Little Cabin in the Woods

The woods were usually quiet, save for the typical rustles of critters in the brush. And in the quiet of the trees, a cabin could just be made out, nestled within a grove of towering pines. This cabin in the woods had been abandoned for years, but one night, a candle burned in the window. The candle was the brightest thing amongst the blackening trees. Autumn was falling on the landscape, leaving the trees stripped bare and the stench of rotting leaves warming the air. But with the stench of rot came the early crest of night, so the candle burned, seemingly alone in the encroaching darkness.

But the candle wasn't alone. There was another shine out in the woods, flickering and constantly moving but still there. It was the flashes of the sinking sun reflecting off the barrel of a gun, blinding him as he continued to run. He couldn't be quiet, even if he tried. Each step tossed up cracked leaves, snapped sticks, and shook each bush he ran through. Even worse, his all white fur was a stark contrast against the mottled brown and green trees in a way that made hiding a distant possibility. But that white fur was quickly turning red, blood already trailed down his snow white body where the bullet in his shoulder was lodged; a dull throbbing sensation buried by the heaviness of his breathing and thundering stomps of the hunter behind him.

Every corner he turned, every peek he took behind his back, was always met with the glimmer of the sun off the rifle's barrel. He was running out of places to go, of energy to keep running. His arms were numb, no longer feeling the air blow across them; his legs burning and heavy as stone, the continuous flow of blood matting his fur as he continued to run.

Finally he saw the cabin, the silhouette of a little man in the window his only hope. The man's gaze followed the rabbit as he ran out of the brush and onto the porch. The rabbit disappeared from view and the man's gaze shifted to the door where quick knocking began. The man moved away from the window, missing the appearance of the hunter amongst the tree line and how he stopped to watch. Opening the door to the bloodied rabbit the man in the cabin listened to his tale.

"HELP ME, HELP ME, HELP ME," he said. "Before the hunter shoots me dead."

"Little rabbit come inside, safely to abide." The man gestured to the rabbit, turning to the side but after waiting a moment he turned back to see the rabbit had disappeared and a moaning tune began to wind through trees.

Over and over the woods sang out the song, the rabbit appearing again and again but becoming quieter and quieter each time; until finally the rabbit only appeared in silence. Gesturing wildly, terrified of the hunter behind. And as the little man gestured once again to the rabbit to abide inside he looked down, only to see a smear of blood and a rabbit's foot.

The flickering of the hunter's gun dispersed into the light of firefly flashes, the cabin into the bark of the trees, and the man into the dew of the grass. All that remained was the burning of the candle, and the eerie song carried on the wind.

"Little cabin in the woods/little man by the window stood,

Saw a rabbit hopping by/knocking on his door.

'Help me, help me, help me,' he said/before the hunter shoots me dead,

Little rabbit come inside/safely to abide."