Grandma's devotional

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

Timmy claimed to have been to see it. “I been to that cabin. I seen that candle.”

Daisy doubted it, but said nothing.

Sara took the bait, though. “You seen it at night?” Sara had big brown eyes and freckles. It made her look even younger than her fourteen years. Plus she could be a little naïve, which made her seem even younger.

“Nah,” said Timmy. “It was in daylight.” He ate a french fry. “I reckon I’ll go see it after dark one of these nights, though.” Timmy was still a little short and had a baby face. Which also made him look young for fourteen.

He would hit a growth spurt soon, if Daisy didn’t miss her guess.

Course, Daisy was also only fourteen. So she figured it was possible she was wrong about some things.

“If I did go at night,” said Daisy, “I’d want to be in a group. Like with friends.”

“Yeah,” said Timmy. “It would be a bad idea to go alone.”

“There have been strange things going on for a couple years now,” said Sara. “Like that guy that died. Curt Claybough.”

Timmy looked down. “That ain’t like they say,” he said.

“I know,” said Sara. “Your brother didn’t do it, Timmy.”

Timmy’s older brother, Hunter, was a troubled teen, and rumored to have done some bad things. Maybe he even killed Curt Claybough. Or maybe not, like Timmy said.

Daisy thought not. She might be wrong about some things, but she was pretty sure she had Hunter figured.

Hunter didn’t kill Curt Claybough, she thought.

But even so, Hunter ain’t worth much. Not much at all.

“Everybody knows,” said Daisy, “that the woods killed Curt Claybough.” She helped herself to one of Sara’s fries. “Or something in them.”

Sara shivered. “Something creepy,” she said.

“Something other than Hunter,” said Timmy.

“Something demonic,” said Daisy.

Timmy choked on a fry and Sara yelped. “Don’t say that, Daisy,” said Sara.

“Everybody thinks it,” said Daisy.

“But don’t talk about it, though. Not out loud.”

“Want me to whisper it?” Daisy asked. “Demonic,” she whispered.

“Stop it, Daisy,” said Sara. She was about to cry.

Daisy stopped it. She liked Sara, but Sara could be a baby. “OK,” she said. “But if we all went up there like Timmy says, I’d want to bring, like, a cross or something.”

“I took my grandma’s pocket devotional,” Timmy said.

Daisy nearly choked on a fry. You did no such thing, she thought. Grandma’s pocket devotional indeed. She had to lower her eyes to keep from laughing.

“Things have been weird though,” said Timmy. “Like that pile of dead squirrels. And the marks on the gravestones in the old cemetery.” He ate a fry. “And now the candle in the cabin.”

“What did you find?” asked Sara. “At the cabin when you went.” She was wide-eyed. Daisy grabbed Sara’s empty glass and got up to get her a refill. She was technically on the clock, after all.

Anyway, she didn’t want to roll her eyes at Timmy’s answer.

Daisy went to the back to get Sara some tea. Burt, the boss, was hollering at Linda. “I told you. You got to take your break before the lunch rush. Ever. Time.”

“I know,” said Linda, “but that big party was here and you said—“

“It don’t matter. You got to.” He shook his finger at her. “And now we are in it.”

Linda was near tears. “But you said—“

“Linda,” said Burt, “I have been running this establishment for nigh on eighteen years. I think I know my own mind.” He waited until she opened her mouth and then spoke again. “You,” he said, “are just going to have to hold it.”

Oh for God’s sake, Burt. It ain’t that busy.

“She can take a break,” said Daisy. “I’ll cover her tables.”

Both people turned to Daisy.

“Daisy,” said Burt, “Linda here believes that I do not know my own mind.”

“I believe no such thing.”

“And she holds,” he said, “that I contradict myself regular.”

“Go to the dang bathroom, Linda,” said Daisy. “Burt. Relax. I got it.”

Burt was irritated. But Daisy, age fourteen, practically ran this place. Burt could not easily do without her.

So he kept his mouth shut.

Daisy hustled out to take care of Linda’s tables. Along the way she heard Timmy say “…but it was just the one candle, tall and straight.”

Daisy kept hustling.

