The Taper in Wait

The cabin in the woods had been abandoned for years, but one night, a candle burned in the window. Now, it hadn’t been all that long since the Henderson kid’s face showed up on the sides of milk cartons. There’d already been a lot of talk about where he’d gone off to, and who took him there—gossip stoked by the haunting sight of the candle his parents kept lit in his bedroom window, hoping it would somehow guide him home. So when rumors began circulating around town that the old pine-loggers’ cabin also had a taper burning in one of its clouded windows, the McHale boys just had to get a look for themselves.

They were about the same age, the two of them. Cousins, young, and very much torn from the same fabric, though stitched in different patterns. Nick, a warm herringbone. Hunter, a common knit. Nick stayed the night at Hunter’s house because he lived closer to the woods. Around midnight, they snuck out through a window and biked to the dark tree line across from the sleeping fairgrounds, where they hid their bikes in the brush and set out on foot for the pine-loggers’ cabin. Carrying flashlights to see and sticks to break up any spiderwebs, they regaled each other with scary stories they’d heard about how that Henderson kid went missing.

Nobody wanted to think about it, Nick said, but his vanishing had something to do with the traveling State Fair showing up last week. There were strange disappearances in every town the carnival had stopped in for longer than a few days. They couldn’t prove it yet, but those kids were taken by some deranged carnie—that’s what Nick’s parents said, anyway.

But Hunter disagreed. No, that wasn’t it. His older brother told him there was this house just on the outskirts of town where devil worshippers lived. You’d know it by the candle burning in the window, if you ever went driving by. Story goes, if you circled back around and rode by the house again, there’d be as many lit candles in the window as there were passengers in the car—and if you were smart, you’d hit the gas and get the hell outta dodge. His brother found the house with his friends one night, and they all swore they saw the candles for themselves…

No, it wasn’t no deranged carnie, Hunter said. The Henderson kid had been used as some sort of ritual sacrifice, and everybody was thinking it even if they weren’t saying it.

Then Hunter shined the beam of his flashlight up from under his chin, casting his own face in shadow, and he said, “Why else would there be a candle burning in the window of an abandoned cabin in the woods? Because that’s where he was sacrificed.”

Continuing onward, the McHale boys soon noticed a faint glow of yellow light through the trees. They clicked off their flashlights as they moved out from the brush and into a clearing where the dark, dilapidated structure stood. Reverent and full of fear, they stepped closer toward the cabin with a single candle—a slim taper—burning in its frontmost window.

There it was. They could see it with their own eyes.

The rumor was true.

Hunter put a finger to his shushing lips, and Nick couldn’t help but wonder what might hear them all the way out there…

Then Hunter turned and whispered, “I dare you to go inside. Alone.”

At first, Nick laughed. But then he realized his cousin was serious. Hunter explained that he was out there last night with his older brother, who’d dared him to do the same thing. They'd both gone inside on their own, and now it was Nick’s turn to make the McHale name proud. That’s why they were there, so what’s it gonna be?

Well, Nick thought about it for a second. If both of his cousins had done it, there couldn’t be much harm to it. Plus, if he refused, he’d never be able to live it down. For all he knew, they were the ones who’d lit the candle. His older cousin was probably in there right now, hiding, waiting to jump out and frighten him. But he wouldn’t be afraid. No, they’d tell this story for years. Nick went into the old abandoned cabin by himself, they’d say, and he wasn’t even scared.

Yeah. His cousins were pulling his leg. That’s all there was to it.

So Nick clicked his flashlight back on, and Hunter told him what he had to do. Go into every room and shine the light out of each window. Hunter would follow around the outside to make sure he saw the light and confirm that Nick had lived up to the dare.

Excited to prove himself, Nick mounted the creaking steps of the porch and found the front door unlocked. It groaned as he opened it with a slow push, and with one last look back at Hunter, Nick snuck inside and closed the door behind him as he went.

Then Hunter broke with laughter, covering his mouth so he wouldn’t make a sound. He had never set a single foot inside that place, and neither had his brother, as far as he knew. He couldn’t believe his own cousin was gullible enough to do it, but once Nick scared himself and ran back out hollering, it would sure make a good story. Besides, it was just an abandoned shack. Older kids went out there all the time to party, to drink and smoke weed and make-out. There was no such thing as devil worshippers or satanic rituals. There were no deranged carnies scorching the Bible Belt with a traveling fair, snatching up children from funhouses. That Henderson kid just had a bastard for a father, so he hopped on his bike one day and never looked back.

