly appear human. Not without the help of the recently-dead. Tiwe confirmed this during his first visit to the cabin. But when I destroyed that dreamcatcher, there it was, proudly masquerading in the skin and hair of my best friend on this mountain. In the sunlight, no less. I cannot even imagine how his son Nathan must feel, if he’s even alive.


The two hiked back to the ranger’s station from the cabin, knowing a blizzard was coming. I’m sure that’s when Tiwe died.


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When I got back inside the cabin I completely lost it. I barricaded the door and windows with every piece of furniture I could, but there just isn’t enough stuff inside this little cabin to protect me. So I sat there on the floor against the bed, clutching the gun, sort of wishing my dark visitor would come and kill me already.

But of course, this is Pikes Peak. Death is not the worst thing that can happen to you here. So the mountain kept fucking with me.

It was getting dark, and I was on the verge of a total psychological break. I’ve been running on 4 hours of sleep per night and a few naps for the past two weeks, my only hope for redemption just got turned into a puppet, and I was about to find out what happens come nightfall when the dreamcatcher no longer functions. So what did my brain decide was the best course of action at this point? To fall asleep.

Somehow I nodded off. In fact, I think my brain just did a hard reset, because nothing about that sleep was restful. I just went into a fear-coma the minute the sun dipped behind the mountain.

And then I woke up.

I was in bed, with the sheets pulled up over me. The lights were off – all of them – and my hands were empty, when before they held Greg’ s .357 magnum. When I opened my eyes, I supposed it was possible that I’d climbed into bed myself. After all, I’d caught myself sleepwalking twice the day before.


But it took me a solid minute before I realized there was a fucking arm wrapped around my chest.


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I did not have the reaction you’d expect. Most people would fly out of the bed screaming bloody murder, but the first thought I had was, “Uh…where am I?”

My parents divorced when I was three, so as a kid I’d spend a few nights a week at my dad’s house and a few nights at my mom’s. Sometimes I’d wake up in the dark and not be sure which bedroom I was in. It always took me a second to remember where I was. This is the thought that crossed my delirious mind. Maybe I was back at home in California? Maybe I was at Faye’s parents’ house in Arvada?

I sort of rolled out from under the arm and tried to figure out who the hell was lying in bed with me. I’d been sleeping with the lights on for the past few nights, and I’d never in my right mind have turned them off after seeing the creature so close to me a few hours ago. The body in bed beside me felt familiar, its warmth, its texture. I was pretty sure it was Faye, but I still couldn’t remember if she was really with me up here. Then she spoke.

She reached through the dark and touched my face, and said, “What’s wrong, poptart?” (Yes, that’s actually the nickname she gave me. Love me some S’mores poptarts). I wasn’t really afraid, just overwhelmed with confusion. I asked her where we were, and why the lights were off.


She just squeezed my shoulder and said, “Honey, we’re in Pikes Peak. There’s a storm. The power’s out. It’s done this before. What’s wrong with you?”


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I got up out of bed. A feeling of dread was falling over me, heavier and heavier, the more awake I became. As soon as the sheets were off of me, I felt a blistering cold. Colder than it’s ever been in the cabin. The heat must have been off for hours. Only a bit of pale moonlight filtered in through the windows, and it was barely enough to outline the objects in the room. I stumbled around looking for the flashlight, totally unable to remember where it was, and said, “Why the fuck is it so cold? Did you screw with the heat?”

Faye tried to get me to come back to bed. She told me it went off and came back on earlier, and that it would probably be back on soon. Everything about her felt wrong, but her voice was perfectly clear; her skin felt totally recognizable. I couldn’t shake the strange feeling I had.

I left the bedroom and walked out into the living room. It was even colder out there. I felt my way around with my hands, and noticed a strong, icy draft coming from down the hall. It’s a straight shot from the living room to the bathroom at the other end of the hall, and from where I stood I could see the bathroom window. It was wide open. A big, two-by-two foot gap leading out to the snow.

I went to shout, “What the fuck did you-“ but Faye stepped out of the bedroom, and stood in the hallway between me and the bathroom. She said something like, “Felix, you aren’t feeling well. Do you not remember what’s going on? You’re sick.”

I almost believed her, because I definitely felt dizzy and feverish, but it could also have been the mixture of disturbed confusion and freezing cold. The thought that this was not really Faye invaded my mind, and I immediately regretted not knowing where the gun was. The only words I could find were, “…Who are you?” and “Why are you here?”


