The Tall Man

The cabin in the woods had been abandoned for years, but one night, a candle burned in the window. It dimly lit the cabin, the soft glow-giving shape and form to its content. It was not a large cabin, and all the furniture sprawled inside made it feel even smaller. Lyra carefully walked around the cabin, holding the candle to get a closer look at her uncle’s possessions. She let out a quiet chuckle when she saw that he had kept the rock she gifted to him as a child. It was a rock in a shape resembling a four-leaf clover. Se even rolled the rock around in the grass, to give it a green tint. Now, the color had faded, and a large crack ran across it. She jokingly made him promise to never throw it away or all the misfortune in the world will fall onto him. He laughed in response and made a pinky promise that he would keep it with him forever.

Lyra’s uncle, James, was an outsider. He would always stick to himself during family gatherings, talking as least as he could. He often disappeared without anyone knowing and would be found nose-deep in a book. His siblings always picked on him for doing so, in an attempt that he would talk to them instead. Lyra loved to make a game out of finding his uncle whenever he disappeared. Her grandparent’s house had many rooms, so she trotted around, swinging open door after door. She cringed at how much of an annoying brat she used to be, but James never got mad at her for being so. He simply smiled and handed her an easier book from a bookshelf or his backpack.

Unsurprisingly, his cabin was chock full of the books he loved so much. Most were stored away in the two bookshelves he had, but many more were riddled throughout the cabin. From it, she recognized books she saw him reading and books he gave her to read. She took a book out of a bookshelf, now covered in dust, but it was clear before that it was meticulously taken care of. In the midst of the books, she found a particular item. It was a book with a spine much thinner than the other ones. Once she rubbed off the dust on it, she realized that it was James’ journal.

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January 14th, 2006

Today is my first night at the cabin. It’s a nice cabin, the only flaw is that it’s a bit small. But I find that charming in a way. Still, it took every bit of penny I had to afford it. Now I am away from it all. There are things I will miss, like a good burger and electricity, but I just couldn’t handle it anymore. All the people, what they thought of me, what I thought of them, all the thoughts, it was maddening. In this cabin, I can finally breathe, and my head doesn’t feel like it's ringing. My father would yell and call me a coward for this decision, but people like him can’t understand. I tried as hard as I could, but I just couldn’t do it.

No matter, he can’t bother me here.

The forests are calming and still like a painting, but upon focusing on it, you realize how full of life it is. It’s remarkable how the same place can change so much in shade and feeling by a simple virtue like time of day. It’s amazing how pitch black the nights are in the forest. It was scary at first, but as I kept staring into it, I found it comforting. The darkness meant there was no one out there.

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James had gone missing years ago. One day, no one was able to contact him, not that many people tried to. He had stopped coming to family gatherings a couple of years before that, so it would only be his mother that would occasionally call to check on him. His disappearance was abrupt and the family was worried that he had gotten into an accident somewhere. Once they saw his apartment was cleaned of his favorite books and furniture, however, they concluded he had gone off the grid, so to speak, as some outcasts were known to do. But no one knew for sure until the news of his death.

Lyra tried to read his journal under the dim candlelight, but it proved difficult coupled with his messy handwriting. She closed the journal and decided to read it the next morning.

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January 20th, 2006

I tried hunting today. I fired a rifle at a range before, but hitting a living thing is a whole another task. At the end of the day, all I came back with were empty cartridges. So, it was another night of canned food, but they tasted good enough.

I think I saw another human today, which is a rarity. It was getting pretty dark, but in the forests, I caught a glimpse of a tall figure moving through the trees. It startled me because almost no one comes to this part of this forest. So I gathered my things and headed inside. Should I have reached out to him? Maybe he was lost. But I’m sure if he was he would have knocked on my door sooner or later. Well, I’m glad I didn’t have to deal with it.

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Lyra peered out through the window into the forest, dark figures in the shape of a tree waved softly in a cadence with the night wind. Lyra stared, hypnotized by it. It made her stop thinking about things, and just enjoy the tranquility. Once she snapped out of it, Lyra understood why her uncle moved out here.

