Cabin Fever

The cabin in the woods had been abandoned for years, but one night, a candle burned in the window.

It cast long shadows against the lawn of the old Bennet home as screams went up into the night, followed swiftly by a single shot and then silence.

- Sunday

Old Harold Ziskin had been the groundskeeper for the old Bennet property his whole life. He’d been there longer than anyone else on staff. He’d been there longer than Patricia, the housekeeper with the fake smile and teenage son. He’d been there longer than Tony, the Groom with the gambling problem. He’d been there longer even than Nancy, the new Head of housekeeping whose job he could have had if he had wanted.

Yes, Harold loved being a groundskeeper; it was good, honest, Christian work. It kept him spry in his old age, and he couldn’t imagine living anywhere else.

He ruminated on all this from the back porch as he watched the sun rise over the picturesque lawn, the perfectly trimmed bushes, and the tightly kept garden beds. Everything within sight thrived at his hand; life sprang into being at his fingertips. He was the master of all in this place. He’d never married, never had children. He didn’t need to; everything he needed was here.

It was with this energy that Harold carried on with his day, indeed, with his life. Once the sun was up, he busied himself with readying his tools, checking the ph of the soil, measuring the grass, patching the lawn, and digging for moles.

Sundays were the calm days before the week’s chaos, and the drama of the house staff pervaded the house, wafting after them like a stink that won’t wash out.

But today was quiet, calm, and productive, and Harold felt great satisfaction as he made his way to the pub down the lane at the end of the day.

It was a small place, easily missed by those ignorant of its existence. Nestled between a defunct tax lawyer’s office and a laundromat, it was a tall thin building with little charm. The inside was similar and only attracted one or two patrons a night. Harold being one of them, and Tony, the shifty Groom, being the other.

“Hey, Harold!” Tony called with a warm smile.

Groaning to himself, Harold moved towards him slowly.

“Hey there, Tony, how are ya?”

“Oh, I’m great; you see the race the other day? Those ponies can run, eh?”

The night went on in this fashion, each buying a beer for the other until they both waddled home on unsteady legs, singing the glories of Ajax, Apollo, and Blaze. Separating and going off to their own chambers once they reached the house.

It has been a good day. Harold readied himself for bed, kicking off his boots, and sank roughly onto the bed when something from the corner of his eye caught his attention. A glimmering of light from the window. It caused him to stand and look out the window. But there was nothing there, just the old abandoned cabin at the edge of the property. It seemed to stare back at him, almost defiantly, but dark and cold to be sure. It has sat empty for decades, rotting away at the edge of the treeline, wild and unruly. Harold hated it.

Chalking it up to the beer, Harold turned in for the night, quickly forgetting about any lights, race horses, or decaying cabins as unconsciousness overtook him.

- Monday

Harold woke that morning in much the same energy as the day before, all thoughts of horse and candles gone from his mind. He rose, greeted the day, and went about his business. Being Monday, he had a household meeting with Nancy and Patricia.

Walking down the familiar halls, the early morning sun glinted off the baseboards, and birds trilled on a branch outside the window. Harold turned the corner into the head housekeeper’s quarters for the morning meeting.

She greeted him with a warm smile.

“Good Morning, Harold. How are you this morning?”

“I’m well, Nancy; thank you for asking.”

The air filled with silence as they waited for Nancy, the young housekeeper who worked under Patricia. Her husband had recently left her and their teenage son a month ago. So her lateness wasn’t out of the ordinary.

Harold’s mind wanders, and he suddenly remembered the night before.

“Oh, was the family letting out the cabin in the back? Cuz I haven’t sprayed it down or anything in a while.”

Nancy’s brows sank down over her pale eyes in confusion.

“No, the cabin isn’t fit for anyone; there shouldn’t be anyone there.”

A bell went off deep in Harold’s subconscious, like an itch deep in his brain.

“Oh, well, I thought I saw something out there last night.”

Nancy nodded blithely.

“Ok, I’ll look into it.”

Patricia walked in at that moment, much to Harold’s relief.

The rest of the day came and went much like every other day. Mowing lawns, trimming shrubs, drinks with Tony.

Nothing out of the ordinary until that evening, upon returning from the pub, there was, yet again, a flickering light in the cabin a the edge of the wood.

Harold stared hard this time, determined not to be mistaken. It was there, flickering in the window.

Harold turned away to grab his phone, but when he turned back, it vanished.

Sleep did not come so quickly that night.

- Tuesday

The following day Harold could think of nothing but the light in the cabin window. Was it some neighborhood kids playing jokes? Was it a squatter? Harold had to notify the Head of the House.

The morning meeting was a blur, with some talk of watching the grass and a drought. When it came time for Harold to speak, he burst forth with the news of the light, sure it would be of note. But once the words were out of his mouth, they seemed to die in the air. Nancy reassured him that she had checked the cabin the day before, which was indeed locked and empty.

So Harold continued his day, trimming the grass and mowing the shrubs. A hurried drink with Tony and back to his room to watch for the light.

Sure enough, it appeared. Strong and steady. Harold was ready this time; he raised his phone and clicked several pictures before the light disappeared, causing him to yell out in frustration when he found that it did not appear in any of the photos.

Sleep did not come for him at all that night.

- Wednesday

The following day found Harold haggard and worn out from the night before. He dressed hurriedly and made his way to the head housekeeper’s quarters.

Nancy was alone when he entered; no doubt Patricia was off taking care of that delinquent son again, Harold thought sourly.

“Nancy! Something is going on in that cabin!” Harold boomed.

Nancy’s brows descended almost an inch.

“Harold, are you alright? You look like you could use some rest.”

“It’s the light, Nancy; it’s out there every night!”

Harold’s eyes were round, and spittle flew from his lips. Nancy eyed him like a trapped animal, eyes a predator.

“Ok, Harold, Y’know, I’m going to give you the day off. How does that sound?”

A shock went through Harold, causing him to lose his previous vigor.

“I… don’t need—” he stammered.

Nancy was hearing none of it; she rushed him from the room as Patricia, and her son came around the corner.

“Damn delinquent!” Harold hissed after them.

He wasn’t going to let them ruin him like this, he thought as he snuck the cabin key from Nancy’s desk on the way out.

That night he skipped the drink with Tony and headed straight for the cabin, loaded rifle in hand.

The sun sank low as he approached, gun slung over his forearm.

The key ground inside the lock as he pushed it angrily inside. The door creaked slowly as he forced his way in.

Harold’s insides screamed as he readied himself with triumph for what he knew he was about to see.

But when he finally got inside, there was nothing. It was empty.

Tears stung Harold’s eyes as he looked around for anything to latch onto. When suddenly, there was a sound from behind him. He turned suddenly to see the flash of a candle and, without looking, raised his gun and unloaded.

The gun report seemed to hang in the air forever as Harold watched in Horror as Patricia Son sank to his knees and fell to the ground. His girlfriend shrieked in terror behind him.

End