Eventually Sara and Timmy got up to leave. Sara ran over to Daisy. “We’re going. Eight o’clock tonight. Meet at the Old Church Loop trail head. Bring your cross.” She giggled. “And your pocket devotional.”

***

Daisy finished her shift and took care of the things she needed to take care of. She showed up at the trail head at eight sharp. Sara, Timmy, and Hunter were waiting. “Hunter said we can’t go alone,” said Timmy. “He has to come.”

“Let’s get this over with,” said Hunter. “I don’t want to babysit my brother and his friends.”

“We are teenagers,” said Timmy. “Not babies.”

“You’re like in middle school still.” He looked at Daisy. “Maybe not you. How old are you?”

She rolled her eyes. “Let’s go.”

They started walking.

“Have you ever kissed a boy?” asked Hunter. Daisy didn’t answer.

There was thunder in the distance. “Uh, guys?” said Sara. “Maybe we should do this another day. I mean, if it’s fixing to come a storm.”

“It’s far away,” said Daisy. “You know how thunder travels in the mountains.”

It was not quite twilight, but the trees made it dark on the path, except during the brief clearings. All four kids turned on their flashlights, but it didn’t seem to help much. It was as if the beams couldn’t quite compete with the oppressive dimness.

They let Hunter lead the way.

He pointed to a hill off to the side. “That right there,” he said, “is where they found Curt Claybough.”

“Don’t talk about that,” said Timmy.

“But it’s not where he died. He died over yonder.” He pointed the opposite direction.

“How do you know?” asked Sara.

Hunter smirked. “I just do,” he said.

“Please don’t talk like that, Hunter,” said Timmy.

“Grow up, Timmy. Curt Claybough was not a good kid. He needed to die.”

Now that, I agree with, thought Daisy.

“Please, Hunter.”

Hunter laughed. The thunder rumbled again. The wind picked up.

“Let’s go home,” said Sara.

“In a minute,” said Daisy.

There was a tiny old wooden shack on a hill about halfway to the cabin. It was falling apart and no bigger than a closet. As they neared it, Daisy moved closer to Hunter, but avoided the shack with her light.

But Hunter didn’t avoid it. He shined the light right on the shack.

And immediately froze.

Daisy yelped and grabbed his arm. Timmy dropped his light and Sara squealed.

There was a single bloody animal leg pinned to the shack, and writing of some sort on the wall.

The writing was illegible. It was also written in blood.

Sara started to whimper. “Let’s go home, let’s go home, let’s go home.”

Daisy walked toward the shack, though. She knelt down and inspected the leg. It looked like rabbit, maybe. The writing was sloppy. “This is rushed and messy,” she said. “Someone is trying to scare people. Maybe a kid even did it. See?” She looked around at them. Hunter and Timmy came closer.

Sara shook her head.

“Huh,” Hunter grunted. “You’re right—that’s a kid’s scribbles.” He started to shine the light around the area. There was a snack-cake wrapper on the ground. “A hungry kid, even.”

“Okay okay but that’s still creepy I don’t care it’s still creepy and I want to go home. Please please let’s go home,” said Sara. “Please.”

“Let’s keep going,” said Hunter. “Just for a minute.”

Sara didn’t want to but wasn’t about to backtrack through the darkening woods by herself. So she followed.

There was no more talk of kissing or of Curt Claybough or of anything else. Sara was crying softly. She would not soon forgive them, Daisy thought. Timmy’s light trembled visibly. Hunter’s was steady.

They reached the cabin. They stood staring at the front door for a minute. Suddenly the wind gusted, the door blew open with a creak, and all their flashlights went out at once. Sara screamed. Thunder cracked loudly.

Daisy got the chills. OK, that thing with the flashlights was weird, she admitted to herself. She suddenly did not feel as in-control of the situation as she would have liked.

With the lights off, it was easy to tell that it wasn’t quite dark. It was still twilight.

The flashlights started to flicker back on. It was decidedly eerie.

What if the dead animals and the candles and the blood—

But it didn’t bear thinking about. Not now. She took a breath. “The window with the candle is around this side,” she said, pointing.

“I am not going in there,” said Sara.

“No,” agreed Daisy. “Let’s go around the side.”

They went around the side.