James was declared dead when a pair of hikers discovered his cabin. They knocked on the door to see if anyone was inside. When nobody answered, they peered inside to find a blood stain on the carpet floor. After a lengthy investigation, the police ID’d the blood, but never found his body and assumed that a wild animal, like a bear, attacked him inside his home, killing him. As the bloodstains were very old, it was considered likely that other animals cleaned up his remaining body. Lyra’s father always called the police’s investigation a pile of rubbish. He said it was a human who killed him, probably a lunatic living out in the forest like him, no animal can just make an entire human body disappear like that. He eventually stopped talking about it. He knew nothing would come out of it, whatever the cause, James was gone.

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January 23rd, 2006

I went out for a long walk today. It seemed a bit of a waste to live in this beautiful forest, and stay cooped up in my cabin, just reading. There were a lot fewer animals than I was expecting. When I was hunting a couple of days ago, I saw a couple of deers roaming around. I suppose I was making a lot of noise walking around, and animals are really good at picking up these noises. For some reason, when I was walking I couldn’t shake the eerie feeling that I was being watched. I kept turning around but there was nothing there. Not that I expected something to be there.

Eventually, the eerie feeling turned to a creeping premonition. Even though I knew what I was feeling was baseless, I couldn’t fully convince myself that. I returned quickly to the cabin. It was probably me overthinking things again, blowing things out of proportion. That’s the whole reason I’m here. I know that it’s probably nothing, but it feels worse the more I try to tell myself that. I’m going to try to take my mind off it, and do some reading tomorrow. That always calms me down.

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Lyra yawned, it was getting late, and she had taken a long hike to get to the cabin. Her entire body ached since she underestimated how taxing a couple of miles of walking in the forest would be. She rolled out a sleeping back. There was a bed inside the cabin, but it was aged and dusty. She felt uncomfortable trying to sleep in such an old bed.

Her parents were against the idea of her visiting the cabin. The cabin had been cleaned up after James’ death, in hopes of selling it. But no buyer emerged for years, so the family gave up on trying to sell it too. Lyra only recently found out no one had bought the cabin, and once she did, she suggested they take a family trip, pay respects and not waste a perfectly good cabin. Her father snapped, yelling at her to stop talking about the cabin and James.

So, she visited the cabin in secret. At first, her idea was only that, an idea. Most likely she wouldn’t have really visited the cabin, since she wasn’t too fond of camping. But after the fight, she visited it out of spite. Once she calmed down on the way to the cabin, she was regretful, for visiting her uncle’s final resting space, out of anger. But she pulled through, wanting to achieve her original goal of paying respect.

Lyra blew out the candle and stared at the forests one last time. The trees were still waving around gently but in the midst of it, Lyra noticed there was one tree that wasn’t moving like the others.

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January 25th, 2006

I am being watched. I saw the man again today from my windows. He was closer than he was last time. I tried to look at him while hiding behind my window, so he wouldn't notice me. I still couldn't fully make out his appearance. But he is frighteningly tall, much taller than anyone I ever met. His arms also almost touch the floor, is he even human? What does it want from me? For the first time since I moved here, I locked all my doors and windows. I'm too afraid to go outside, am I going mad, is this an another episode I'm having? I just wish it will pass.

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Lyra laid down on her sleeping bag, but she stayed awake. She thought about what really killed her uncle, was it a wild animal like the police said, or some lunatic like her father theorized? Her thoughts sent a shiver down her spine, wondering if the same thing could happen to her. She crawled inside the sleeping bag. Alone with her thoughts, the cabin felt suffocating. She wondered if she should relight the candle again, but she calmed herself down, and thought of happier things, like reading with her uncle. Lyra smiled. She relaxed and closed her eye.

Then she heard tapping from her window.

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January 28th, 2006

I haven't gone outside since I saw it. I'm too afraid to look outside. I covered all my windows, so it wouldn't be able to look in either. Have I gone crazy, am I just seeing things? But at night I hear tappings on my windows, not from the wind or rain, but rhythmic, like an invite to come out and play. What does it want from me? I didn't hear any tappings during the day, I thought about running away. But what about that time I felt watched when I was hiking during the day? Does it want me to think that I’m safe during the day? I'm running out of food I stored in the cabin, the rest are in the shack, but I do not dare to make a trip to it.

