Fading in the Woods.

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

It didn’t matter where you were in our sleepy little town of Lansdowne, you could always see the Alden family’s old cabin on top of the cliff. In the summertime, it was harder to see behind the canopy of trees; between all the different shades of green that littered the different edges of the cliff. The trees gnarled and twisted all the way up. In the winter, with the trees bare — you could see it more clearly, sitting on top of the jagged rocks. It was a small traditional log cabin. A partial veranda wrapped around the right side of the cabin, while a stone chimney jutted out to the left side. It had large, lonely windows that glared down at all of us.

Nothing exciting ever happened in Lansdowne, so when Barbara Alden went missing in 1967, the stories swirled around about what had happened. Her family owned the cabin in the woods. The Alden’s had owned most of Lansdowne at that point. During one of their usual summer stays, Barbara, 17 at the time, was reading outside on the porch swing like she did most mornings. When her sister, Nancy, came out to call her in for tea; she was gone. Never to be seen again. They searched for her to no avail, but she was never found. Some thought she ran away, some thought she fell off one of the overhangs; but most thought something more sinister had happened, that she had been killed.

One by one, all the Aldens went missing or mad. Lionel, their only son, left Lansdowne and never returned. It was as if he vanished into thin air too. Caroline and Nancy, Barbara’s mother and sister would go to the cabin every year on the anniversary of her disappearance, just in case she came back. Exactly 5 years after she went missing, Louis loaded his rifle at the Alden Manor, shot Caroline in the face, then his remaining daughter in the back of the head. He made his way up to the cabin alone that year, and turned the rifle on himself, ending his life and their family's misery.

Something strange happened as the years went by, rather than being plagued by the horrific incident; it disappeared from the memory of most folks in Lansdowne. Or they refused to talk about it. Almost like it never happened at all, just a cautionary tale about getting lost in the woods and why we should stay away from them. It was the allure of these stories and the mystery around the cabin that kept the thrill alive for the children of Lansdowne.

As kids, the lure of the cabin had us spending our summer evenings daring each other to go up there. The further up the path you wandered, you could feel a strange force in the air. Something that made you feel uneasy; something a little unnerving. Kind of exhilarating. No one ever made it too far up the old path, we knew better than that. Our parents forbid it.

One of those summer evenings, I strolled a little too far during my dare and got lost. After a couple of hours of searching, they found me surrounded by briars, mud, and nasty moss. I only had a few scratches and some bug bites — but my parents were never the same after that. I was never the same after that.

When I was 14, a group of seniors from my high school made a habit of climbing the northwest side of the cliff. They used one of the larger precipices as a place to have parties, or to, you know…

The town of Lansdowne erected a memorial plaque after they disappeared; to serve as another reminder to keep us from going into the woods. Their names were Jessica, Trevor, Beau, and Patricia.

No one talked about it again. Ever.

It was around the time of their disappearance that I became obsessed with the cabin and the woods. I tried to ask my parents what they knew about the mysterious cabin, but that didn’t go over well. When I asked them to recall the time I went missing for a few hours, I was prohibited from asking again. I turned my attention to the missing teenagers instead. I tried to talk to Beau’s sister about the night he went missing — she ended up jumping on me in the school hallway and dug her nails so deep into my face that it left a permanent scar.

The strangest part, was when I noticed that Jessica was suddenly missing from all the basketball photos in the trophy cabinet. I’m the one who took those photos for our yearbook that year; we had won the championship and she was the team captain. I asked my teacher if someone was messing with the display. They all acted as if I were the crazy one for asking these questions.

I took matters into my own hands, and eventually found my way into the town archive at the library. The room smelled of faint vanilla. It was lined with tight, messy rows of books, boxes, and files from floor to ceiling. Everything was covered in light gray dusting. The occasional cobweb made an appearance in the deepest corners of the room. There was a rickety wooden ladder with wheels on one wall — it squealed when you rolled it along the tiled floor.

I would spend hours reading under the dim light in the archive room. I consumed everything I could about Lansdowne–especially anything about the cabin or the Alden’s. One chilly fall afternoon, I came across something peculiar. A small wooden crate. It contained a photo album that was coming apart at the seams and a file folder with some documents. I flipped through the faded folder first and found the Alden’s children’s birth certificates — right there, in front of me — Barbara Alden; born October 6, 1950. There it was — some record of her existence. She wasn’t just a made-up story.

I turned my attention to the photo album. Some images were faded entirely, but from the ones I could make out, there were some baby photos of Nancy and Lionel — the other Alden siblings. Photos of family outings. An older Lionel was next to a horse holding a mallet. A picture of Louis Alden, looking sternly at the camera, with two English springer spaniels sitting on each side of him. A beautiful picture of Caroline Alden, in a summer dress standing in a field of sunflowers wearing a subtle smile.