The candle was burning. One single, solitary taper in the window. They turned their flashlights on it.

They all screamed.

There was a dead rabbit, skinned, inside a pentagram drawn in blood, and its eyes were wide open and staring at them. It’s mouth was open in a silent scream.

Daisy grabbed Hunter’s arm again, hard, and his flashlight fell to the ground and winked out.

Sara kept screaming.

“Run!” shouted Timmy.

Timmy ran. Sara ran.

Daisy stumbled and kicked Hunter’s flashlight. Hunter cursed and started fumbling around for it in the dark.

And it was dark, now. Not full night, but getting there.

Daisy started down the path. “Run, Timmy! Run Sara! We are right behind you!”

Sara was screaming nonstop, though. She probably couldn’t hear.

Daisy stopped and went back to Hunter. He had found his light. He shined it right in her face. “Curiosity too strong for you?” he asked. “Or did you want something else?” He laughed. “Like maybe that kiss.”

“You want to kiss me in front of that?” She turned her light back to the rabbit and shivered. Hunter followed he light. “Good God,” she said. “That is terrifying.” She laughed.

Hunter turned back to her oddly. “You are a strange girl,” he said.

“Let’s go look inside,” said Daisy. “I’m not kissing you out here.”

They went back to the front door. It was open. Hunter shined his light on it but it was still hard to see anything in the dark. “You first?” he asked.

“No way,” said Daisy. Hunter looked at her oddly again, shrugged, and pushed open the door. He took a step in.

There was a loud splintering sound, and a crash, and Hunter fell. He cursed loudly and thoroughly.

Daisy shined her light on him. He was in a deep hole in the ground. The floorboard of the cabin had seemingly been rotten, and there was quite a drop under it. He was also bleeding. It looked like something had impaled his leg. A piece of wood, perhaps.

“My leg,” he said. He was gasping and moaning in pain, but trying not to scream. “I—ahhh—don’t know. If I can walk.” He panted. “Can you even get me out of here?”

Daisy knelt down. “That,” she said, “would defeat the purpose of this whole adventure. Don’t you think?”

“What?”

“You are dangerous, Hunter. And that might be OK,” she said, “except you been messing with my cousin.”

Hunter just stared. He couldn’t quite wrap his brain around the situation yet.

“Cousin?”

“Alisa,” she said.

“Oh. That—I don’t know what she told you, but—“

“Hush, Hunter,” she said. “Now what to do with you?”

“Get me out. Whatever I did, I’m sorry, just—“

“She’s thirteen. Did you know that? And you’re—what—nineteen?”

“Ahh!“ he grabbed his leg and moaned. “Just get me out of here! She was into it, anyway.”

“She wasn’t.”

“OK! OK. I didn’t know, I’m sorry. Tell me how to make it up. Just get me out.”

“That’s the problem, Hunter. I don’t want you to make it up to anyone. I think you are dangerous, and you will hurt someone else.”

“That’s right I’m dangerous! I killed Curt Claybough!”

Daisy laughed. “No you didn’t,” she said. “You’re a predator of little girls, not a killer.”

“I am. I’ll kill you. I killed Curt Claybough!.”

“You didn’t kill Curt Claybough,” said Daisy.

The thunder struck.

"You don't know that. I did."

"I do know. You didn't," said Daisy.

"How do you know?"

"Because," said Daisy, "I did."

He stared, open mouthed.

“I killed Curt Claybough,” she said, “because he was a problem for my family. He threatened my father, and he was dangerous enough to carry it through. He had to go.”

“You….what?” Hunter couldn’t get his bearings. “What about the candle? The rabbit?”

“I needed to lure you out here.” She paused. “Also, I needed the woods to be creepy. The kind of place where someone might die unexplained.”

Hunter looked frightened now. Truly frightened.

“Timmy and Sara—“

She shrugged. “They’ll have some nightmares, I expect. And then they’ll believe what they want to believe.” She frowned. “Which, by the way, won’t be that their fourteen-year-old friend Daisy is a murderer.”

“OK, look—“

“Enough talk,” said Daisy. “It’s getting dark.” She laughed again. The lightning flashed and the thunder rolled.

“And I have a lot of cleaning up to do.”