A Candle in the Window

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

At first, I wasn’t sure what I was seeing as I slipped past the last row of bare trees and cautiously entered the clearing. Surely, the cabin was empty. It was almost a full day’s trek to reach it from the main trail system in this part of the park. It was uncommon enough in the summer for anyone to hike in this deep, but to come here in late-October was unheard of. Only a handful of people knew the location of the cabin. The only possible way someone could be here was if they were lost. 

I knew of the cabin, and where it could be found. I had hiked these woods all my life. I  remember coming here years ago with a friend who’s face I couldn’t recall, but I never had the desire to return. Something about the old place had unsettled me back then. Why was I here now?

My heart raced as I moved closer. I could see the cabin illuminated in the cold moonlight. It slumped against the far trees—vines and weeds consuming most of the rotting wooden walls. As if the forest were slowly digesting a corpse.

The candle burned slow and steady in the single window at the front of the small structure. I couldn’t see anything beyond the muted orange glow but darkness. 

Icy fingers of terror caressed my spine as I crept around the perimeter of the clearing. I was cautious to keep my footfalls light on the dry leaves and twigs. 

Just as I reached the cabin on the far side, I paused, listening. I could hear nothing within. No movement or any other sign that there was anyone inside. I stood for a moment, hearing the whisper of the chilly fall breeze as it echoed around the derelict building. Perhaps whoever was in there was asleep.

Or dead.

As I made to take a step forward, something exploded from the trees behind me. On instinct, I ducked, covering my head. I felt the rush of air as a dark shape whipped by me. Instead of the horrendous attack I was sure was coming, I watched, instead, as a shadowy form flew off into the cold October night. The owl letting out a mournful screech as it disappeared into the darkness.

I took a deep breath, trying to calm my pounding heart. Again, I questioned why I had come here. I remembered hiking through the dark woods, with the skeletal trees surrounding me. I was unsure of my destination. My singular thought was to reach the cabin, as if something lured me here.

I pressed my back against the rough wood of the cabin wall and shuffled along until I reached the window. I looked up at the full moon shining down on me like a spotlight. I had to fight the primal urge to run back to the relative safety of the shadowy trees. I felt my legs trembling. Screwing up my courage, I leaned over and looked in the window.

The candle was gone.

I blinked a few times to be sure I wasn’t seeing things. Was this the correct window? Looking to the far side of the door, I spotted a second window, but creeping vines and a young pine tree that grew partly into the wall shrouded it from view. There were no other windows on this side of the cabin.

Maybe the candle just went out, or the wind blew it out while I was making my way across the clearing.

I squinted my eyes and peered into the window. Through the grime, I could just make out the stone fireplace that sat crumbling on the far side of the room and a few broken pieces of furniture, but no candle. There wasn’t even anywhere a candle could sit. The windowsill on the inside had rotted out long ago and there was no table or anywhere else it could have stood.

It must have been a trick of the light, I thought. Maybe the moonlight had shone on the window and it just looked like candle light.

At that moment, I wanted to turn and run straight back across the clearing into the trees. Panic threatened to overwhelm me. I turned my head toward the dark forest, my intention clear, but instead, I found myself turning the rusted doorknob and pushing open the door.

What? How…?

I stood, bewildered, as the squealing of the rusty hinges settled. My hand went to my nose as the stench of mold and damp earth hit me.

The cabin was a shell of what it must have been when it was new. Where once sat an impressive fireplace, now lay a forgotten pile of burned stones and wood. The comfortable hand-made furniture now lay in pieces, their once flowery coverings all but rotted away. The branch of a large tree had smashed through the back wall, looking like a gnarled hand reaching for some long forgotten prize.

The dreary atmosphere lay like a pall over the derelict cabin. As I moved further into the main room it pulled at me as if a weight were tied to each leg. I shivered as I peered into the darkness. I could just make out two other doorways off of the main room, probably bedrooms. And a small kitchen to my right. The wooden cabinets had torn away from the wall on one side, spilling long rusted food cans along the moss covered counter top. The frigid air inside the cabin bit into me with icy teeth. It felt so much colder than outside.

 I turned my head toward the fireplace, in envy at the warm fires that must have once burned there, when my eye caught something in the opposite corner. I jumped, a small yelp escaping my lips. The shadows were thick, making it difficult to see, but there was something there. I could just make out the silhouette of a figure. The head lolled to one side as it swayed slowly, back and forth. It seemed to watch me from the darkness. Icy waves of fear radiated along my spine as I shuffled back. It made no move toward me, just continued to sway.

“Who are you? What do you want?” I called. I waited a moment for any reaction from the thing in the corner, but it only continued its ceaseless motion.

The motion seemed odd to me, and upon looking closer I realized in horror that the thing in the corner wasn’t swaying. It was swinging.

I took two cautious steps forward with my heartbeat pounding in my ears. I peered into the shadowy corner, and what I saw there froze my blood. 

It was a body.

