The Frozen Cabin in Finnish Lapland (and what was in the ice)

So this writer named Matias decided to hide out in a cabin in the middle of Finnish Lapland to finish his novel. We're talking deep in the woods, like dozens of kilometers from any city lights. And the timing? Kaamos season. That's the 40 days where the sun literally doesn't rise. Complete darkness. Just snow piled 100 meters high and bare birch trees for neighbors.

He had a routine. Write in the bluish dark, occasionally glance at the northern lights out the window like it's no big deal. Pretty normal until he found something in the forest.

One day during a snowstorm he's taking a walk and discovers this frozen lake deep in the woods. And in the middle of the ice, there's something black. Looks like an old reindeer antler carved into some kind of pagan totem. Whatever. But THEN he notices the ice around it.

There are dozens of handprints melted into the ice. Like someone pressed hot metal into it. Perfect human hands. Except they're tiny. Like a 5-year-old's hands. He's like oh cool, perfect for my horror novel, takes some pics.

That night back at the cabin things get weird.

He's drinking whiskey by the fireplace. It's -30 outside, warm inside. Then he notices condensation on the window. Normal right? Except no. It's not the whole window. It's just one spot. About the size of a child's handprint. At the very bottom. And as he's watching, something outside starts scratching an X into the fog. Slowly. With what looks like a tiny finger.

Matias jumps up, grabs a lantern, runs outside. The snow around the cabin is pristine. Just his footprints. No animal tracks. No child tracks. Nothing.

He tells himself it's exhaustion and goes back in.

Then the weird stuff actually starts.

He wakes up and the middle of the floor is soaking wet. Like someone fell through ice, came inside, and just stood there dripping for hours. His manuscript pages are wet too. The ink ran like they'd been crying on them.

And the sounds. He keeps hearing this tapping. Knock knock knock. First he thinks it's snow falling off the roof but no. The sound is coming from inside. Under his bed. Inside the closet. Like teeth chattering. Like someone's been frozen solid and their teeth won't stop hitting together.

He finds an old journal the cabin owner left behind. It has this legend written in it. Something like: "The spirits of children who drowned in winter lakes search for warmth. They never come alone. They hide in the warmest places in the house. If you find their marks... never. Turn off. The lights."

Right then the generator dies. The fireplace goes out with this horrible hissing sound. Complete darkness. And the cold just floods in instantly.

Matias goes still. In the dark he hears it.

...knock... knock... knock...

The teeth chattering isn't hiding anymore. It's everywhere. Surrounding him. And then right behind him. In the rocking chair where he's sitting. He hears something wet and small and quiet whisper:

"Mister... I'm so cold."