By Candlelight

The cabin in the woods had been abandoned for years, but one night a candle burned in the window. Well, what was left of the window anyway. The small flame cast long shadows over the decimated infrastructure of what had once been someone’s home.

The fire that took it left only the scarred remains of its bones. The quiet haunt of the revere was soon broken by a small barrage of flashlights and chatter that could only belong to gawky, socially obtuse teenagers.

“And then.” One of them projected in a needlessly loud tone. “I said back off babe, I’m with Becky.”

The lackluster response from everybody, even Becky herself reeked of disbelief but Brian was on the football team and they were at least smart enough to understand social hierarchy. And so, they laughed anyway.

Becky was first to notice the candle and paused warily. Some sense of frontal lobe capacity rearing its uncommonly used head.

“What’s wrong, Babe?” Barry looked towards this week’s object of affection as he spoke.

“Nothing.” Began Becky, as she fidgeted her hands nervously behind her back. “It’s just, that cand-”

“Relax” Barry spoke over her dismissively. “It’s probably just Donovan playing a prank. He’s not here yet right?”

“Classic Donovan.” Jensen spoke up, Another teen desperately trying to garner brownie points.

Becky looked between the two boys before giving a defeated shrug.

“It’s just superstition I guess.”

“Superstition?” Barry asked.

“You haven’t heard?” Becky found her confidence again as Barry, for perhaps the first time seemed to lose his swagger.

“Legend has it that this cabin used to belong to the towns founder and man of the cloth. He used to bring his mistresses up here.”

Barry leaned in to high five Jensen while Becky rolled her eyes.

“That’s not all.” She continued, liking her newfound power in the situation.

“He used to light a candle in the window as a signal to let his mistress know the coast was clear.”

“Then what?” Asked Jensen, though he already knew the story, most of the kids who’d been born in their sleepy little town did. Barry however, had been a transfer.

“Then.” Becky clicked on her flashlight under her face, a malicious smile that she liked to keep hidden forming. “One night while his wife was out of town, the house burned down. Taking both him and his scarlet harlot with him.”

Becky garnished her tale with a mocking gesture of a cross and created an eerie moving shadow. Had Barry been using the right head, he would have noticed the scarlet flag.

“Some say” Jensen interjected, determined to be relevant. “You can hear them going at it on a clear night.”

Jensen, who clearly hoped to instill fear, frowned when Barry laughed.

“Good one guys, we had ghost stories in New York too.”

“Not like this.” An emboldened Jensen declared. “Word has it, if you blow out the candle you’ll meet the same fate.”

Barry looked lost for a moment, then wrapped his arm around Becky in the best power play a 17 year old boy could muster. Becky hesitated for a moment. then leaned into it.

Jensen looked on impressed, apparently New Yorker’s were born with courage in their blood. Nobody pulled moves like that on Becky Sinclair without a good groveling first. Barry however seemed to have the advantage of being and looking like he was from the big city.

The sound of leaves and branches crunching under heavy footsteps broke Jensen’s thoughts and the one and only Donovan appeared.

“Donovan. Nice trick with the candle bro!” Barry blurted and Jensen watched Becky’s doe eyes turn cold as soon as he turned away.

Donovan stepped out of the brush holding up his fathers best bottle of ‘Jack Daniels’ triumphantly. He bowed.

“Ladies and gentleman put away your lame ass coolers!” He declared with a dramatic flamboyance far beyond his age.

The teens brightened, their group complete. And then, they drank.

It was sometime later that the bottle had been unceremoniously emptied. Barry who had consumed enough alcohol to embolden a small army turned to a very attentive Becky. She giggled, letting the ungodly amount of unholy liquid dull her senses.

“Come to mine later.” He whispered as Donovan and Jensen talked animatedly across from them. “My Dad’s gone this weekend.”

“Maybe.” Becky giggled noncommittally and kissed his cheek. He smirked and looked over at Donovan.

“Good one with the candle man.”

“What Candle?” Donovan looked confused.

“Seriously?” Barry questioned. “I get it, troll the new guy.”

“I’m not trolling man.” Donovan replied, still very confused.

Barry now had the stage, and as a young man hell bent on sealing the deal he felt the need to do his best impression of Donkey Kong beating is chest.

“I get it, you’re picking on the new guy. You want me to blow out the candle.”

Everybody except Barry paused, knowing intrinsically that even in their altered state some superstitions should well be left alone. Barry however, did not. Building upon his established sense of judgement, he did the exact opposite. He marched up to the candle before unceremoniously blowing it out.

Around them, the world seemed to still and the wildlife seemed to take their own apprehensive pause, then everything returned to normal. They all laughed and Donovan, though he still denied lighting the candle had to respect Barry’s gumption.

The laughter died and the teens pulled what was left of their common sense as well as their belongings together to make the admittedly inconvenient trek through the woods home. When finally they stumbled through the trail’s exit to the very suburbs they sought to hide from, they parted. Becky, pulled away from Barry who encouraged her to please, meet him at his place. In fact, he insisted that she wouldn’t regret it.

“Maybe” She responded. “Drive your dad’s car to school to pick me up tomorrow?”

Becky gave an unfirming laugh then flounced off leaving Barry alone for the short walk to his father’s big empty house.

He punched in the electronic pin code. His father had been big on upgrading the house when they moved, and Barry was honestly just praying that this school wouldn’t start calling him the Jetsons kid.

It was precisely half an hour later when Barry heard the doorbell ring. He looked around his room, trying to spot anything that might need hiding then moved towards the door. Reaching his front door, Barry leaned against the frame as he opened it.

There stood Becky in all her perfectly curled, blonde haired glory. The length of the skirt also helped, had it always been that short? Becky swanned into his house, smiling shyly as the leaned against the stairs.

“I changed my mind.”

Barry did his best not to do his finest impression of s slack jawed goldfish. He had hoped but not actually expected this. Instead, he picked up his posture and extended an arm.

“My room’s this way, lock the door.”

Becky seemingly obliged and it was much later when she straddled him on his bed that she uttered words he had not expected to hear.

“How romantic, you lit a candle for me.”

Barry turned to look at his bedside table where a small, weathered, black candle sat flickering in the night. For the first time that night Barry’s sense of survival kicked in. In a sobering motion he sat up, pushing against Becky. Unmoved she continued her movements until her mouth was right neck to his ear.

“Burn for me.” She whispered.

Was that smoke he smelled? Barry tried to extinguish it but the candle’s flame engulfed it’s holder and caught the night stand. Still, Becky’s weight held him down, he tried to push her off him and it was in this movement he got a good look at her.

Gone was his perfect Becky, instead a melting woman ablaze sat atop him.

“Burn for me.” This time he screamed!

The fire radiated violently off her, catching his clothes. He smelt his skin burning and as he screamed, he turned to his nightstand. There amidst the flames sat a small flickering candle.