Faye just stood there in the darkness of the hallway. The only thing I could see was a little silver outline of her figure; her face was entirely black.


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But even though her eyes were hidden, I could feel them burning into me – just as Tiwe’s had when I found the ring. It felt like we stood in the eye of a hurricane; everything was totally calm, but I knew hell was about to break loose. There wasn’t a single sound outside. No branches snapped, no snow crunched, no voices moaned. It was as if time had stopped completely.

Faye didn’t move. Even as she spoke, she held herself with the stillness of death. She said, “Felix.” It wasn’t to get my attention. It wasn’t to convince me she was really my fiancée. It was a threat. She was reminding me that she knew my name. I still don’t fully understand what the power is in names, but Tiwe and Nathan believed it, and many Redditors warned me about it. When she said my name, I felt smaller than her, even though I stand almost foot over her head.

“Do you remember the five?” she asked. She still didn’t move an inch. Not even her hair kicked up in the drafts that blew in from behind her. “I can’t remember. Not in this place.”


I didn’t know how to respond to this. I didn’t know what she was talking about. All I could say was, “Get out. You are not welcome here.”


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Again, Faye didn’t move. But she did clear her throat, and the sound she made was about two octaves deeper than the real Faye’s voice. She inhaled sharply, and said, “Tell me. About. The number five.”

And that’s when I knew. I remembered where I was, what day it was, and exactly what had happened up until this point. My visitor had finally come to call, and it no longer needed to be invited. I deeply regretted breaking that dreamcatcher. My hand instinctively slid over my pocket, and to my relief, the little shape of Faye’s engagement ring pushed back against my fingers.

There was nothing else to do. I decided to throw down the gauntlet. I figured it was probably time to die anyway, so I might as well go out bravely. I just said, “I know who you are, and you will never be Faye.”

She took a menacing step toward me. A gurgle seeped out of her throat. She inhaled again, more slowly this time, and demanded, ”I want to know about the number five. Tell me, Felix.” I looked all around me on the counters for a weapon but found nothing. The knife block was on the other side of the short wall that divided the living room from the kitchen. There was only a roll of paper towels within reach, but in retrospect, I was so amped with terror that I probably could have beaten her ass to death with it.


“I don’t have a clue what that number means,” I said.


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“In fact, about five thousand people online don’t either. Nobody knows. Only Faye knows.” My visitor started shaking with rage. Her face was wreathed with impossible black; there was an endless abyss in it that stung my eyes.

But then I realized something: this creature, whatever it is, has had access to Faye’s mind for several hours every night. Maybe for many years. Maybe even since she first visited the cabin, when she was five years old. And in all that time, it still hadn’t learned everything about her. It could never perfectly imitate her because she kept some things buried so deep in her subconscious that not even this thing could find them. Whatever the number 5 meant to Faye, that deep place is where she kept the secret. She didn’t even go there in her dreams.

The next part was all a blur. I said something like, “You are the one who speaks to her in her sleep.” The visitor kind of nodded. I said, “You ask her things. She answers you. I hear everything she says.” The visitor didn’t react. Then I said, “You’ve asked her this question, just like you’re asking me now. And she always says, ‘No, no. I can’t tell you.’”


My visitor took another step forward, dragging a hand along the wall, as Faye had so many times in her sleepwalking fits.


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It raised up on the balls of its feet and twitched violently. It said to me, “I will make you tell me.” It didn’t try to mimic my fiancée’s voice anymore. It sucked in huge breaths, trying to control its rage.

There is a certain feeling you get when you’re about to die. When you’re in danger, and you might die, fear completely overwhelms your senses and compels you to flee. To fight. To save yourself, somehow. But past that point, when youknow you are going to die, that fear becomes useless and disappears. This has happened to me only once before, when I was sucked into a rip tide at the beach during an El Nino winter as a teenager. In that moment I just wondered, “will my body ever come back to shore? Will they ever know what happened to me?”

In this moment, my heart slowed down, and I didn’t feel cold anymore. I just stood there, ready to be mauled to death. I was satisfied in the knowledge that I had not given this creature what it wanted, and therefore blocked it from using that knowledge as a weapon against Faye. Whatever 5 meant, this thing needed it to take full possession of my fiancée. And I wasn’t going to let that happen.

I laughed. I actually laughed, and said, “Well. You’re shit out of luck, buddy. Because I don’t know what the hell it means. Maybe you can tell me when you figure it out.”


