Black and White Fire

The cabin in the woods had been abandoned for years, but one night, a candle burned in the window. It was a night very much like this one, a quiet summer night with a light breeze. I had been to the cabin as a kid, but through the years, wild shrubbery had overtaken any semblance of a path; I would now need a machete to get there.

My daughter, Mary, and I were able to see the candle from our quaint home at the edge of the woods. I didn’t think much of it, but when I got home from work the next day, I saw that Mary decided to light a candle in our window sill, facing the cabin.

The very next night, there were two candles burning in the cabin window.

I never asked Mary why she did it. Trust me when I say, I wish I did. If I knew what would happen next, I would have never let her do it, but I suppose it was curiosity.

When I came home from work the next night, there were three candles on our window sill. Two were burning orange, just like this camp fire. The third however burned black and white, sort of like an ever changing burnt marshmallow. I blinked my eyes a few times and called out to Mary.

"Mary! Check this out, you've got to see this!" Silence. I looked around the house. She was nowhere to be found, which is unusual. She usually tells me if she won't be home.

I looked at the three candles on my window sill, and I looked across the way toward the cabin. Three candles burned bright orange.

At this point, I could have waited for Mary to return or gone to the police, and in hindsight maybe I should have done one or the other, but for some reason, I could feel that the cabin in the woods was responsible just as I feel the warmth of this fire here.

I grabbed this machete from the shed, packed a few things, and I headed toward the cabin.

The wild shrubbery that was in the way seemed undisturbed, and it gave me pause. Could she have really gone through here? I called her name a few times. Silence. I started hacking.

"Awww!" I heard my daughter cry. I stopped and swung my flashlight in every direction, trying to figure out which direction the scream had come from. Crickets.

I hacked another limb. It elicited another scream.

"Stop daddy, you're hurting me!"

I stopped. I looked at the limbs I had cut with my machete. The ends were burning with that black and white fire. I looked at my machete. It had become engulfed with the black and white fire. I began stamping out the fires with my feet. It consumed me, and I thought it would burn me. However, instead of pain, I felt my daughter's embrace. I don't know if I've ever felt love like this, but as soon as it came, it was gone.

I stood in the bush with two broken branch limbs under my feet, and I could see that now the cabin in the woods only had two candles burning bright orange.

I decided that I would try going around the shrubbery and see if there was a back way. After a seemingly aimless night of wandering, I could see I was no closer to the cabin than when I started, and I was getting cold.

I gathered twigs and tree branches and tried to start a fire.

Now, I tried cutting tree limbs with my machete, hoping the black and white fire will return. It never did, so I tried cutting other things.

I searched all night for her. When daybreak came, I returned home and tried to get clues from my daughter's diary. The only sentence that filled its pages was "Stop daddy, you're hurting me!" And then it too became submerged in that black and white fire. Startled, I dropped the diary, but decided not to put it out that time. The flame simply sat there, indefinitely, not consuming a thing.

Sitting dazed and amazed, it dawned on me that the cops wouldn't believe a word I said. What? No! How could you think that? Don't even say it. I didn't kill her. After I could not find her that night, I scoured her contacts, I searched the whole city. I've been from campsite to campsite looking for her, trying to find any gleam of that black and white fire. I'm on the run, but it is from the fire too, I swear.

But now, wait. The fire, THE FIRE, don't you see? It's changing right in front of our eyes! Can't you see? Can't you hear her?! My poor daughter is calling to me. Don't just sit there, come into it with me. It won't hurt!