The Polaroid

The cabin in the woods had been abandoned for years, but one night, a candle burned in the window. It burned warmly and patiently, waiting. It silently beckoned passersby into the cabin, a single, comforting light in the darkness.

Stories about the cabin went back about as far as any of the locals could remember. It was the last cabin standing of a summer camp long past gone, closed after the drowning of a young camp counselor. Rumors circulated since its closing. Apparently, it was the site of the torture and murder of a kidnapped girl. Years later, a young couple stumbled upon the mauled body of a lost hiker who had managed to crawl away from something that had liberated his insides through a gaping wound in his abdomen. Crawled away and curled up in the false safety of the cabin. But these were stories, and stories had a way of becoming something twisted with lies and half-truths, meant to scare, warn, and entertain. And stories like these don’t happen to good people. Good people like Norah.

Norah had heard about the cabin from a young age. It was a local legend, the hottest hangout to dare your friends to go to. It was spooky and fun, a Halloween attraction all year round. Today it was the perfect backdrop to test her new-vintage polaroid, picked up on the cheap from a local thrift store on a whim. She shot various leaves and a few flowers, a couple of spiders dangling precariously close to her face, a squirrel, and even a blank-eyed deer that disappeared in a flash of white at the sound of the shutter. The camera spat out the pictures painfully slow, but still produced a clear image. It was a good start to a good day. Norah continued through the woods, wandering and snapping aimlessly, waiting for the sun to dip a little further before finally seeking out the cabin. Birds sang in the trees above her and insects buzzed, a pleasant and harmonious melody. Ribbons of bright light shone off the lake as the waves gently lapped at the shore. Norah took a small, overgrown path away from the lake, excited for the dramatic pictures the abandoned cabin at dusk would surely produce.

The path wound slowly deeper into the woods and away from the gentle and comforting sounds of the lake. Although the sun was still up, the woods here seemed darker, shadowier. Branches moaned overhead, bark squeaking as they rubbed together heavily in the wind. Twigs snapped and cracked in the underbrush behind Norah as she pushed her way through a thick patch of brambles. The sun hovered low in the sky when she finally saw the mossy roof of the cabin. A cool breeze rustled the leaves. How long had it been since she’d heard a bird sing or an insect buzz? She tried to shake off the growing uneasiness, sure that she had heard them but wasn’t paying attention. Now, as the cabin came into sight, it was silent except for the occasional rustle of leaves or snap of a twig.

The cabin stood, mossy but still in good shape. She had passed remnants of the other cabins, most just piles of logs, shingles, and nails, ready to be reclaimed by the woods. This one stood, perfectly intact. It was made of heavy logs with a window on each side and a shingled roof. A stray shingle lay strewn here and there. Norah circled the cabin, looking and snapping when, through the lens, the dull light of a single candle flickering in the window caught her attention. Weird. Kids probably, trying to hold some sort of seance, see who would scare first. She cupped her hands to her face and peered through the window, but it was too dirty to see.

“Hello?” she called, expecting a group of kids to burst through the door hollering and laughing. But there was no answer. The door creaked on its hinges and swayed back and forth in the cool breeze.

She stepped into the cabin, old floorboards groaning uncomfortably under her. It was dark in the woods, but here it was unusually dark. The candle flickered, casting a soft orange light through the cabin just enough so that Norah could make out some shapes here and there. A couple of wire-frame beds stood, silent and ready, still made up for the next sleeper. Tattered blankets and a canvas duffle sat in the corner. Candles, partly melted but cooled formed a rough circle on the floor in the center of the cabin. They were surrounded by empty bottles, old beer cans, and other pieces of garbage and debris. Norah stepped around them to examine the pictures on the wall. Smiling counselors and campers in grey stared back. She turned back to face the door and brought her camera up to her eye. As it came into focus, a small, pale face peeked at her from outside the doorframe. It was a little girl with dark eyes and dirty, matted blonde hair. She brought the camera down.

“Hello?”

But there was no one there. She put the camera back up to her eye and, as it focused, there was the same girl staring in at her. Norah let the camera fall to her neck as she rushed to the door and looked out. She made a lap around the cabin, but there was no girl. She went back in to where she had been standing and put the camera back to her eye. Nothing this time. A small rustle at the window to her right caught her attention. Still with the camera at her eye she turned and caught a flash of pale skin and dirty blond hair in the corner of the window. Slowly she inched the camera down from her eye. Nothing.

