NICK WOLANSKI

A REAL HOWLER

The Cabin in the Woods had been abandoned for years, but one night a candle burned in the window, lit only moments ago, by a being of not entirely human constitution. There was something about him that made your skin itch, and the hair on the back of your neck stand up, but it was impossible to say exactly what it was. It was subtle and arose in the deepest part of the subconscious, a message coming from the part of the brain concerned only with survival. The flame bounced and danced, partnered with the gentle breeze flowing through the cabin, illuminating and casting light on the walls, highlighting cobwebs, spiders and a couple of bats that were hanging around in the darkened corners. The man gazed into the flame, the look in his eyes would frighten even death himself. It was a stare of deep and torturous contemplation, and if you were to have locked eyes with him at that moment, it may just have stopped your heart, dead in its tracks. Something in his hand came into view as he shifted positions, resurfacing from the dark recesses of his mind. A pamphlet: The recovery Den, drug rehabilitation centre for young adults, Drum mossy glen; Senior counsellor Mr Flow. It receded into the darkness as quickly as it had come, as he straightened up to his full height, took a deep breathe, then huffed, puffed and blew the candle out.