There’s a legend about a cabin that sits at the edge of a lake. It’s small. The lake is filled with trout and it’s a good fishing spot.

Normally, it’s peaceful and quiet.

But every full moon a fog rolls in and covers the lake in a dense mist.

It becomes eerily quiet. Until you hear a blood curdling scream.

Some say it’s the tortured screams of a woman who once drowned there. At night you can hear splashing, then thumping.

And the sounds of a low moan as something drags itself onto the shore.

By then most people have already run away. Those who don’t disappear. Likely dragged to the bottom of the lake never to be seen again.

But if you were to stay, you might hear the sobbing that follows. And in the fog you might be able to make out the figure of a woman in a red dress.

A ghoulish figure. But something isn’t quite right. Her neck is long and distended. Skin stretched tight around a bony spine.

She doesn’t walk like a normal woman. She walks like a beast, on all fours. Slow and stalking like something from your earliest nightmares.

You might see her crawl towards the cabin and hear the cracking of bones. Her body is fragile like glass. Snapping and shattering with every movement.

When she reaches the cabin she reaches up to grab the door handle and lets herself inside.

When the door closes behind her it’s silent. She stays for 10 to 15 minutes. After those minutes are up a loud, monsterous roar echoes across the lake.

Then there’s more sobbing. After some time, she emerges from the cabin and follows the same path back to the waters edge.

Where she slowly submerges herself, submitting to the murky depths.

Waiting until the next full moon.