The Impostor laughed right back, in my voice, a perfect mimicry. Then it said, “Well. Then we don’t need you anymore.” It lunged at me.


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I have dodged a rabid German Shepard like I was a ninja. But this thing was so fast and so strong it knocked the wind clean out of me. I toppled backward and crash-landed on my shoulders on the tiles near the front door. It unleashed a barrage of blows on my face and neck. It raked my sweatshirt with razor-like claws. I tried my best to defend myself, but it was so dark in the house I couldn’t see almost anything. I managed to flail my way free of its grasp for just a second. I pulled myself up to my feet by grabbing the counter, and in doing so, my hand brushed against the little bundle of sage I’d been burning.

The Impostor was on me like lightning, grabbing me by the back of the neck and pulling me with the strength of a 250-pound man. I very ingloriously whirled around and smashed the sage bundle into the creature’s face, burnt-end first, and wrapped my other arm round its head. Faye’s familiar locks tangled in my fingers. I pulled its head forward and jammed the brittle sage into its eyes as hard as I could, screaming like a banshee. It shrieked and growled in some inhuman language, and tried to push me away, but I held on as hard as I could and kept driving my fingers into its eyes, crushing the twigs in them. A memory of Nathan and Tiwe’s chant surfaced in my mind, and I shouted the only part of it I could pronounce: ”Tineke Adan, Tineke Adan, Tineke Adan” (who knows if I’m even remotely close to the correct spelling). My hands slid over its face and the mockery of Faye’s appearance fell away.


I couldn’t see in the dark, but the face no longer resembled my fiancée’s; the mouth was much too big for a human’s and the wet lips draped across the maw of a hundred fangs.


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And that was it. The bastard had had enough. It screamed and growled and took off on all fours. Its limbs elongated as it moved farther from me; its shape became recognizably inhuman even in the pale light. It barreled up the bathroom wall and out the window, and in moments, it was completely gone.

I definitely am not afraid to cry – I do it at funerals, at weddings, during The Hunchback of Notre Dam, etc. But I’m a little embarrassed to admit how long and hard I cried after that creature left the cabin. I had never felt so utterly, miserably alone in my entire life. I only stopped when the power came back on, probably twenty minutes later. The heater kicked on instantly and I ran over to shut and lock the bathroom window. My satellite phone was gone. The gun was gone. Probably outside in the snow, or up in a tree. Or down in the hole.

I peeked out the kitchen window and saw something lying on the porch, right near the front door. When I cracked the door open just for a second, I saw that it was Tiwe’s dreamcatcher. It had been destroyed and placed in front of the cabin, mocking me. Or reminding me that I was unprotected. I checked the timer on the little battery clock in the kitchen, and it read 12:15AM.

I was going to have to spend another night in this god forsaken cabin. But I vowed to myself that at daybreak, no matter the conditions, I would take Greg’s truck and get down the mountain, or die trying.


I didn’t care if I slid off the cliff face; I’d never watch the sun go down in Colorado ever again.


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For a while, I actually considered leaving right then, in the middle of the night. Many Redditors have reprimanded me for not doing this before, but I assure you, even in this situation, driving in the dark on that icy little road next to the 400 foot cliff is a complete nope situation.

But the mountain had other plans for me.

At one point I risked sneaking outside to determine how deep the truck was buried. But as I approached, I saw that the snow had been dug out around the two front tires, and they’d been slashed to ribbons. All I could do was let out a grim laugh and trudge back inside. At least it was warm in there now.

At around 1AM, the voices started up. They arose from far off in the woods, several of them at once, groaning and screaming dark elegies to the night. It was all the same evil gibberish I’d heard a thousand times before, but they slowly made their way into the open field, and eventually, to just outside the cabin.


I lit the remaining pieces of sage and did a once-over on all the windows that weren’t barricaded with furniture.


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I also donned the medicine pouches and amulet that Tiwe and Nathan had given to me, hoping they’d be similarly effective in protecting me. Then I remembered Tiwe’s useless dreamcatcher, and imagined my crumpled corpse lying in the snow beside it.

Outside the front door, I distinctly heard my own voice calling, “Faye! It’s me, Felix! Let me in! Let me in!” and from near the bathroom window, my voice again, saying “Hi sweetie. I miss you so much.” It repeated a few other things I’ve said on the phone in conversations with her, and even a few things I said to her while she was sleepwalking back at our home in California.