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Her heart sank once hearing it. She could hear her heartbeat grow faster and faster, so much that it resonated in her head, drowning out the sound of the tapping. She took a deep breath. ‘It’s just a tree branch stuck to the window, tapping with the wind’, she told herself.

At first she ignored the tapping, but it went on and on, like a ticking clock. She tried covering her ears with the sleeping bag, but the tapping didn't grow any quieter. It went on, serving as a constant reminder for Lyra to think about the window. Eventually, her initial fear turned into annoyance, she got up to take care of whatever the cause was. She approached the window and peered outside. There wasn't anything stuck like she expected, she wondered what was causing it, but then realized the tapping had stopped. Had the branch gotten unstuck the moment she got up? Lyra sighed and turned around, and crawled under her sleeping bag, once more.

Then she heard tapping from the window.

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February 1st? 2006

It has been days since I ate anything. I feel faint, the hunger, it gets so bad, that I almost ran outside. Its a torture starving knowing there is food so close to me. I looked outside the window today, it is still there. Now it's even closer. It's clear whatever that thing is, it's not human. My vision is failing me, or maybe my mind is forcing me to not stare at it. Its figure is still cloudy unlike its surrounding, but its silhouette is clear. Its proportions are all wrong to be human, and it doesn't look like any animals I have seen or heard of. I etched a picture of what it looks like, but I can't fully capture what it really looks like in reality, not that I want to.

In the midst of the agony caused by the hunger and fear, I screamed at it. I told it to fuck off, that I will shoot him if it doesn't leave. It twitched a bit, then its shadowy face ripped open like rotting meat. Then it let out a screeching sound, more foul than anything I have heard. It kept going until it limped back into the forest. As the voice faded, it began to sound like mine.

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Lyra froze. There was nothing near the window that could make the tapping sound when she checked it. Was it an animal tapping her window, but why? Was it trying to lure Lyra to it? Then why stop when she got near it? All the possibilities rushed through her head. Lyra started breathing audibly, and a cold sweat rolled down her cheek. The tapping grew louder and more frequent, she turned away from it, covering herself with the sleeping bag. She wanted to look out her window, but she feared that if she did, whatever was making the sound would stare back. She closed her eyes, trying to ignore the sound. The tapping turned angrier, and into scratches that screeched into Lyra's mind. After what felt like an eternity, the scratching stopped.

The sun had risen.

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February 2nd, 2006

I have no strength left. I do not know what drives me to write these entries. I do not know. I stared at it today, what was I afraid of? I don't remember. I stared at it through the window. It walked to me. I couldn't see its eyes, but I kept staring. It started talking, I did not talk back. Its eyes opened, but it couldn't close them. The eyes shifted, but it was always focused on me. It walked away from the window. I know where it went. It's standing behind the door to the cabin. Waiting for me to open the door.

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Lyra woke up, had she fainted? Or was it all just a bad dream? She carefully crawled to the window to inspect it without showing herself. The window was fine, it was as dusty as it was before. There were no scratch marks, no fingerprints, nothing. Lyra let out a sigh of relief, it was just a nightmare.

Lyra gathered her things and her uncle's journal. She looked back at the cabin. She put her hand on the doorknob, but before turning it, she stopped. Her heart started beating faster, it felt like every piece of sound was fading from her ears. Her heartbeats echoed inside her head, drowning out everything else. Lyra lowered herself, and as carefully and quietly she could, leaned her ear against the door. At first, she only heard her own breathing and heartbeat, but as she kept listening she realized there was another set of breathing and heartbeat besides hers. Her heart beat faster and faster, so much that it felt like her chest would explode. The heartbeat on the other side started beating faster in response, but it wasn't out of fear like Lyra.

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February 3nd 2006.

Door opened. I opened. Nothing. Nothing watching. Wrong. Wrong, nothing there. No danger. Nothing watching, nothing staring.