The figure looked like a woman. She hung from a frayed rope tied to a beam in the rotting ceiling. Her head craned to one side, clumps of long, stringy hair hanging over what remained of her face. The mummified skin stretched over the yellow bone of her skull like some kind of hideous dried meat. The body swayed ominously back and forth.

Again, every instinct inside screamed for me to turn and run, and never look back, but I stood frozen, transfixed. I felt helpless as I moved closer to the skeletal woman. The faint scent of old rot hit me and I cringed as I inched closer still. I could see now what was left of her clothing. Tatters of a striped blue and white, moth-eaten sweater hung from her arms and what remained of her jeans sagged down the skeletal legs. Fingers of dread wormed their way through my head as I stood there. Like some kind of strange familiarity that I couldn’t put my finger on. 

Glancing down at her wrist, I noticed a metallic bracelet hanging there. It’s colorful flower pattern long since turned to rust. Something triggered in my memory, but it stayed just out of reach.

I know that bracelet. Where have I seen it before?

My mind struggled as I looked at the woman’s hand. One bony finger extended outward and seemed to point at something. Looking over, I could just make out a small, leather-bound book sitting on a warped shelf nearby. On its cover was an inlay with the initials ‘N. C.’ in gold letters. With fingers trembling, I reached for the book.

Those initials. They seem so familiar.

My feeling of unease grew stronger as I carefully opened the cover. Most of the pages had rotted away, but a few yet remained covered in faded hand-written letters. Taking one last look at the body, I read.

July 22, 2004,

To my dearest Thomas,

I write these words to you now, knowing that you’re never coming back.

I wanted you to know that the years we spent in this cabin together were the best years of my life. Even when you walked away, I still held out a small spark of hope for us. Remember, I told you I would keep a candle lit in the window until you returned to me? Well I did just that, my love. I kept a candle lit faithfully for almost two years.

But I can’t look out the window anymore, Thomas. So today, I blew the candle out. Without you, there isn’t anything left for me out there. Maybe maybe one day you’ll find this diary and understand that you were my entire world. Or maybe you don’t think about me at all anymore. I guess it doesn’t matter now. Nothing matters. I just hope we can meet again in a better place.

Take care, my sweet Thomas.

Anguish threatened to overwhelm me as I read the letter. Glancing to the bottom of the page, the woman had written her name in broad, flowing script. It took me a moment to make it out, but when I could finally decipher the letters, I stepped back in shock, dropping the book to the floor.

Nancy Clarke

I stared in shock at the worn page and the signature that was at least twenty-eight years old. It was a signature I knew all too well.

 It was my own.

This had to be an insane co-incidence. Why was my name in this poor woman’s book? What was happening?!

My eyes moved back to the bracelet around the bony wrist, then to the sweater that lay ragged around the woman’s thin form. Why did she look so familiar? And why did I know this place?

My head whipped around toward the intact window where I had seen the candle. Looking below it to the floor I could see a vague shape lying forgotten in a thick layer of moss. It was a brass candle holder.

Thomas.

The name whispered through my head, tickling my memory.

Thomas.

Who was Thomas? I didn’t know anyone….

“THOMAS!” The name burst out of my mouth in a great wail. I was engulfed then, by a terrible sense of longing, as if a piece of my soul were being peeled away. My shoulders heaved with fits of sobbing as I was shrouded in a blanket of despair. I lifted a hand to wipe a tear, but could feel no wetness on my cheek. As I pulled my hand away, I saw a flash of metal and, looking closer, my eyes went wide. The flower pattern was unmistakable. It was the same bracelet that was on the woman’s wrist. Then, looking down at my body, It sickened me to see a familiar blue and white stripe pattern running its way down my sweater.

No. It couldn’t be. It couldn’t be. It….

I looked again in horror at the skeleton woman’s face. Although she was too rotted away to identify, I knew now who it was that hung there.

I dropped to my knees in front of the desiccated corpse. I howled again as memories swept over me in a great wave of guilt and shame. In one instant I felt the pain as Thomas walked across the clearing into the trees and didn’t look back. I swam in the anguish of spending years alone in this tiny cabin, hoping—praying, that my love would return to me. And I tasted the despair as I slipped the rope over my neck….

I knelt there, knowing now what I had become. There would be no reprieve for me after what I had done. No eternity in a better place with the man I once loved. I was doomed to wait here forever, longing for a life that would never be lived and a love that would never come.

I looked at my hands as they began to fade in wispy tendrils. I felt my spirit being pulled away from this place. But with quiet resignation I knew I would be back. Just as I had been, again and again, and again. 

As everything I had been continued to wash away, one image remained imprinted on my fading consciousness. It was a candle. Burning stoic and silent, like a beacon calling me to it’s eternal warmth.

#

The cabin in the woods was abandoned for years, but one night, a candle burned in the window. And as she had done for eighteen years, Nancy gazed from the window and watched herself walk across the clearing to her eternity.

THE END