The Forsaken

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

Brendan Mikos stumbled toward the light dancing behind ice frosted glass like it was a lighthouse beacon guiding him to safety. The yellow glow beckoned him with silent promises of warmth and comfort. Dry clothes. Food. Life.

The crusted snow, sparkling in the moonlight like tiny deadly diamonds, crunched beneath his weight. He moved carefully, his sneakers sliding on the slippery surface. Violent shudders racked his body, making him clench his jaws to keep his teeth from breaking against each other. The sudden drop in temperature made him sniffle and sneeze. He wiped his dripping nose with his bare forearm. His fingers and toes throbbed from the cold. Dressed in a white T shirt and blue shorts, he wasn’t prepared for this weather. Nor should he have been. It was July just a few minutes ago. In Wyoming, not Antarctica.

A fierce, frigid wind assaulted his exposed skin and knocked him off balance. He twisted sideways as he fell, smashing his face and chest into a pine tree. Sharp stabbing pain shot up Brendon’s neck and filled his head until he could barely stand. His head throbbing so hard his eyes hurt, he clung to the prickly branches for support, fearing the impact of a fall would shattered his nearly frozen body.

He looked at the cabin in the distance with longing. It stood only a hundred yards away, but it might as well have been across the country. His stiff legs hurt so badly he didn’t know how he could take another step. But he had to. If he didn’t get somewhere warm and out of these icy clothes in the next few minutes, he was going to freeze to death. He already wanted to curl up in the snow and go to sleep. An act that would surely not end well.

Brendan tried to call out to whomever was in the cabin, but his jaw twitched involuntarily, and he bit his cracked and bleeding bottom lip. He made a silent prayer, to anyone listening, that his body would go numb and the pain would end. But not his life. The need for warmth and safety overpowered him and he pushed forward despite the agony.

What in the hell was happening to him? His racing mind searched for answers he could understand; a rational explanation. But he had nothing.

He had no idea how long he had been wandering this vast and dense woodland. What began as a happy, relaxing camping trip in Yellowstone National Park, with his girlfriend and two best friends became a waking nightmare in less than an hour. After helping pitch tents and digging a cooking pit; he left the group to take a leak in privacy.

Brendan knew Yellowstone well; he and his companions came here every summer. So it was a great surprise when he somehow got turned around heading back to camp, and wound up in a completely different forest. He navigated a well-used trail, which split in two directions. He followed the fork highlighted by golden, shimmering shafts of light; certain it would take him back to his friends. But it just led him deeper and deeper into the forest.

Well, a forest. He left his companions basking in the heat of the sun on this breezy summer day. He intended to only be gone a few minutes, and wound up in the Twilight Zone, not knowing how long he’d been away.

A frozen world of glistening snow adorned the pine trees surrounding him. How did it go from 85 degrees to below zero in a matter of minutes? He still had no explanation.

There was something terribly wrong here. Besides the weather. These pine trees seemed more alive... more... menacing, than any other tree he’d ever seen.

Their prickly limbs reached out and snagged his thin clothing. Scratched his exposed skin. Twice, out of the corner of his eye, he saw them move, not just the limbs, but entire trees! He swore they grouped together to obstruct his escape.

Brendan fumbled in his pocket for his phone. He could barely grab it with his stiff fingers. When he pulled it out of his pocket, it was for nothing. Even though it was fully charged, the screen was blank. He couldn’t return the cell to its resting place, so he dropped it. The stupid thing wasn’t doing him any good, anyway.

He jerked his head to the left as his peripheral vision once again saw trees moving. This time he looked them dead on, and they were definitely in motion. The trail leading back to where he had come from was completely blocked.

Was he losing his mind? What was happening to him seemed impossible, but so did enjoying a hot July day, with blue skies and no clouds in sight, to rudely being plunged into the middle of a dismal winter night with piles of snow up to his knees.

How did he get here? All he did was walk down the wrong trail.

By now, his friends should have realized he hadn’t come back. Were they even looking for him? He paused and listened. This Winter Horrorland was strangely devoid of sound. Only the bitter wind spoke to him. Mocked him. Told him he was going to die in the worst possible way.

His shirt and jeans were soaked through and stiff. Instead of the sneakers he wore, his feet felt like they were encased in blocks of ice.

What’s going on? Am I dead? Has Hell actually frozen over?

Brendan inched closer to the ramshackle building, his numbing body fighting him with every step. He kept his eyes focused on the light of the candle. It had to be lit by someone. Hopefully, they were still there and would take pity on him.

Finally, after what seemed an eternity, he reached the door. He knocked with a frozen fist. To his surprise, a deep, gruff voice said, “Come in, Traveler, come in.”

Brendan cautiously cracked the door open about an inch, expecting its hinges to shriek. When they didn’t, he let out a slow breath, unaware he had been holding it. He scoffed at himself. What was he afraid of? It’s not like he was sneaking in; he had been invited.