There were footsteps on the roof. Two, maybe three pairs of little feet, stomping all over the ceiling. Voices of crying children paired with them. I stood there in the kitchen, clutching a knife and the herbs, waiting for the end. The voices circled the cabin, as though a handful of deranged lunatics were slowly marching around the perimeter, singing the songs of hell as they went. They begged for help, they laughed maniacally, they whispered and screamed and talked entirely to themselves, all at once. Their dim shadows passed the window curtains over and over.


I heard glass breaking in the bedroom, and then in the bathroom.


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The stomping on the roof grew louder, and the voice at the front door grew more urgent. Someone began knocking on the door, and the others tapped on the living room windows. They all started screaming, “Faye! Faye! Let us in!” and “Felix? Are you there?”

And then, as if heaven-sent, a blinding white light illuminated the entire cabin from outside. All of the window curtains at the front of the house lit up, and the sound of motors drowned out the hellish cries. Someone had driven up to the cabin.

I heard doors opening and men calling out – coherently. The footsteps on the roof thundered overhead to the back of the cabin, and then the screams of children drifted off into the woods out back, echoing as they withdrew. The ranger bashed on the front door, calling out my full name, instructing me to come outside.

I looked out the window and saw five men, some in uniforms, and the ranger. There was a humongous off-road snowplow, two snowmobiles, and a big truck. They’d come to save my life. When I went outside, I just walked up and hugged the ranger. I didn’t even grab my winter jacket.


He informed me that they were getting everyone off the mountain because of a problem with the power grid. He said he feared I’d freeze to death.


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The ride down the mountain would have been the happiest ride of my life, except for the view. We snaked across slippery, white roads, and even with the truck’s high beams on, I could see the brightest stars I’ve ever witnessed. But beneath them, dangling in the trees, were dozens and dozens of human bodies. They swung by rope from their feet or necks. Some of them were flayed or missing parts. The ranger did not appear to notice, and I kept my mouth shut. As they passed overhead on our downward crawl, I could almost make out their frozen faces, lifeless for years, maybe decades. Their black blood stained the trunks of the trees. I’m not sure if these were the “spirits” Tiwe talked about, or if I had simply been experiencing temporary insanity. I’m not sure I’ll ever know who they were, but I’m guessing that if the ranger showed up any later, I would have become one of them. I will never forget the haunting image of passing underneath them.

We arrived at the ranger station and remained there overnight. I slept on a cot in a room of about fifteen people, all locals from different places on the mountain. I asked the ranger if he’d heard from Tiwe or Nathan, but he said he had not. The next morning, one of his men drove me straight to Denver International Airport, and I boarded a plane without any luggage whatsoever. It didn’t matter. I had the ring in my pocket, and I’ll never need another jacket again – as long as I live.


When I finally got home, Faye let me have it. She kept kissing me and yelling at me. I understood.


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She was angry that I’d spent so much time trying to take control of this situation, treating her like a child, and disregarding her feelings in my crusade to rescue her. She was upset that I consigned her to the care of my best friends without asking, but seemed to appreciate their help. Richard and Jason were very happy to leave my house and never look Faye in the eye again, although they did have some good news for me: Faye had not sleepwalked or sleeptalked or done anything out of the ordinary in over 24 hours. This corresponds almost exactly with when I retrieved the ring from the dreamcatcher. After an hour or so of reprimanding me for being a thick-headed idiot, Faye forgave me, and we laid in bed together and talked about everything.

I apologized to her for the way I had treated her, and put the ring on her finger. She looked relieved to have it back on. I swore I’d never screw up like that again. We both slept a full night; no strange night terrors or bad dreams or sleep disturbances of any kind. And in the morning, yesterday morning, we had Faye’s favorite: waffles.

At about 11AM, I received a call. To my great relief, it was Nathan. I immediately pressed him for information about Tiwe, and what exactly had happened after they left the cabin that day. He ignored my questions and said, very ominously,

“Please let me speak to the one who followed you home.”

I said something like, “Uh, what?”

To which he replied, “The one that calls itself Faye.”

My fiancée and I had been sitting on the couch watching the most recent Game of Thrones, so I just sort of handed the phone to her and said, “It’s for you.” She put it to her ear and said “Hello?” and then listened for about a minute. I could hear Nathan speaking, but I could not make out what he was saying.


Suddenly, a volcano of black puke exploded from Faye’s mouth.


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It absolutely covered the couch and carpet, and sent me nearly jumping out of my skin in the process. Faye doubled over onto the floor like a ragdoll, coughing and sputtering. I fell to my knees beside her, panicked, asking if she was alright. I picked up the phone and screamed at Nathan, demanding to know what he had said to her.

