The Cabin

I visited the cabin again. I had left it for as long as I could bear, using every excuse I could to prevent seeing the ugly place again, or the artefact that lived within.

It was charred, as I had expected from the fire that had overtaken it the last time I was there. The collapsed roof lay smoking on the leaning walls. It looked angry.

The cobbled pathway leading to the door was overgrown and covered in a thick thatch of spiked brambles. I was not welcome anymore, but there was an artefact to find, and I was not going to leave without it again.

I took a deep breath and prepared myself. I took my shirt off and used it to cover my hands before attempting to move the brambles aside. The thorns immediately pierced the material, jabbing into my hands and nicking them.

I took a step back and stared at the brambles for a while, as if I were hoping a solution might emerge from them. I put my hands on my hips and hissed. Nowhere to go but through them.

The walk was painful and difficult. The thorns poked through my jeans and scraped against my skin. I felt a few of them go particularly deep when I stepped forward, and I had to pause to breathe. I fixed my eyes downwards and focused on moving through, step by awful step. I tried to make the best of my bundled shirt and used it to push down any high-growing thorns that threatened my stomach.

When I looked up, I saw that the cabin was just as far away as it had been moments ago, perhaps even more so. I hadn’t moved an inch, and yet I was at the centre of all the brambles. God, I hated that place.

With my limbs pinned and what felt like hundreds of cuts across my torso, I shouted out. It was a loud sound of pain and frustration, sharp and wailing. A tight hand gripped my neck, and tears threatened to fall.

“Oh, I’m sorry, alright?! I am sorry I fucked up the cabin! I waited for too long, and now you’re all burned, and I’m really sorry!”

As if they heard my pleas, the brambles then let me go and pulled themselves back under the soil from which they had emerged. Slithering, they disappeared inch by inch, as if growing backwards into nothing. I was stunned by the display. I knew the cabin had a way of manipulating the world around it, but that truly looked like magic. I looked at the cobbled pathway that had been revealed by the brambles. It looked in better shape than the last time I was there. There were fewer loose stones, and they sat in neat rows.

The door at the end of the path swung open, releasing a puff of old smoke from the cabin. It was as if to say: ‘Are you coming in or not?’

I hastened through the door, immediately feeling my mouth clog with charcoal dust, and I resisted the urge to cough. Instead, I drew in the air calmly, in slow breaths. The cabin was no longer wet and mouldy as it had been the last time. The fire had purged all life from the place, and everything was cracked and dead.

It was then that I noticed that somehow, the mantle had survived. It stood proudly above the fireplace that had so greedily set the cabin ablaze, with the three picture frames still atop it.

I decided to resume my search for the artefact by looking at the pictures. It felt right.

I crossed the room, passing by the charcoal remnants of the sofa frame, and stood before them.

While only one frame was facing the right way last time, now they all faced the wall. Covered in charcoal and unwilling to be observed. The message was clear; I had fucked up.

The farthest to the left, and closest to where I stood, was clearly homemade; paper and glue, with glitter scattered across the surface messily. I reached out and picked up the picture frame, turning it around in my palm.

I used the shirt that was still clutched in my other hand to wipe the glass front of the frame. Inside, there was a picture of two girls, both in primary school uniforms.

They smiled, side by side, with gaps in their teeth and rosy cheeks. One had blonde hair, tied into neat pigtails, and the other had wild, unbrushed curls the colour of coal. It took me a second to realise that that girl was me. I was looking at a picture of me and my childhood best friend.

‘…Alice? I think her name was?’

Suddenly, a wave of nausea hit me, and I found myself unable to stand. I knelt on the floor and screwed my eyes shut.

“We should play fairies again!” Alice whined at me.

“I want to do handstands!” I wailed back.

We stood at an impasse, each of us getting more stubborn by the second. We always played together at lunch, and stuck together no matter what.

“Fine!” Alice screeched, “I’ll find someone else who wants to play fairies with me!”

“Fine!” I yelled back.

I felt my stomach drop as she walked away, across the field towards some other students.

Nevertheless, I stood my ground and started doing handstands on my own. I had to practice if I was going to grow up and make it into the handstand Olympics and make my family proud.

Lunch passed quickly, and soon we were called back to class by the shrill ring of the bell. Children reluctantly migrated towards the classrooms and I walked towards the year 2 door slowly. Alice caught my shoulder as I did, and when I turned to face her she had her arm wrapped around another girl’s shoulders.

“She’s my new best friend, I don’t like you any more,” she said petulantly.

It should not have hurt as much as it did, but I felt my eyes sting with her words.

‘I don’t like you anymore.’

My breath came in short gasps, matching the laughs from Alice and the other girl.

I screwed my hands into fists and bawled.

The memory faded as quickly as the number block had. Only this time, I was crying. My tears landed on the glass of the photo frame, on top of the little face that was once mine. It was raining outside the cabin again, but curiously, not inside.

I looked up and saw that the branch that was once bisecting the roof had gone, and the tin plates had rearranged themselves to cover the cabin from the outside again. It was all but repaired, and the walls of the cabin no longer leaned but stood straight.

My tears fell for a few more moments, and I traced my younger self’s face with my thumb for a while. She was so cute and sweet, but never saw it in herself. All I wanted to do was hug her and tell her she was enough.

Then, I heard footsteps outside the cabin. I placed the photo frame back on the mantle and rushed outside.

“Hello?” I called, noticing how small and fractured my voice sounded.

I looked around the outside of the cabin frantically but saw nothing but more brambles and dirt, and the surrounding forest.

“Hello?” I called again, louder.

I listened for a reply, only to hear the ticking sound again.