No danger.

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Lyra held her breath. She slowly crawled back, away from the door. There was no sound. It didn't attempt to open the door. Had she imagined something once again? She rummaged through her backpack to hold the camping knife she had brought. She clutched it as hard as she could, to a point it made her hand numb. Then from the backpack, James' journal fell out. Could he have also ran into whatever that was out there? Glancing back and forth between the door and the journal, Lyra held the knife with one hand and then flipped through the journal with the other. She read through the journal, many times dropping it, due to how shaky she was.

She read about how James felt like he was being watched by a tall figure. Lyra grew sicker as she kept reading about her uncle growing more and more paranoid, trapped by this thing. She made it to the entry of her uncle staring at the creature which prompted him to open the door. But once she flipped past that entry. She dropped the journal and didn’t dare to pick it up.

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February 4nd 2006.

I am leaving the cabin. I am not hurt, I am not in danger. I am leaving, no one should look for me. It's not watching me. I am going to leave. You should visit the cabin. You are not in danger. I am not real, I am not watching you. Stare out the window. It is safe.

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His uncle's handwriting had been replaced by crude scratches. She could barely make out the handwriting, it was feral and unnatural. Like something that didn't know how to write trying to mimic it, but mimicking it frighteningly well, and getting better at it. Streams of tears rolled down Lyra's face, she almost threw up but swallowed it down, so as to not make a sound. She covered her mouth, to drown out the sounds of her sobbing.

Then she heard a knock.

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February 5th, 2006.

When someone knocks on your door, you should answer it. Even when there isn't a knock, you should open it. No doors with windows. Ruins the surprise. There is nothing behind the door. Open the door. I am not behind it.

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Lyra clutched her mouth even harder. After the knock, there was silence. Then another knock. Silence followed, but it was shorter this time. With each knock, the time between them grew smaller, eventually, the knocking did not stop, and the door trembled. The dust that caked the cabin became loose, forcing Lyra to cough violently. The knocking stopped.

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February 6th, 2006.

You are perfect. You have a voice, you have skin. It does not have it. It does not have its own. It is not real. You should share it. You should let it have it. Open the door. There is nothing behind it. Open it.

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"Open the door". A sound came from behind the door. The tone and the inflection were unnatural like it was spoken by someone who didn't understand the meaning or the language. "Open the door". The sound was clearer. "Open the door". Lyra recognized the voice, it was her uncle's. "Open the door". There was no gentleness behind it unlike her uncle's. "Open the door". But it was undoubtedly his voice. "Open the door". She dared not answer. The voice stopped. Lyra stood facing the door, trembling, the knife held with both hands. Time seemed to stop, the deafening silence as maddening as all the other sounds. Then from her side, she noticed a looming shadow.

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February 7th, 2006.

Open it. Open it. Open it. Open it. Open it. Open it. Open it. Open it. Open it. Open it. Open it. Open it. Open it. Open it. Open it. Open it. Open it. Open it. Open it. Open it. Open it. Open it. Open it. Open it. Open it. Open it. Open it. Open it. Open it. Open it. Open it. Open it. Open it. Open it. Open it. Open it. Open it. Open it. Open it. Open it.

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A figure stood outside the window. It had James's face, but not his body. It was tall and grotesque. Its limb was thin but twisted like an overgrown tree. When it spoke, its mouth did not move. The sound simply leaked through the face. Its eye shined through the eye sockets, but it did not match up. It was wearing a mask that didn't fit. It wanted a better one. "Let me in. It's me. Let me in", it muttered.

Lyra broke down. Her tears almost blinded her, and her heart felt as if it stopped. She lifted her knife and pointed at her neck.

At her actions, the creature screamed. It left the window and hammered the door. It screamed and begged.

"DON'T RUIN IT! DON'T RUIN IT! I NEED IT! I MUST WEAR IT! DON'T RUIN IT!"

Blood gushed from Lyra's neck. She collapsed, the pool of blood covering the cabin floor. She apologized to her uncle for ruining his cabin floor. Her heart grew slower and slower. The hammering stopped.