A New Direction

“It is absolutely necessary, for the peace and safety of mankind, that some of earth's dark, dead corners and unplumbed depths be left alone; lest sleeping abnormalities wake to resurgent life, and blasphemously surviving nightmares squirm and splash out of their black lairs to newer and wider conquests.”

― H.P. Lovecraft, At the Mountains of Madness and Other Tales of Terror

The cabin in the woods had been abandoned for years, but one night, a candle burned in the window. The slender speck of light flickered with each errant breeze, but somehow managed to stay lit. Shards of glass, still hanging in the broken window, sparkled with each blink of the small flame. Dark and pungent moss hung from the rotting remnants of the cabin; and broken sun-bleached timbers marked what remained of the cabin’s internal structure.

I stood in the weeded clearing in front of the cabin, just staring at the flickering candle. Wondering, who had lit it. Wondering, why someone would light a candle in a forgotten cabin, out in the middle of the woods. I stood only a few feet away, staring at the flame. A hissing sound momentarily captured my attention, and I watched as a mushroom I had stepped disintegrated into a cloud of spores, which slowly swirled over and around me.

I sneezed so hard that my vision swam for a few seconds, and I momentarily lost my balance.

“Darn allergies”, I mumbled to myself.

Earlier that morning, I had hiked up and down the hills bordering this small valley, searching for some colorful rocks I could take home to sand and polish. On one of my previous adventures, I had found a narrow pass leading to this valley, which I had walked through. However, I had stopped at a small creek that slowly trickled through the pass. From there, I studied the remains of the cabin laying within a patch of brightly colored weeds and long twisting vines. I stood there, wondering what the cabin might have looked like when it was new. However, the cabin, like me, was nothing like its younger self. We were both worn and broken. Going through the motions of mimicking life and interacting with the world around us, but really just laying around waiting to be forgotten by the world around us.

That day was the first time I crossed the creek and walked into the narrow glade, where I could see the cabin in its entirety. I was interested in just how broken down and decayed the building was, and something was playing with the sunlight or reflections, because I thought I saw a flicker of light or fire at the front of the cabin. As I walked toward the cabin, I imagined it had once been beautiful, with flower beds planted near it, and a sun porch that wrapped around it.

My wife had always wanted to buy a cabin with a sun porch. Several times in my life, I planned on fulfilling her dream. Only to have life steer me in another direction. Taking me away from my plans. My goals. Her dreams.

I had walked up to the cabin, and for some reason, I stood captivated by the flame dancing at the end of a candle. I wondered how it stayed burning for so long.

The effects of the hard sneeze had finally worn off, and with the lessening of the effects I quit reminiscing about my previous travels and rubbed my running nose on my sleeve. I looked up at the small candle again, and an odd desire overcame me. I wanted to cup the flame within my hands, to make sure nothing could endanger it. I felt invested in its continued existence. However, I also felt a need, nah - more like a compulsion, to get closer to the small flickering flame. I didn’t want to get closer out of some fear of the encroaching darkness and rising fog. Nah, I mean - I used to be afraid of the dark when I was a kid; but I outgrew that -mostly. It was something deeper, more primal, a deep-seeded desire that I did not quite understand. An overwhelming desire that caused my breath to come in short, ragged, and painful gulps. However, despite the gentle breeze flowing through the area, the flame steadied, and the dread lifted from my mind while my hands continued protecting the flickering light.

I rolled my head to the side, watching the undulating haze surround and embrace me, and then titled my head back to stare at the moon and stars peeking through the treetops above me. Nothing was easily discernable, even with a full moon above me the silhouettes of the trees were fuzzy – as if my eyes could not focus. The cabin was right in front of me, but even it was not easily discernible. Except for the ever-present wavering flame.

The silliness of my situation, standing in the middle of no-where while staring at this candle and for some reason thinking of my wife, made me wonder if I hadn’t drunk enough water while hunting rocks in this summer heat. Was I delirious, suffering from heat-stroke, or maybe the mushroom that I stepped on had caused hallucinations?

The candle flickered, and I studied it for a moment, watching its flame flicker and dance. I did not notice any breeze. Perhaps the candle was just getting short, and starting to flicker as it got low?

I was so tired. I felt that if I could sit down and lean my head against the cabin for just a few minutes and catch a short nap, maybe I could gather the mental strength to walk out of there.

As my eyes flittered open and closed, I felt myself slipping into that state of where I was not fully asleep but at the same time not fully awake, some limbo in between the two states. My eyes slowly closed and an image of my wedding day began my dream. However, at the same time I felt something brush against the right side of my face. It was ever so gentle, almost loving. Like the caress of my sweet wife.

My wife, yes.

She was holding the candle before me. I am not sure why her arm was so long, but it elongated, reaching out to wrap around me, comforting me, lifting me ever so gently. As her arm lifted me up and past the flickering candle, I noticed the flickering tip was poised at the end of a long and coiled tendril. However, I did not seem to care. She was here to take care of me again, it was why I loved her. She always helped and cared for me.

A loud splintering and ageless creaking permeated the clearing, a sweet and pungent vapor hissed from the cabin as it struggled to sit up. The area became cloaked with the sweet fog.

I was tired, so tired, but my mind was spinning with everything going on. Spinning through my love, my life, my childhood, and all those things and people I had interacted with.

I was limp and still semi-dreaming in the creature’s grip and noticed the entirety of the cabin was covered in an infinite number of eyes – all fixated on me. Each one looking, not really at me, but seeming to look into me. Measuring me, evaluating my worth. However, the sweet smell of honey-suckle infused fog lulled my senses, and against all sane and rational thought I did not really care about my predicament.

The haze surrounding me was now blotting out everything, except the peculiar creature who no longer looked much like a cabin, but a giant horribly mangled corpse with desiccated skin, protruding ribs, and a glowing pseudopod that was now dangling before me. I had a weird notion that it was teasing me, showing me that what I thought was a candle, was in fact the glowing appendage of this creature’s body. The small flickering glow stopped, and the tendril held me aloft before what I thought was a large frayed antique throw rug, until the edges parted – revealing a large black iris consisting of a countless number of eyes.

My eyes closed, my body felt weightless, and I did not hear, but felt in my mind, the intrusion of a deep gurgling voice say, “I have lain here for a millennium, mangled and unable to move, waiting for something to find me and wander close.”

The gurgling voice waits only a few moments to make sure I am still cognizant, and continues, “I will only take enough of your essence to bind you to me. You shall be a worthy servant of mine and bring more of your kind to this location; Beginning with the being who occupies your thoughts, the one called Wife.”

***

I set my teacup down onto the wooden floor of the cabin and stretch my arms and legs up and out as my story comes to an end. I raise out of my chair and kneel before you.

With all the warmth I can muster, I look into your eyes and gently clutch your lolling head that has drooped to your left side, and tell you, “Ok, well that has become an old story. All of that happened many years ago; Long before I created the new rockhounding club, and an even longer time before you and I met.”

I take a few moments, to make sure you are still awake and aware of your status, and continue, “I appreciate you making time to sit and listen to my story. However, I believe the cabin, who I have come to learn is an otherworldly being named Yog-Soggoth, is becoming impatient. I noticed you became limp and unresponsive a few minutes ago. Although, I assure you that your transition will be painless.”

I ease your head back, to rest against the back of a cushioned chair. While looking at the flickering pseudopod now hovering just behind your head, and I say to you, “One final note, I will be back tomorrow morning to explain how your new life will have, hmm how to say, a new direction.”

THE END