My story begins on a beautiful day at Pine Ridge Cabins and Camp Site situated two hours from Ottawa. I had previously been in Quebec and Nova Scotia because I was visiting some relatives and also because my second cousin was getting married at a blueberry farm. The reason we were staying in a cabin was because my uncle had booked both families of the bride and groom to stay in the cabins so that we could get to know each other before the big day.
My 2nd cousin and her husband, my uncle and his wife, his wife's sister and dad, my grandfather and I all stayed in one cabin called the 1820 until the the rest of the family arrived. The cabin was very spacious with lots of very old furniture, the only things that were modern about it were, the appliances in the kitchen and the tv.
When we first loaded our luggage into the cabin, me, being the fashionista that I am, had the most clothing and jewelry so I had to lug this great big suitcase up the stairs to the top floor. When I got up there, the lighting was really dim and I got this really creepy vibe. I quickly put my suitcase in a room and rushed back down stairs.
When I got to the living room, I noticed this large portrait on the wall of this very stern looking woman who looked like she was in her mid-thirties. The portrait creeped me out more than being upstairs. I felt like the eyes were following me so I decided to sit with my back to the portrait to try and get my mind off of the vibes I kept getting. A minute later I got a text from my mom asking me how the cabin was. I told her "It's great but there's this picture of a women on the wall and it's giving me the heebie jeebies". From that point on I really didn't feel comfortable going upstairs unless someone else was up there.
On the first night, I slept in the room with the comfiest bed. I felt a lot less creeped out in there because I didn't have to sleep in the corridor. I was glad because the next night my grandad and I were to move cabins because the rest of the family was coming up. Sadly, the cabin wasn't booked until the next night. I was not at all pleased because I had to sleep in the corridor the next night, which was right beside the stairs and the picture was right underneath us.
The next day, we decided to ask the people in charge of the camp site the history of the cabin. It turns out that the cabin originally came from Algonquin Park which is three hours away from Ottawa. Anyways, they took down the cabin, bit by bit and then they moved it to the camp site where they re-built the whole thing and then it got it's name. The story goes that the portrait came with the cabin and nobody knows who the woman is, which makes it all the more mysterious. One of the ladies also mentioned that when she comes by to clean up the place and prepare it for the next set of guests, that she feels like the eyes of the woman seem to follow her every time. I felt so relieved that I wasn't the only one who was experiencing this weird phenomena.
That night, I couldn't sleep because I felt even more scared, and as I mentioned earlier, the picture was below us. At about 1:00 pm it was really quiet, my iPhone had switched off and because I still couldn't sleep I decided to watch an episode of Gossip Girl I had downloaded on it. All of a sudden I couldn't believe my eyes, about 2 inches from me, the woman's face was hovering in front of me. I was really scared. I tried to scream but I couldn't because my throat was so dry. I quickly shut my eyes and when I re-opened them, she was gone. Still watching the tv show, I pulled the covers over my head. The next day, I tried to stay out of the cabin for as long as possible. At 3:00 we moved to our new cabin. The creepy feeling had vanished and I felt at ease.
The last time I visited the other cabin was to show my other family members the puppy that I got for graduating high school. To this day, I'm not sure why the woman showed herself to me. Could it be because she didn't want me there? Who knows. If anyone could give me some insight, that would be appreciated.
Thanks for taking the time to read my story,