It was when I turned the page to a family portrait, that something else caught my eye; there they were; Louis in the middle, Caroline standing next to him. Lionel standing on the other side of his father. Nancy sitting on a chair in front of both parents with both dogs lying at her feet looking straight at the camera. Next to Nancy — there was what looked like the faded silhouette of a young woman, a partially visible hand on her shoulder. I quickly flipped back through the album, looking more closely at all the distorted pictures again. I grabbed a looking glass from the desk and carefully studied each image, this time more slowly — there they were. Faded images of what I think was Barbara. I shut the album and slid it back into the crate. As I did this, a polaroid fell to the floor.

How strange, I thought to myself. What would a polaroid be doing in here?

To my bewilderment, it was a photo of the four teenagers sitting on a porch swing. I dropped the photo back into the crate and left the room in a hurry.

That was weird.

That night I tossed and turned while it rained. I looked out my bedroom window, staring at the cabin on the cliff.

As quickly as I thought I had seen a tiny glow coming from between the trees, it was gone quicker. I couldn’t see anything but the outline of the cabin dotted in the distance above me as the sound of thunder rocked me to sleep.

I went back to the library the next morning, but the archive room was locked. The librarian told me there had been water damage and most of the room was beyond repair. I was devastated and in disbelief. I asked her if I could rummage through whatever was left, and this time, more sternly, she told me no. I would not be allowed back in the archive room ever again.

That’s the moment I decided I was going to hike up to the cabin. I owed it to myself to figure out what was really going on in the woods where the cabin stood. I owed it to Barbara and the teenagers who had gone missing. I needed to know the truth.

While most seniors were getting ready for the big graduation party on the docks, I was stuffing a backpack full of flashlights, a first aid kit, extra battery packs, and some snacks. I called my best friend, Sarah, and told her where I was going and that I needed her to cover for me–in case my parents wondered where I was. The hardest part would be climbing the northwest side of the cliff.

Before I knew it, I was standing under the plaque. The memorial that was erected to honour the teenagers that had gone missing a few years before:

“Justice awaits those responsible; In this life or the next”

This part of the cliff was made of steep long rocks with pockets small enough to grab with my hands, but barely big enough for my boots to comfortably rest on each one. This was unquestionably the most dangerous way up, but the fastest route to the cabin. Carefully I worked my way up, watching where my next step would be. My arms were hurting from pulling myself upwards.

Suddenly, from above me, a loose rock came tumbling down and missed my head by an inch. I let out a scream, losing my footing, my legs dangling below while struggling to regain my footing. The narrow ledge I had chosen to move to had slipped away beneath me. Using whatever strength I had left, I pulled myself up over the final overhang above me. I was safe.

I took a minute to catch my breath and regain my bearings; I let out a nervous laugh and sat down on a fallen tree trunk. From where I was sitting, I could see a sliver of the cabin through the tall pine trees. For a second, I thought I caught a twinkle of light flickering in the window of the cabin; the adrenaline of the climb was playing tricks on my mind.

A strange fog had settled in; making it difficult to see too far ahead. The trail was rocky as I zigzagged upwards in the direction of the cabin. The trees would thin out in some areas so I could see the night sky if I looked up. The stars and moon were the only lights twinkling through the fog above me in the forest that engulfed me. In other parts of the hike up, I couldn’t see anything above or below me. I climbed in complete silence with laser focus. The closer to the top I climbed, the trail narrowed so much that I had to shuffle along it with my back against the rocky walls of the cliff.

After what seemed like an entirety, it was finally flattening out. The trees were thicker, larger, and older. Their roots created natural stairs on the ground before me. There was dampness around me, and the smell of rotting leaves filled the air; it was almost comforting. I stopped for a moment to take a deep breath, to remember the distinct smell; a light evening breeze caressed my face. An owl hooted from somewhere above. The cabin wasn’t too far off. It was within sight, and I would be there soon. Just a little bit further. Just a little bit more. I stepped forward and then everything went black.

I woozily opened my eyes — darkness embraced me. It took a minute for my eyes to adjust and for my mind to register where I was. My head was throbbing. Tall dark images started to come into focus as I tried to get up and shake off whatever just happened, but I was dizzy and needed a minute.

Trees. They were just trees.

Slowly my senses awakened again to the smell of pine needles and dead leaves. The cold air hugged me and sent shivers down my spine. I touched the spot on my head where the throbbing was coming from — I must have fallen off the path and knocked my head. The dark, thick, warm wetness on my hand was blood.

I crawled around on my hands and knees, shuffling through the foliage, searching the ground around me for my bag and flashlight but nothing was there.

Fear started to set in. The air changed. It felt heavier. There was an unsettling quietness. It was harder to breathe than I remembered. Each breath quickened. I could feel my heartbeat rushing and my anxiety rising.

Stay calm, I told myself. Stay calm. Breathe.

Then I heard it. The snap of a twig. My head whipped around. There was nothing there. Just darkness and the sound of my shaky breath.

As my eyes continued to adjust to the blackness of the forest, its outline was now clearer than ever; I was right in front of the cabin.

How could I be in front of the cabin if I had fallen off the trail? Shouldn’t I be further away? I was confused.

Through the trees, I could see all of Lansdowne. Just like we looked up at the cabin all our lives, it was looking back at us this whole time.

