The Cabin in the Woods

The cabin in the woods had been abandoned for years, but one night, a candle burned in the window. The wind howled and played with the flame as it almost flickered. Someone discovered our secret.

Knowing that we may not be alone, we instinctively hid behind a giant redwood, which had a trunk wide enough to provide a natural blind. I peeked around the tree. Even though the candle provided a spotlight, I could not see in the darkness. If there were shadows, they blended into the cavity behind cabin walls.

It was impossible to remain quiet because the carpet of pine needles on the forest floor crackled as we adjusted our positions. I was surprised when Russ finally spoke, and it was his outside voice instead of a whisper: “It is probably some hiker who discovered it just like we did and is looking for shelter. There is a storm coming.”

“But it’s creepy,” I countered. “You think we should walk in and surprise them? What if they have a rifle?”

“We can’t turn back, Rachel. It’s already sprinkling, and we won’t make it back to the Jeep in this darkness without getting lost,” he urged me forward from his hiding place.

We had stayed at the cabin two times. We were hiking deep in the Humboldt National Park when we came upon the deserted cabin. The door lock was flimsy, and we pushed our way inside. There was old, uncovered furniture covered in thick cobwebs that formed vines between the pieces. The cobbled fireplace seemed to work. Russ made sure the flue was open, and we went out to collect wood. We built a fire and then made love on the rickety, dusty bed.

The second time we visited, we cleaned up the place with a dust rag, broom, and cleaner and made another fire.

This was our third visit. We were trespassers, but I still felt violated when another intruder seemed to take advantage of our discovery.

But maybe it was the actual owner of the cabin? (It was abandoned for years said the townfolk).

Russ pushed me forward toward the cabin. I timidly pressed against his back in trepidation.

“We’ll knock on the door loudly. I’m sure everything will be fine,” he assured me.

We stood at the door. Russ pounded on the door. “Hello?! Anybody there? We are campers, and we mean you no harm.” I checked my phone’s cell phone bars for the strength of my signal. I saw “No Service.”

Russ pushed the door open, and he stepped over the threshold. “Hello? We are friendly campers! We don’t mean anyone harm.” I was inches behind him, using him as a shield.

I looked at the candle in the window just as the wind extinguished the flame. The room was black – I couldn’t see the outline of my hand. Russ turned on his phone’s flashlight. “I think I saw a kerosene lamp the last time we were here.”

I heard him stumble across the room, the flick of his lighter as a small flame appeared, and then there was light! The lamp emitted a hazy yellow halo. It was enough light to see where we were going and more importantly, see if anyone was there.

The room appeared to be empty. “Whoever was here left. I bet they forgot about the candle.” Unlikely, I thought to myself. Candles have a strong association with the dead, and some people believe they frighten away demons.

“Maybe we should look for a basement to see if that person is hiding down there?” I said.

Russ snorted, “Naw. I think we’re alone. Let’s make a fire.”

The thick forest obscured the horizon, and we barely noticed that it was early in the night.

“We’ll sleep and then hike out in the morning,” Russ said.

Russ handed me a cup of his special tea from his thermos. I took it because it was warm and comforting.

Russ built a fire with wood we stacked, collected, and stacked from our previous visit. We had brought leftovers and unpacked those from the rucksacks we brought.

I was very sleepy. My eyelids felt heavy – like weighted curtains. I lay down on the rickety bed, and it groaned against my weight. The noise wasn’t new, but my senses seemed on full throttle. I was still hungry, and my stomach ached and grumbled.

Russ joined me and spooned me as we both fell into a fitful sleep. I was wary of the intruder. Who was he? Or her? Why was he here? Where did he go? (Why did he leave). WAS HE COMING BACK?

I managed to worry myself to sleep, but when I sensed another presence, I opened my eyes and lay still. He was back.

Then I heard wood scraping together and heavy breathing. I listened to hard footsteps stomping towards the bed. I saw nothing but outlines in the black of the night. The fire was out, and so was the little lamp.

As I shot up in bed, I felt a stabbing pain in my lower abdomen. My attacker jumped back. The moon emerged from behind a moving cloud and a stream of light hit the floor. I saw that my beloved attacker wore a mask that made him look like a praying mantis.

I felt for Russ and felt a sticky substance on his chest. Blood. My fingers felt their way across his chest, and I found a stick protruding from his chest. He was dead.

I was sad, angry, and shocked. My attacker tried lunging at me. I’m usually very docile, but all the rage I had fueled me like a rocket, and I sprung toward my attacker and ripped the mask from his face. He screamed and stepped back.

The mask was a pair of infrared night goggles. I chuckled. People assume that we can see in the dark but in reality, we have poor eyesight. So, I put on the goggles, and I could see my nemesis. He looked paralyzed and scared. “Not so brave now that I’m awake, are we?” I said.

He recoiled, and I smelled urine and saw a stream trickle out of his pants. He pulled out a large wooden cross and yelled, “Back beast! I will cast you out with the Devil.”

Within seconds I pulled the cross out of his hands. “I’m not a believer,” and then I put my hands around his throat and crushed the life out of his poor soul. But not before I took a bite and dined on his blood after all.