I stepped off of the crowded city bus, relieved that I finally had some room to breathe.  The glistening snow under my shoes released a satisfying crunch with every step I took.  It was getting pretty late, the only light being from lampposts and the moon.

 As I started to walk back to my cabin, I was about halfway there when I realized another set of footprints tracked in the snow. This was surprising, as I was the only one who lived around here. Intrigued, I followed them, inspecting them as I walked.  They were inwards, heels turned slightly away from each other, but nonetheless, I continued to follow them.  The prints became dirtier the farther I went on, to a maroonish color that contrasted with the snow.

 It broke me away from my trance and I looked around to see where I was.  An old garage stood before me, calling out for me to go inside, so I hesitantly trudged in below the heavy metal door.  Seconds later, that metal door slammed down behind me with an appalling crash.  I saw a man in a deer skull mask emerge from the shadows, holding a trash bag with blood dripping down onto his shoes. 

“I wasn't expecting visitors tonight… but I could make this quick.” 

His distorted voice sent a jolt down my spine, I hadn't heard anything like it, ever.

 Suddenly, the single string light from the ceiling exploded. The room went pitch black, and I felt a rough hand clenching my neck. My breathing was weak. I slowly ran my fingers up the side and felt warm blood lacing my neck.  The man had cut it, and he wasn’t stopping, either.  The last thing I heard was violent laughter before I felt my body hit the cold,  hard pavement.