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

I felt something in my pocket and realized it was my cell phone. I pulled it out to text Sarah, but it was cracked. I couldn’t see the screen at all. I must have shattered it during my tumble.

“Hey Siri, send Sarah a message,” I said out loud.

“What do you want to say?”

“I’m at the cabin, I fell. I think I hit my head. Someone is in the cabin. I’m going to check it out.”

Siri repeated the message back to me. “Ready to send it?”

“Yes”

“Okay. It’s sent.”

I pulled myself up. Lightheaded, but I managed to shake it off this time.

The cabin looked different up close, it was quainter than I imagined. Once inviting, now dirty and the paint chipped and peeling from its once beautiful exterior. There was something about it that felt eerily calm. It was a bit unnerving.

“Hello?” I called into the darkness that surrounded the cabin.

I walked towards the front door, the window to the left, illuminated by the candle that had been lit. I walked around on the veranda, there was the old porch swing. It swayed back and forth with each breath the wind took.

I had seen this swing before. It was the same swing the teenagers were on in that polaroid. 

It must be the same swing where Barbara was last seen by her family.

As I rounded around the corner, making my way back to the door, the closer I got, the more unsettled I felt. I tried to peek into the window by leaning over the railing, but the railing shook unsteadily.

Bad idea, I thought.

I knocked on the door. Nothing.

I went to push the door open, but it didn’t budge. I leveraged my body weight and gave it another push. It moved slightly. Barely.

“Hello??” I called through the opening I had made. Still nothing.

I moved back a bit, lowered my shoulder, and pushed against the door at full force. I stumbled inside this time.

The candle dimly lighted the cabin. It cast dancing shadows all around the room. My eyes adjusted once more. I looked around, taking it all in. The room was square with a door that led to a single bedroom in the back. A simple layout with an open concept. Old pictures lined the walls. A single chair was in the middle of the room, facing one of the big windows. Dusty furniture scattered around the room as if someone had moved it away from the chair. I noticed some dark stains on the wall and floor behind the chair. A desk was positioned between a deer and bear head mount on the opposite wall of the chair. Some yellowed papers were scattered across it. I moved towards the desk to investigate; a picture frame on the desk caught my attention.

It was the same family portrait I had seen in the photo album in the archive room. Except for this time, there she was. Not faded, but perfect. She was tall and dark. Her eyes were strikingly light. She was holding a book in one hand. Her hair was long and tied back with a ribbon. Her dress was plain but pretty. Her hand resting on Nancy’s shoulder. I caught my breath with childish excitement. It was Barbara. An actual photo of Barbara. I flipped through some of the papers on the desk and noticed something else. On the desk, carved deeply into the wood, were the names of the missing teenagers: Jessica, Trevor, Beau, and Patricia.

I stumbled backward, bumping into the chair, startling myself. I needed to get out of here and back into the safety of the woods and down the cliff as quickly as possible.

Something isn’t right here.

I could feel it. When all at once, a gust of wind slammed the cabin door shut. No matter how hard I tried, it wouldn’t open. I could see strange shadows twirling around the room. I turned around slowly, feeling uneasy as if I was being watched, but nothing was there.

“Helloooo?” I called in the direction of the back room. Nothing.

I noticed the candle again. Just sitting there on the window ledge, flickering. It seemed to burn brighter, beckoning me towards it.

As if something took me over all at once — I felt my legs moving, moving me closer to the candle. Each step felt like it was controlled by someone else. Unnaturally I moved towards it. My mind fixated on the candle. Entranced by it. The quivering light. I was standing in front of it. Watching the flame prancing around. My hand reached forward, feeling the heat on my palm, the burning sensation of leaving it there too long. I couldn’t move it. Tears streamed down my face silently as I willed my body to listen to me. But it didn’t.

My whole body trembled as my hand moved closer and closer to the wick. The pain of holding it there was setting in. I tried to scream, but my mouth betrayed me. Nothing came out.

Everything went black again.

+ + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + +

“Alyyyyy??? Where are you???” Sarah called into the darkness.

She clutched her phone in her hand using its flashlight to light up the area around her. Sarah and a few of their friends decided to go looking for Aly. They split up to cover more ground in the area they were searching.

From where Sarah was standing, she could barely see the cabin’s outline in the dark above her.

“Aly? This isn’t funny!” She cried out again in the thickness of the trees.

Nothing.

Panic was setting in for Sarah. Everyone in Lansdowne knew the stories about the woods and the cabin.

She was so consumed by her thoughts about what had happened to her friend, that she almost didn’t hear the rustling behind her.

Startled, Sarah turned to look, only to see a figure in a plain white dress standing there, her hair pulled back. It was gently blowing in the wind behind her. The moonlight lit up her fair skin and her striking eyes. A book in her hand. She looked maybe 17.

“Aly?? Is that you?” Sarah whispered.

“Who’s Aly? I’m Barbara.”

At the same moment, one of the other friends came running back. “Oh my god. I found Beau.”

Sarah backed away slowly, confused. Still holding her phone in her hand, she fumbled with it to call for help. She looked down at her lock screen, it used to be a picture of her and Aly, but now, the picture had faded.