"A Whiteout Trapped Us in an Unmarked Cabin. One Door Was Nailed Shut" Creepypasta

CreepsMcPasta· Host0:02

We were two days into the Beartooths when the weather decided we weren't welcome. The trip was my idea. It usually was. I found a route that linked three lake basins along the eastern plateau. Nothing technical, just sixty miles of trail above the tree line with views into Wyoming. I'd been planning it since June. Topo maps spread across the kitchen table, elevation profiles taped to the fridge, weather windows circled in red on the calendar like birthdays. October was the window. The crowds were gone, the snow hadn't set in yet, and the aspens in the valleys below would be turning. I sold it to Mike and Scott as the last trip before winter shut everything down. Mike is my brother-in-law. He married my sister eleven years ago, and I've spent more nights in a tent with him than she probably likes. He's a careful hiker, checks the straps on his pack twice, keeps his water bottles in the same pockets every time, tapes his heels before the first blister forms. You want Mike on a trip because he's never the reason something goes wrong. Scott, I've known since college. He was my roommate for two years and the best man at a wedding that didn't take. We don't talk about that. What we do is this.