The Haunted Cabin Santiago didn’t want to admit he was scared. A s told to Juliana Marín 0 I llustrAted By Steve Bjorkman
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knew it was a bad idea to go to the old abandoned cabin at night. I grabbed a machete from the shed and noticed Fabio slip a rosary and a Bible down his shirt. “Come on, Santiago,” Laura said eagerly, tugging at my arm. “ You’re not scared, are you?” “I’m the oldest, aren’t I?” I snapped. “I’m carrying the machete, and I’m in charge of protecting all of you.” I strode forward, slashing at the bushes in my way. That brave speech was more to convince myself than any of the others. Next I started telling ghost stories. My secret strategy was to scare them enough to turn back. It backfired. By the time we could see the haunted cabin, I’d thoroughly spooked myself out. “Hey, guys, let’s rest awhile,” I suggested, playing for time. I really didn’t want to get any closer. Laura smirked, but she sat down next to Andrés and me. Only Fabio kept going. “Santiago!” Fabio’s voice came in a loud, hoarse whisper. I turned my head. He stood at the top of the hill, as if in a trance. “Look, Santiago, look!” Fabio breathed. “The blessed virgin Mary! She has come to us!” The back of my neck started to tingle. Laura scrambled up to him. “ What is—” She couldn’t finish her sentence. I got up and peered over the hill. There, illuminated by the full moon, stood a tall white figure with long slender arms, surrounded by a hazy glow. I panicked. “Run!” Andrés spun around and flew down the hill. Laura
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