The forest was fragrant in that woody, musky way that reminded him of his childhood. It had been years since he last visited the cabin. He rustled through his pocket to find the keys. August 1999. The summer he earned his least favorite nickname.
He briskly walked to the cabin. Passing through some old and noticeably crooked trees, he began to reminisce about that dreadful summer. That specific year was definitely something to remember. “Jaded Jack” they had named him.
By the time he arrived at the cabin it was dusk and its windows glowed with orange light. Jack slowly opened the creaky screen door and stepped over the doormat with a menacing skull and crossbones. Far in the distance a wolf howled.