Nathan just said, “Please, Felix, please listen,” and then proceeded to recite some sort of chant or incantation. A wave of syrupy vomit rushed up my throat and out of my mouth, and as with Faye, it was oily black. I am actually an emetophobe, so vomiting sends me into a state of near-catatonia, but Faye had made a quick recovery and was right there to nurse me back to my senses. Nathan spoke to me a bit more, and explained what he had done. I’ll get to that in a bit.

Faye and I spent the rest of the day feeling queasy, and eventually went to Urgent Care across the road to get checked out.


They gave us blood tests and checked our vitals and sent us home, telling us that we’d suffered minor food poisoning.


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But I know deep down it wasn’t the damn waffles. Thankfully, for the past several hours, we’ve been feeling much better.

I mentioned a while back that Tiwe and Nathan had a disagreement over who the real Faye was, and whether it was even possible for a duplicate of my fiancée to exist. When they hiked back down the mountain from the cabin a few days ago, they had to go up into the forest to avoid the snow collapses all over the road. Out there in the woods, they heard the crying of a woman, and followed it to an abandoned mine. Both of them knew that it was very likely a trick, but Tiwe said that it was their duty to explore the possibility that Faye was alive somewhere on the mountain. The blizzard came on earlier than expected. They stood at the mouth of the mine, listening to the begging of a young woman somewhere off in the dark, but concluded that its voice was too unusual to be a human’s.


Tiwe and Nathan decided to bless entrance of the mine, which could ward off its dark inhabitants, but their chanting enraged whatever lived in it.


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It came out of the tunnels and snatched Tiwe. He screamed all the way down into the dark, and Nathan could not follow. He ran away, terrified, but got lost in the blizzard. He wandered for an hour, fearing death, and eventually came upon a skinned body swinging from a low tree branch. It was so fresh the blood hadn’t yet fully frozen. Nathan knew it was his father’s corpse.

Eventually he found his way back home. He said his father’s voice guided him out of the squall. Nathan explained to me that the Impostor’s goal of taking over someone’s mind was different from its penchant for killing people. These creatures hunt and kill at random, salvaging the human parts they need to walk the earth as mortals for a short time, but their real pleasure derives from conquering a person from within. Faye was one of the unlucky few that are “chosen” in this way, and the Impostor’s fixation on her had lasted for decades. After long enough, their continued presence in the body and mind of a victim leaves a stain on the soul. This corruption necessitates a purge, hence the barf-party we held in the living room (whose stains, by the way, I have thus failed to banish).

Nathan invited me to the funeral ceremony for Tiwe. I sadly declined, as I am already on the verge of losing my job and flat broke from this experience, but I promised that I’d honor his memory in my own way. I can’t go back to that place. Fortunately Nathan was more than understanding, and promised we’d meet again soon.


I’m still thinking about all of this. I do not yet have all the pieces of the puzzle.


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If you’re looking for all the answers, you’re going to have to help me find them. But I think I have part of this figured out. The Impostor gave Faye’s ring back to me. They wanted me to destroy the dreamcatcher. The ring was an object of great sentimental value, both to Faye, and to our relationship. The creature used it to invade Faye’s mind and control her thoughts; its goal was to convince her that it was me, so that she would welcome it into our house late at night. The home, Nathan said, symbolically represents the body, just as the ring represents our union. To be welcomed into the home is to be granted acesss to Faye.

But because the Impostor could never learn everything it needed from Faye to mimic me, it gave up on that project and instead came after me. It returned the ring to me, thus giving up its power over Faye, but I broke the dreamcatcher to retrieve it. As it turns out, that creepy, mysterious dreamcatcher was in fact protecting the cabin, and everyone inside it, which is why the Impostor needed to be invited in. When I broke it, the creature could have easily come in and killed me – but it needed information from me before it did. It needed to know one of Faye’s darkest secrets to rule her.

I’m not sure I’ll ever unravel the mystery of the number five. But I do know one thing. Not knowing what it means actually saved Faye’s life. I’m not sure I ever want to know.

As for Faye, she’s back to normal and in perfect health. She sleeps soundly and only mumbles a bit, which is pretty normal for her. Her sick sense of humor has returned as well. Last night as we went to sleep, she turned out the light and said to me, “Thank you for trying so hard.”

Then she leaned over and licked my face.

This story is published with permission from the author, Felix Blackwell and was first posted on Reddit.

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