The Dry Thing

I was driving the Mystery Machine in the rain through the woods when I got a rear flat tire, so I had to ride the rims for about five miles. I came to a little abandoned cabin, and it was rather desolate. I went inside for shelter and began to look around. Through a door's window, which is framed an pink curtains, I see The Dry Thing. Its skin was the color of charcoal, or burnt meat, and it was tight stretched and without texture over bone. Its head was slightly longer than a man's, and in its eye sockets were sunken little orbs, black and featureless. It had no expression, because its skin was so thin and wrapped so tightly. It awoke in me some primal fear. I awoke sweating, panting.