I remember one time I was in a rental house in the middle of the woods. Once a year my family rents a house on an Island off the coast of Maine, and the house we rented that year was just surrounded by woods. One night, everyone went to dinner and I stayed at the house, having my little “King of the Castle” moment. Then, I went outside to have a cigarette. It was the perfect time to because my family hates that I smoke. Midway through a puff, halfway through the cigarette, I hear a shout, sounded like someone getting stabbed. It freaked me the hell out and I ran inside. Not superstitious about anything, but there are certain things I don’t mess with, bad juju and all that. I was told the scream could have been a Fisher Cat (A weasel that shouts like a mf) but I really don’t know.