Candle in the Dark

The Cabin in the woods had been abandoned for years, but one night, a candle burned in the window. That night was the last night I saw my sister alive.

Emily and I had grown up near a lake, not far from the cabin. I still remember the feeling I got the first time I walked near it. I could feel it’s breath; heavy and stagnant. It tugged at me, like it had it’s own gravitational pull. I found myself inside the door of the cabin, my back to the warped door frame with no recollection of walking inside. I quickly exited the cabin, heart pounding. I always tried to give it a wide berth after that. Emily always felt different about the place. At just 8 years old, she romanticized the sagging porch and hanging vines. She commented on the waves in the one remaining pane of glass on a front window. She longed to enter the cabin and make it a home. It always struck me as an odd attachment; I could not say I felt the same about the cabin, but I never commented on the matter. It would be years later that the candle would appear in the window.

Past the cabin in the clearing was the most beautiful lake I had ever seen at my young age. The water was crystal clear at the edges and transitioned to a deep sapphire in its center. Thousands of pine trees surrounded the lake in ceremonious circles, giving Emily and I shade from the summer heat. Our family had picnics in the afternoon and campfires in the evening. The pine branches were aromatic and made the best popping noises before their embers swirled into the sky like fireflies. Emily was always quiet on campfire nights. She seemed to just take everything in, absorbing it like a sponge.

It was always on those nights on the way back home that she would stop and speak to the cabin. She would pause after speaking, as if hearing a response from the derelict building. It never phased her that our parents would attempt to deter her from the cabin. She would ignore them when they would tell her it was not safe to go near, and that she needed to stop speaking to the cabin. It was unnatural. Odd. Scaring them. Nevertheless, Emily would continue her unrequited love for the cabin.

Emily was 13 when she noticed something in the window at the old cabin. Our parents had been unable to deter her from the cabin, even with years of warning. Emily would find herself getting closer and closer to the cabin each time she went to the lake. She was about ten feet from the first sagging stair when she noticed a scrap of fabric hanging just inside the window with the single pane. Faded yellow with bursts of small blue flowers. She felt a familiar tug at her heart before walking from the cabin and going to the lake.

On her way back that evening, in the middle of the dark forest, a single flame was aglow. When her eyes adjusted, they widened in awe as she realized there was a burning candle in the window of her cabin. The scrap of fabric was illuminated and the window pane sparkled with each flicker of the candle. Emily immediately approached the old cabin, eagerly climbed the creaking stairs, and entered the cabin.

I knew I needed to gain control of myself before Emily arrived. I knew she felt me there, in the darkness. She would come almost daily to speak to me. She spoke about how happy and comfortable the cabin made her feel. She knew I was in the cabin somewhere, waiting. Mom and Dad had grieved most of Emily’s Life. She was only 8 when I disappeared. I was 10 years old when I found myself inside that cabin. When I ran out, I found myself right back inside its insidious walls, never to leave. I tried to scream. I tried to run. I prayed. Begged. Nothing freed me from the cabin. I found some happiness when Emily walked by and spoke with the cabin and I. I could tell she was so lonely, desperate for love. I tore a piece of my dress and hung it on her favorite window. I could tell she knew immediately what it was. I knew she would be back.

Lighting a candle would take every bit of energy I had. I knew it was the only way she would come inside the cabin, so I practiced for months. I knew when she saw my dress in the window that it had to be tonight. I managed to get the candle to the window sill, and needed to rest. I heard her footsteps approaching, twigs snapping beneath her feet. I knew if I had a heart it would be pounding. I struck the match; didn’t work. Two left. I struck the second. Went out before I could touch the wick of the candle. There she was in the clearing, now or never. I struck the final match and watched as the glow increased and illuminated me in the window. Emily saw it. Saw me. She walked towards the cabin…