“That’s more than enough shots for today” Norah whispered to herself, heart fluttering in her chest. She moved quickly towards the door, using the flickering candlelight to avoid stepping on the debris on the floor. Norah found the handle to the door and turned it, but it just rotated in its socket. She pulled and pushed and shoved, but the door didn’t move. She whipped around, camera bouncing at her neck, and rushed to the window with the candle. There was a pounding in her ears. She clawed at the lift but it didn’t budge, didn’t even rattle. She ran her clammy fingers over the metallic reflection in the sill. Nails. She ran to the next window, but it was the same. They were all nailed shut. Norah was trapped.

“Just breath, just breath” Norah whispered to herself, turning around and around. It was completely dark outside now and she could barely make out the shapes in the cabin. The candle still flickered.

“I’ve been in here for at least twenty minutes and the candle doesn’t look like it’s melted at all since then” she thought, cool beads of sweat forming on her forehead. Her heart rate quickened as her mind raced, thinking back to all of the rumors she had heard about this place. She had to get out. But a small, quiet noise in the dark stole her attention. A drip. Somewhere, a drip. Of what? It wasn’t raining? There, again, another drip. She caught the reflection of the candlelight on the drip as it fell from the ceiling. If there was a drip, maybe there was a hole, and a hole meant maybe a way out. But she couldn’t see where the drip was coming from. She reached for the candle but stopped. Her stomach turned and her hand quivered. Something, somewhere told her not to take it. She left it and put the camera up, the flash would at least be bright enough to show her where the drip was coming from. She snapped and, in the flash, noticed a small, dark stain on the ceiling. There was another drop already forming, but no hole. The camera spat the picture out and she let it fall to the floor. She snapped again towards the ceiling. In the instant of bright light, a young man floated there in mid-air, belly up, his arms and legs splayed as though floating in water. His head hung back and water poured from his gurgling mouth. Norah screamed and let the camera fall as she fell backward, tripping over the bed frame. She twisted and fell hard on her hands. The camera once again spat out its picture. She brought the camera up fast and snapped again, but this time the light illuminated nothing but the stain on the ceiling. She pulled her knees to her and shook. He looked familiar. But why? She tried to remember what she saw. Brown hair, white shirt, red shorts, dripping wet. Something else. The light had bounced off something around his neck. She stood and found her way through the cabin to the wall with the pictures. In the dim light of the candle, she could make out rows of campers and counselors. She scanned until her eyes fell on him, the same guy, only this time he was smiling. He was dressed in a white shirt and red shorts, a whistle around his neck.

“Counselors of ‘58” she choked out, tearing up. She leaned her head on the wall.

“This can’t be happening”, she whispered, hot tears falling from her eyes. She felt along the wall until she came to the door. The handle still turned but did not open. She turned back, looking for something to break one of the windows. She picked up a rock and hurled it, but it bounced back. She threw it again and again but nothing happened. No chips, no cracks. She pounded on it until the window rattled in its frame, but still, nothing. She leaned against the wall and slid to the floor, kicking up dust that shimmered in the candlelight. The camera went off, illuminating the other side of the cabin. She let the picture fall to the floor before picking it up and waving it gently. There was nothing there. There had never been anything there, or here, in the cabin with her.

“It’s just my imagination” Norah sobbed to herself, head in her hands. The camera went off again, then again. It kept going off, illuminating the dark over and over again. Norah was afraid to look up, to see what the camera had revealed in the dark. In the flashing, she saw them, horrible things, standing there staring at her. The little girl with dark eyes, the drowned counselor, still dripping. They disappeared when the flash died. The camera went off again. This time, an older man joined them. A hiker with three claw marks over his face and, worse yet, a gaping wound in his abdomen that revealed his insides, dark and red. All three faded again with the light. The camera flashed again, this time faster, and Norah stared in horror as the three figures appeared closer to her this time. The camera went off continuously, again and again, each time the three figures were closer and closer. Norah’s head pounded, and the sound of a waterfall roared in her ears. She squeezed her eyes shut and screamed as the figures reached towards her, the camera strobing rapidly. The cabin seemed to shake as Norah felt their cold hands on her, pulling her towards the darkness. She kicked and clawed, digging her nails into the wood, leaving scratch marks as they pulled. The camera kept flashing, spitting out image after image, and Norah screamed and screamed, the waterfall in her ears grew louder and louder. All at once the camera stopped flashing, the figures disappeared into the darkness, and Norah was cold and still. The cabin was pitch black and the candle had gone out, a thin wisp of smoke lingered in the air. The camera went off once more, illuminating the now empty room. It spat out its last picture onto the floor. In it, Norah stood, smiling, with her polaroid.