[ WP ] The rusted , mechanical switch sat on the table of the abandoned , run-down log cabin located , deep in the Allegheny Forest . A crude message was carved into the table with an arrow pointing to the switch , `` Do n't '' .

She huffed loudly as she fell to her knees in the shadowed clearing, sending several golden leaves floating into the air. Leaning against a tree trunk, she gasped for breath. The climb here had really been difficult, and her joints stung with soreness. She glanced behind her, taking in the forty-five degree grade she ’ d just scaled, all on her own. Her hiking troop would surely be proud when they heard this story! 
 
 It hadn ’ t been a perfect climb, by any means. She could still see the branches of a recently unearthed sapling about halfway down the hill, victim to her progress. Dirt was unsettled the whole way up too. She decided she should probably continue on before a horde of angry forest decomposers grabbed up their torches and pitchforks and chased her out. 
 
 Pulling a water bottle from her backpack ’ s side pocket, she stood back up, rustling the fallen leaves around as she did. She took a deep drink of the bottle, then tucked it back into its holster, her throat quenched and her breathing normalized. Now that she was at the top of the knob, she could finally figure out what it was she could see from the trail. Massive dark blobs are probably unnatural, after all. 
 She carried on, the ground thankfully flat now, and navigated toward her goal. As she approached, the thing seemed to unfold out of the darkness of the shady forest, revealing high, broken walls made up of logs at least two feet in diameter. It was a log cabin, but bigger than any she had ever seen. Windows seemed to be placed erratically along the walls, and most of them shattered at that. Entire splotches of the wall was missing in places, resulting in black portals rimmed with splintered wood. It was too dark to see anything within them. 
 
 The building appeared to be three stories tall, its roof brushing against the branches of the tallest trees around it. More impressive was the breadth of the cabin; she wasn ’ t sure how big it was. Looking left and right, it appeared the cabin continued on into the thick of the trees. 
 
 Her pale purple hiking boots continued to progress through the autumn leaf debris, drawing her closer and closer to this monstrosity of a home. She felt like she was moving automatically now, even as goose bumps appeared on her exposed arms, chilling her to the bone. 
 
 *I have to know, * she thought as she vainly rubbed her right arm, trying to warm it up. It was like a faint breeze was emanating from the house, blowing gently over her body. She almost felt like it was whispering to her, but she couldn ’ t make it out. With every passing second, she felt more and more like she didn ’ t belong in the vicinity of this place, that it should stay lost to the forest, just the way she found it. 
 
 *But where is the fun in that? * She had to force her steps now, carefully and slowly. She gazed at the door, deciding if she should go in that way, or through one of the holes in the wall. The door looked just as fresh and new as she imagined it must have looked on the day it was installed. Its red paint even held a small gleam in the setting sunlight. 
 
 Another step forward decided it for her. 
 
 The front door swung inward, revealing blackness beyond. Cold air rushed out immediately, and she could almost feel it swirling around her, pushing her towards the open cavity. She wanted to stop now, to go back down the hill. Back on the trail. Back to her campsite, her hiking troop. Oh, why did she have to go out for her own adventuring? 
 
 The wind pulled her, becoming stronger and stronger as she came closer. It grew so strong that her long, blonde hair tousled about viciously, whipping her back and face and anywhere it could reach. “ Stop! ” she called out, shaking her head free of her own hair, but her legs wouldn ’ t stop. 
 
 She was in. The door slam shut. The wind died. It was over. 
 
 Her first thought was to check the door and get out of here. She reached for the knob as she spun around, locking it in a death grip as she threw herself at the wooden frame, twisting as she did. The knob was stuck, and while the door shuddered a bit, it was clear it wouldn ’ t give. She stepped back, glowering at the door and its terrible, perfect red paint. 
 
 *It ’ s okay, * she thought as she glanced around the foyer, *I just have to find one of those holes that were in the wall. I ’ ll be fine. * She found herself repeating that last part of her thought to herself many times over, especially as she quickly discovered that every door was closed and that the sunlight lighting the room through the single high, vaulted window was quickly diminishing. 
 