He ran away. It happened all the time. The police said so on the news.

But that burning candle in the window… That was the only thing Hunter couldn’t explain.

Nick called out from inside and swiped the beam of his flashlight back and forth across the front windows, making sure Hunter could both hear and see him. He could. Then the light flared out through the first pane on the right, and the game began. Hunter rounded the corner, making good on his promise to follow and confirm. But it felt a little too quiet now that he was alone. He didn’t hear any tree frogs in this part of the woods. No crickets. No barred owls or rustling opossums. As silly as it seemed, he felt exposed. Vulnerable. Like someone was watching him from behind a pine tree or thicket of azalea… Or maybe from inside one of the cabin’s dirty windows…

He was already anxious for Nick to finish the task, but he couldn’t turn back on the joke now. So he just jammed his hands in his pockets and walked around the clearing, holding his breath each time until the next window was illuminated.

Nick checked in around the sixth window, making sure Hunter was still there. Yes, he was still there.

Then, as Nick moved on to the next room, Hunter thought he saw something in his peripheral—a flashlight beam shining out through one of the windows they’d already passed…

But looking back, there was no light.

Coming around the other side of the cabin, Hunter tried to laugh it off and hurry Nick back outside. It was done. He’d proven himself. The McHale name was as proud of ever, and they should get home before his parents realized they were gone.

But Nick lit up the last window on the left and said he couldn’t come out just yet. He was almost done. There was only one more room to go.

Hunter scratched at a fresh mosquito bite, trying to figure out what room could be left. He’d accounted for every window, and the cabin wasn’t tall enough to have a second story, or even an attic. Waiting outside the front door, he leaned against the banister railing of the porch and took a good look at the candle in the window, wondering why it was there.

But something was different. Off. Wrong.

There was a second candle on the windowsill now, only it wasn’t lit. It had a long wick that hung limp down its slender side, needing to be trimmed, a taper in wait.

His heart pounded in his chest, and Hunter tried to get Nick to come out again, this time more serious.

But there was just one more room, Nick said again. Just one more. Every time Hunter urged him to leave, to forget the room, Nick would say there was just one more room. Just one more. And every time Nick answered him, his voice carried out from somewhere deeper within the cabin. Further away each time. Too far.

Hunter felt like something was definitely wrong now, so he confessed everything. It was all a prank, a trick. He’d never been inside, and neither had his brother. But now it was time to go, because something wasn’t right. Come out, Nick, come out…

"But how can I come out now?” Nick asked, still further and further away…

The rule was he had to go in every room, wasn’t it? Well, he wasn’t done yet, because he’d just found another door... the basement door...

“Go look for windows at ground-level,” he said, so far away that his voice echoed. “When you see the light, you’ll know where I am.”

But Hunter yelled louder for him not to do it.

Don’t go down there! Come out, Nick, come out…

But a door deep inside the cabin creaked open, and then a door slammed shut, and Hunter knew that his cousin had gone down into the basement of the old abandoned pine-loggers’ cabin. Cursing himself for coming up with such a stupid prank, he ran around the clearing again, shining his flashlight along the edges of the cabin’s wooden base, but there wasn’t a window in sight. No light slipped out between any gaps in the wood.

No cracks or crevices.

Only darkness.

Hunter called out over and over, but Nick didn’t answer. He hollered for him until he hurt his throat and started going hoarse, but wherever his cousin was, he couldn’t hear him.

Now Hunter was panicking, and all he could think to do was to barge into the cabin and drag Nick back out himself. But the instant he set foot on the porch, he stopped cold, frozen at the sight of the front window. He gripped the railing and leaned in for an even closer look than before, just to make sure his eyes weren’t seeing double…

They weren’t.

The wick of the second candle had been trimmed. A second flame had been lit.

The cabin in the woods had been abandoned for years, and now two candles burned in its window. But what chilled Hunter the most was the third taper sitting there next to them, with its long wick waiting to be trimmed and lit—because he knew if he went inside after Nick now, that third candle would soon burn for him.

Then nobody would ever know what happened to the McHale boys.

Gone. Runaways. Just like the Henderson kid.

So Hunter took off running through the woods, running for help. He biked home and woke his parents, who phoned his aunt and uncle, who called the police. Hours later, as the sun came up and Nick still hadn’t been found, all the Chief of Police could tell reporters for certain was that Nick McHale never went into the basement of the pine-loggers’ cabin…

No, he couldn’t have gone into the basement, because the cabin didn’t have one.

And as for the candles—well, he just said you shouldn’t believe everything you hear.