‘The artefact,’ I thought greedily, creeping towards the sound. It led me from one wall of the cabin to he next, and as I circled the cabin for a fifth time, it seemed that the sound never got closer or further away.

It seemed rational that I had gotten closer to the artefact by holding the picture frame - well, as rational as anything about that place could have been - and there were two more on the mantle to see! I hurried back inside and grabbed the next frame, not noticing how heavy and expensive it was before looking at the picture.

Inside was me, again, and a young man. I was older this time, twenty or so, and he was the same. Tall and willowy, he stood next to me in a suit.

“Colin?” I said aloud.

Then, my senses were overtaken by the smell of his body spray, the feel of his jacket, and the taste of his lips…

“Do you think we’ll get married one day, babe?” I asked Colin sweetly.

We were preparing for a night out, a fancy dinner just the two of us, like real grown-ups! He was fiddling with his tie in front of a long mirror, tutting at it angrily. I touched his back with my hand and moved to stand behind him. Dressed to our own version of the nines, we were glowing.

I had bought a dress a few months ago, determined for it to make me feel like a woman. That feeling of quiet, sure maturity was something I reached for, but illuded me on many occasions. I felt behind, delayed, and stunted. I remember looking at 20-year-olds as a child and thinking how grown up they looked. They looked in control and craved that in my bones.

When the dress arrived, I tried it on hastily, tags and all. I did my makeup, and took care to add earrings that I felt matched its colour – burgundy.

When I looked at myself in the mirror, I saw a woman.

She stood tall, with full hips and swooping curves. The dress was strapless and had an internal corset. The way it clung to her, all the way down to the floor, created a smooth silhouette of classic femininity. The material was sleek and shiny without looking rubbery, and a long slit was cut from the skirt up to her hip.

Her face held maturity and charisma in equal measure. Her make-up made her eyes look heavy and inviting; her cheeks looked giddy with blush without looking painted, and her lipstick was a sinful red.

When I showed Colin, he looked across me with eager eyes. They swept across my body, stopping at my chest and hips to stare. His attention made me feel powerful.

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“Babe?” I asked him, trying to pull his attention away from his tie.

“What?” he asked absentmindedly.

“Do you think we’ll ever get married?”

“Uh, yeah maybe. Like someday y’know?”

My heart fell a little at that. I wished he’d take his eyes off that tie and look at me again.

“Do you want to book a taxi or shall I?”

“You, I’m still trying to make this tie work.”

“Of course, babe,” I said with a smile, leaving him to find my phone.

I searched around our hotel room to find my mobile. I could have sworn I left it on the bedside table, but no luck. I checked the en suite, the bed, and even the floor before shrugging and picking up Colin’s phone. He wouldn’t mind me using it to book a taxi, I was sure.

I unlocked the device and went to open the online search bar. Before I could type in ‘taxi services near me’, the phone buzzed in my hand. A message from ‘Sandra’ popped up.

Sandra: You’re really gonna blow me off to spend time with that bint?

I felt my heart drop into my stomach. I held my breath as more messages ascended from the phone.

Sandra: She’s not mature enough for you.

Sandra: Wouldn’t you rather be spending your evening with this?

Sandra: Sandra sent a picture

“What are you doing?”

Colin’s voice knocked me out of my trance. It had all happened so fast, I felt breathless. He stood inches away from my face, tie askew.

“Oh, I just picked up your phone, thought it was mine, silly me!” I said quickly, making sure to re-lock the phone in my palm.

“Okay,” he said suspiciously.

“I just picked it up, that’s all,” I said, feeling caught.

“Okay,” he said again, before reaching out his hand, “I’ll order us a taxi.”

“Of course, sorry!” I scrambled to return his phone to him.

He unlocked his phone and smiled slimily. I walked past him to continue looking for my own phone. My mind was stuttering, trying to make sense of what I saw. Who was Sandra? Why wasn’t I mature enough for Colin? What was that picture she sent…

My thoughts were interrupted by Colin’s hand landing heavily over my buttock. He squeezed the flesh there before letting me past.

“That dress looks hot on you by the way.”

I returned to myself quickly. The reliving had sent me back onto the old sofa in the cabin. I sank into it for a moment, tipping my head back and closing my eyes.

I hated Colin, and I hated that dress after what happened in it. In fact, I refused to wear the colour burgundy ever again. We had gone to our dinner, where Colin had spent the entire time on his phone, chuckling. I confronted him about it eventually, but he had gotten very angry that I had violated his privacy and broke up with me. I never even got to say how it had made me feel.

“Betrayal is the worst,” a small voice said next to my ear.

It sounded like a child, or a whisper of one. I cracked open my eyes and realised several things very quickly.

The cabin had restored itself almost entirely. The sofa was blue, snug, and covered in cushions. The floor looked polished and waxed under my feet, and the windows were clear and full. Soft light shone in from the forest outside, and birds were chirping sweetly.

And there, sat next to me on the sofa, was a child. She was about 10 years of age, with jet black curls. She wore a blue dress. She turned to me, her eyes shining with tears.

“Hello Maria,” she said wetly.

I sat stunned, my mouth hanging agape as my brain scrambled to put together the pieces. The thumping of the artefact was so loud now that it was like sitting inside a drum.

“Hello Maria,” I replied.

A/N: I have ended up caring a lot more about this story than I thought I would! It is lovely when a project takes you to unexpected places!

I took a few weeks off from both social media and writing in September, and right as I was starting to feel refreshed and ready to go again, I caught a darn cold! So I apologise if I have missed any of your comments or replies!

I hope you're enjoying this three part story! The conclusion is on it's way!