 There wasn ’ t going to be much time left before she was stuck out here in the dark, trapped in a spooky, possessed log cabin. She decided that she was going to have to take some risks. Calculated, of course. If her business degree taught her anything it was how to stay on your feet even when the numbers got bad. So, time to manage some risks. 
 
 There were four ways out of this foyer. A door on the far end, opposite of the front door. Two on the right wall, one on either side of the massive chimney which filled most of the room and was adorned with the heads of a variety of game. Noted, by the way, for later in case whatever monster she ran into in this house had a fear of taxidermy. The last door was immediately to the left of the front door, and partially blocked by a massive chair, completed with carefully carved clawed feet and upholstered in red leather. This was her door, she decided. Close to the front of the cabin where she saw all those homes, and it was partially blocked- hiding an *exit* perhaps? 
 
 She giggled to herself, knowing she was probably just propelling herself to her doom, but if she could entertain herself a little bit while she did, why not? It eased some of the spookiness of the cabin anyway, and it helped that she was used to exploring in the emptiness of the forest. 
 
 The knob gave way easily in her hand this time, and she slid the door open just a crack, peering inside. 
 
 The room beyond held a variety of furniture cast in deep shadow from the fading light. Sofas, couches, tables, and even beds were placed haphazardly throughout the room, almost creating a maze. No hole in the wall here, unfortunately, but there was another door on the far side of the room. She stepped in, the wooden floor creaking under her boots. The sound felt uncomfortable in the quiet space, and she froze for a moment, wondering if this would be what finally set off whatever lived in the place. 
 
 Satisfied with her lack of death thus far, she continued through the maze, lightly running her right hand along the edges of the furniture as she did. She passed a few tables, a sofa that seemed to be made of bear fur ( And had his head on the back to match ), and a number of different broken lamps, but what finally gave her pause was a smaller specimen than much of the other grand items in the room: a simple end table. 
 
 The end table felt almost out of place, really. It had no gold embellishment, featured the body parts of no exotic animals; it just wasn ’ t special. In fact, she noted as she observed it further, its craftsmanship seemed sloppy. The legs were bent at odd angles, but bolted in place, as though that was a purposeful choice. What really stood out though, was the top of the table. In the center, an old, rusted switch was screwed down tight to the table ’ s surface. She ran her hand along its base. The cold of the metal felt just as cold as the wind that had drawn her into the place initially. 
 
 She reached for the switch curiously, but stopped for a moment as she noticed a carving in the tabletop. ‘ DON ’ T ’ was scrawled in hurried letters, with an arrow pointing up at the very switch she held. *Someone ’ s been here before then, and pressed the switch. * She frowned as she felt the tip of the switch; it almost felt like it was vibrating. 
 
 She found her decision to be a surprisingly simple one, or maybe she was just in shock at all of the circumstances that had led to this point and had let autopilot overcome her. Whatever the reason, the deed was done, and the switch, which initially had been facing towards her, was now flipped in the opposite direction, pointing at a mounted painting which she hadn ’ t noticed before. 
 
 *Had that been there at all…? * she wondered as the painting ’ s colors became vibrant, as though only freshly painted on. The scene was of a simple waterfall crashing down a small stream. Trees and big rocks lined either edge, and on the right shore, she could see the edge of a log cabin with smoke coming out of its chimney. 
 
 The chilled breeze from earlier returned now, enveloping her where she stood, lifting her up into the air. She tried to recoil, to react at all, but she was frozen now, her eyes focused on the now living painting. The smell of spring flowed in now, and the whole room brightened up. The water in the painting began to move, whitewater flying up where the waterfall met the stream below. 
 
 “ I ’ m grateful. ” The sweet, singing voice seemed to come from everywhere. With the voice came another burst of spring. “ I ’ m glad you found my house. ” 
 
 Something cold touched her back, and she felt a shock like ice run from the small of her back and out to all of her body. She couldn ’ t scream. 
 
 “ Calm, girl. ” The voice was followed by a thick, ecstatic laugh. “ I promise you great blessings in the next life. You will be a good vessel. ” 
 
 “ Thank you for your sacrifice, ” the voice hissed as her whole body went numb and terror racked her mind. 
 
 ~~~~~~~~~~~ 
 Oh goodness, that turned out really long... It was so much fun though, thank you for the prompt!
