It's the winter holidays and your family decides to visit the newly renovated resort. You're the first to arrive and decide there's time for a nap. Just then, you hear a knock on the door. A paper is slipped beneath the door and scrawled in bright red ink is a single word: HIDE.

A chill runs down your spine—your family wouldn't have arrived this soon, and they wouldn't play pranks on you either. What or who else could it be? And what happens next?

by

A smile spread across my lips as I unlocked the door to my family's suite at the newly renovated Jamaican resort. Being Canadian, I was overjoyed at how warm and sunny the place was this time of year. It was winter, for Christ's sake!

The air-conditioned interior was huge and spacious, with a contemporary design. A Christmas tree stood by the door, and beside it were a few boxes with Christmas decorations hanging out.

So they let you do your own decorations, I thought gleefully.

This was going to be fun! And the best part about it was that I was the first one there. My parents, boyfriend, and little sister wouldn't arrive until the next day so I had the place all to myself– all thanks to my great boss who let me off a day earlier than planned.

I got started on decorating right away and after roughly five hours I was finally finished. I randomly chose one of the three bedrooms there for my boyfriend, Kevin, and I. After a quick shower, I decided to take a nap.Just as I was about to doze off, there was a knock on the front door. I hurried to open it and was shocked to find there was no one there. The hallway outside the front door was empty. I decided it must've been my imagination and locked the door.

Just as I was about to return to my room, I spotted a neatly folded piece of white paper on the floor behind the door. I was certain I hadn't seen it there before. I picked it up and unfolded it. In the center of the paper, written in crimson letters, was the word 'Hide'.

I gasped and began to panic as the paper slipped from my hands. My heart hammering in my chest, I looked around for something I could use as a weapon. I grabbed a knife from the kitchen, then did exactly what the paper said. I rushed to my bedroom and locked myself in the closet.

I pressed my ear against the closet door and listened. My heart accelerated as I heard footsteps and rustling coming from the living room. I didn't move, barely breathe, and tightened my grip on the knife.

About half an hour of anticipation later, the sounds finally stopped. I reluctantly opened the closet door and looked around my room, then slowly made my way to the living room. Whoever had been inside had dimmed the lights, making it harder for me to look around. The living room seemed to be just as I'd left it and, as I started towards the kitchen, I jumped as slow instrumentals filled the air.

The person was still there!

Knife raised, I slowly pushed open the kitchen door. The knife fell from my hands. A million emotions stifled my heart.

Inside the dimly lit kitchen, a path made by rose petals led to the most romantic candlelit dinner I'd ever seen. Beside the table was Kevin. On one knee. Holding the box that housed a beautiful diamond ring that glistened in the darkness.

by

John Collins stared out the fifth-floor window, watching the snow drift in the parking lot. The wind howled out of the north, rattling the shutters on the rustic resort. He took a drink from the brandy snifter, questioning his sanity. John felt his blood run cold as he thought about the nightmare. He couldn't shake the feeling, that his subconscious was sending a clear urgent warning.

John walked to the nightstand and turned up the volume on the radio. He listened to the weather report and felt his gut tighten. Northern Virginia was expecting another eight inches of snow and the interstate roads were closed. John reached for a cigarette, his hand shook as he raised the match.

The knock on the door; shattered his nerves, sending chills down his spine. John watched with wide eyes as the envelope slid under the door. He walked across the room with great apprehension. John knelt, taking a folding knife from his pocket and opened the mysterious parcel. Written in bold red ink was one word:

HIDE

John crept along the hardwood floor, feeling his heart pound against his ribs. He stopped at the mahogany door and listened. The only sound was the wind, bending the oak trees. John looked through the fisheye, the hall was empty. He put his hand on the doorknob and hesitated. Had he been followed? No, he was sure of his misdirection tactics. He changed cabs twice and used a fake passport at the airport.

John put the safety chain on the door and walked back to the bed. He laid down on the sagging mattress and stared at the fluorescent lighting. The whole episode had a déjà vu quality about it. He thought about going to the restaurant and having a long relaxing dinner. His instincts told him, he would be safer in the room.

John reached under the pillow and took out the Sig Sauer automatic. If he was going to die, it would be on his own terms. Somehow, his enemies had found him. He was relieved in a strange way, that the madness would finally end. Five years on the run, had taken its toll. John listened to the wind and felt the weariness overtake him. He closed his eyes and drifted down the damp dark chasm.

John thrashed back and forth on the bed. Small beads of sweat rolled off his face, staining the lined sheets. He looked down, recoiling at the leather straps restraining his wrists. John scanned the room, noting the medical instruments glistening on the silver tray. He looked at the cabinet, lined with drug vials and fear crushed his chest.

Where the hell am I?

John stared in horror as the door swung in. Two women dressed in white smocks, wheeled in the ECT; electroconvulsive machine. The psychiatric nurses connected the electrodes and placed a dry wooden stick in his mouth.

"Are you ready for your treatment, Mr. Collins?"

by

Peace.

A comfortably unfamiliar bed, the distant sound of snow falling outside, layering the ground with soft ice, isolating our cottage from the world. All was calm, an image of tranquillity and equanimity, the harmonious sound of silence in my warm ears.

I pulled up the soft duvet up to my chin, nestling my head in its warmth and comfort; subconsciously aware that my family would arrive awfully soon. But for now, I could fully enjoy the peace and calming nature that was being offered. I couldn't resist resting my head for a short nap before my family arrived.

I'd arrived, the snow calm outside, only interrupted by my harsh footprints that crunched the softness underneath my boots. When I'd let myself into the small cottage, I had turned on the heaters, laying my coat and scarf on the back of an armchair before exploring the rest of the lodgings. I hadn't got far before I spotted a four-poster bed by the window, its inviting pillows and warmth quickly trapping me underneath its covers.

Suddenly, I jolted out of my relaxed snooze due to a noise outside the bedroom door. A sort of scratching sound, similar to that my cat used to make when he wanted to curl up and sleep next to me.

I shook my head lightly, swinging my legs over the side of the bed and pushing myself up, despite my body resisting, wanting to slip back underneath the covers. Glancing over at the door, I assumed that my family had now arrived. I gazed up at the clock, wondering how long I had been sleeping for.

It was only four in the afternoon. They were arriving at five.

Fear took hold of my entire body as my brain focused on the scratching on the other side of the door.

I wasn't alone.

My breathing doubled in speed as I saw something slip under the door. Cautiously, I approached it, picking it up between my shaking fingertips and slowly unfolding it. And there lay one word scrawled in red ink:

HIDE.

My breath caught in my throat as I dropped the note; it slid away on the wooden ground as I stumbled away from the door until my back slammed against the wall. Hide. Hide from what?

The scratching stopped. Once again, there was silence, all except my heart that was furiously pumping inside my chest. Time passed, and I started to relax, almost laughing at myself.

Then there was a whimper. From directly outside the door.

But that wasn't all. A dark red liquid slowly started to trickle through the gap. I threw my hand over my mouth to stop myself from screaming as I flew to the window, desperately trying to yank it open.

I stopped.

There was now a snowman outside, mocking me, laughing with its bloodstained smile. And it was wearing my scarf.