He pushed the door open. And vomited in his mouth. The sickly stench of rancid meat assailed him. Brendan became a statue in the doorway, refusing to move, his mind filled with unspeakable horrors. He grimaced as he swallowed the burning bile and tried not to heave all over the floor.

The single candle in the window appeared to be the only light source in the cabin. It’s glow was limited to its immediate surrounding. He peered into the enclosed blackness. Gasping, he tried to calm his shaky breathing and his churning stomach. He backed away, deciding that freezing to death was better than whatever awaited him inside the cabin.

When a fire exploded in the hearth, Brendan jumped like someone had shot at him. It took a minute to start breathing again. He examined himself, stiffly patting down his body. Relieved he had no new injuries; he turned his attention to the single room cabin. While most of the structure inexplicably remained in darkness, Brendan gave in to the urge to warm himself in front of the inviting blaze. His inner voice of reason told him to leave, take his chances outside. But the temptation to stand by the fire and enjoy its life saving heat, won that argument without hesitation.

Brendan hurried to the fireplace, holding his hands in front of him. He sensed something lurking in the darkness, but at the moment he didn’t care. Euphoric before the heat, he barely noticed the sound of the door swinging shut. And locking.

Time passed quickly as he stood in the glow of the flames. Now that he felt human again, he glanced around the room.

“Thank you for your hospitality. I’m Brendan. And I’d be dead if it weren’t for you,” he said to the shadows.

His host remained silent, but a movement in the room’s corner caught Brendon’s eye. There stood a dark, motionless figure, nearly hidden in the shadows. Brendan had to squint and concentrate to see anything at all.

The sudden sight of gleaming white eyes, high in the air, made him jump.

He retched on the floor as the stench of decay caught him again. He vomited so hard he thought he would lose his internal organs.

Brendan desperately wanted to leave, but couldn’t move. Something, some force, held him down. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he saw bodies on the floor surrounding his host. He couldn’t tell how many, but one was too much for him. And there was definitely more than one. His breath came in rapid, shallow gasps, and his eyes grew wide. In a matter of moments, he found himself hyperventilating.

What had he gotten into? He should have just stayed home and not gone camping in the first place. 20/20 hindsight and all that.

His heart sunk when he realized this desolate cabin would be his tomb.

Struggling to sit, Brendan peered into the corner until he could clearly make out his host.

He wished he hadn’t.

The thing was tall, seven or eight feet, and emaciated. It’s skin looked charred, like it had been caught on the wrong side of a barbecue. It’s black hide stretched tightly over a skeletal frame. It was humanoid, but that’s where it’s resemblance to a real human ended. It was naked but had no visible genitalia.

It regarded Brendan with luminous eyes and an insatiable hunger. Its intelligence was cold, ruthless, and not of this world. This was a thing born of nightmares and should not exist, yet here it was. The monstrous creature filled him with revulsion and an urgent need to run, despite not being able to move. He struggled against his unseen bonds and screamed. No! He was not going to die like this! He had never done anything to deserve this kind of death. He was a good person, and clearly he’d lost his mind. This could not be happening.

A thought suddenly pierced his traumatized brain, and he knew what stood before him: Ghoul. But didn’t they live in cemeteries?

The ghoul answered Brendon’s unspoken question; “I like my meat rare.”

Brendan wished he weren’t today’s main course. Shivers vibrated down his spine, and it had nothing to do with the temperature.

He remembered the fork in the trail. It looked ethereal as it flickered between the trees. Had he walked into another dimension? Was such a thing possible?

“All paths lead to me”

His surge of adrenaline waning, Brendan sighed. A deep heaviness overcame his mind and body. His heart ached. He would never see Amanda again. Tears welled in his eyes and his stomach twisted in knots. He should have married Amanda years ago. He was only thirty-two; he thought he had time. If he hadn’t waited so long, they might even have a couple of kids.

Now he’ll never get the chance to be anyone’s husband or father.

Ghoul moved forward, pointing a long, taloned finger at his victim’s stomach. Brendan thrashed and tried to pull himself away, to no avail.

The flesh tore with a wet, sucking sound when Ghoul cut Brendan from sternum to pelvis. He watched in horror as Ghoul feasted on his small intestine while he was still alive.

Ghoul looked rapturous as he ate, blood dripping from his putrid, slobbering mouth.

As his blood left his body, Brendan felt his life force ebbing. His vision clouded over. He didn’t think anything could surprise him now, but he was wrong.

To Brendan’s shock, Ghoul transformed into Brendan’s identical twin. He had forgotten that ghouls were shape shifters.

“Brendan!”

“Brendan!”

Brendan’s eyes grew wide when he realized Amanda and Rob were outside in the forest. Brendan shook his head with the last of his energy, and whispered, “Oh God no.”

Ghoul gave him a cold, crimson smile as Brendan slipped off into oblivion.

The last thing Brendan heard was, “Look, Rob! There’s a lit candle in the window!”