Blue Whirl

"The cabin in the woods had been abandoned for years, but one night, a candle burned in the window." Angus began his story in a low and enticing voice. The campfire crackled, sending firebrands into the night sky. His audience of teen-aged campers was already becoming unruly. "Oy! Just 'cause I can't see you doesn't mean I don't know what you're up to," Angus warns, ducking a barrage of marshmallows with a wave of his hand. "Alright, alright you rascals! Settle down and listen." Angus takes a moment to smell the air, thick with smoke and the scent of wet pine needles. As he lifts his chin toward the light of the moon, he continues his story.

"Is Dem here already?" Hill asks with some disappointment as he points toward the dilapidated structure. Its roof is steeply slanted, showing every jagged shingle, moss dotting the slope in green mounds. The glass from the front window peeks out from behind the roof, its sill just visible with each flicker of light, an erratic flicker both dim and brilliant in its pulsing show. Hill and Iris hope they've arrived early for the camping trip.

Dem appears on the porch of the cabin, having gotten there before them as they expected. "Why did I think we'd get some alone time," Hill sighs as he throws his hands in the air. Iris gives him a side glance. "Chill." Dem exits the cabin as if it's the room of a sleeping child, cautiously turning toward the knob to shut the door. Suddenly, with a jolted start, he leaps from the steps, looking back like something might follow. He's panting as he hurriedly walks up. "We're not staying. Call Ange and tell him to turn around." Dem is in a quieted panic. Behind him the light in the cabin's front window continues its show. It seems to have changed in hue as dusk approaches, and gives the illusion of dancing reflected water. "What's going on? Are you ok? There's no service here! Why are you freaking out?!" Iris replies in her usual spitfire tone. "There's a freaking bone on fire in there," Dem replies. "A bone on fire? Ok." Iris has become jaded by Hill and Dem's antics, expecting this instance to be just another comic display. "Where do you come up with this shit? Dem, get your spooky disco lantern and let's set the tents up. Please! It's gonna be dark soon." Hill nudges his wife. "Iris, I have nothing to do with this. This whole bone-fire thing is all Dem." She suspects this is some sort of elaborate Dad joke and rolls her eyes at him. "There's a goddamn bone, like a freaking leg bone or something, sitting in the front window, on fire," insists Dem. "Well put it out, man! The whole pile's gonna go up in flames!" Hill starts to become anxious. He and Dem grew up like brothers and he senses a genuine note of fear in his tone.

Iris glares at the guys, then fixes her stare upon the cabin. The flicker of light has become more steady and more blue, giving the cabin a strangely modern visage. As she begins to move closer to the cabin's door, the light ceases.

Hill grabs Dem's arm. "Dude." Iris backs up. "Guys, I don't feel good," says Dem. "This is fucked, really really fucked," Iris mumbles as she trips toward their camping equipment. "Guys, my legs are really cold. They're really fucking cold. Fuck, they're burning! They're fucking burning!" Dem collapses. The light in the cabin resumes, this time brighter and with the audible buzz of an old neon sign.

Ange was lost. Nighttime had crept into the forest and erased all patterns of light from between the branches. He's been to the campsite countless times and recognizes the various markers on the path from the main road. First the leaning oak, then the creek, the rusted 'no trespassing' sign and then the clearing in the canopy where the old cabin stands. The usual sound of peepers and crickets mingles with the breeze, but there's a new and unfamiliar sound. He can almost feel the noise in his bones. It's warbling and low, mechanical yet deep like a growl. He seeks the clearing with his flashlight. The beam seems to merge with a nearby fog. He begins to retrace his steps when he hears a man's shriek. It's fading in and out like an hysterical siren. Ange feels cold. The cold of anxiety, he thinks. This familiar place feels unfamiliar. The cold begins to spread, from his stomach up his spine then down his legs. He squeezes his eyes closed, sweat dripping from his brow, and falls to his knees.

Dem is writhing on the ground, clutching his shins. Hill yells for Iris. "Iris, look at his legs! His legs are fucking blue!" "It's the light. It's gotta be the reflection of the light." Iris bends down in speculation. He begins to howl louder as she approaches. "They're fucking burning! My legs are on fire! They're on fire!" Dem is rocking from side to side with unnatural vigor. His legs have taken on an unmistakable color, a venous blue spreading like bleeding ink up his thighs. All of a sudden the light goes out. The buzzing is becoming louder and Iris and Hill begin to feel it deep within their ears. Dem continues rolling and howling at their feet. "It feels like I'm under water," Hill yells. "Do you feel that?!" He seeks Iris in the dark with one hand, the other hand over his ear. The light returns at that moment, just as quickly as it disappeared. Iris's face is revealed. Her eyes are gone, replaced with a bulging, rolling flame that looks like blue ice. It spreads violently down her nose and into her mouth, splitting her cheeks with the hard force. She tries scream, but a violet-colored spittle spews out instead. She drops next to Dem, who doesn't notice her lifeless body until he also approaches stillness.

For a moment Hill stands over the bodies, shocked and confused. The pressure in his ears is becoming unbearable. His teeth begin to chatter as he runs away, shaking his head in baffled desperation. The cabin's light has gone out, yet again, and he scrambles into the darkness. His foot snags a root, and in that moment of blind weightlessness his body combusts, falling to the ground in a burning heap. He writhes in tortured silence until he is nothing but a pile of ash. The cabin stays dark. The buzzing has ceased. A single bone remains ablaze, sizzling blue atop the damp carpet of pine needles. His remains swirl away with the forest breeze.

"Listen to the sound of the bugs and frogs. It's the sound that surrounds the cabin. Three lives extinguished, yet a burning relic persists." Angus is basking in the expectant attention of his campers. A thick fog has rolled in, lending a violet tint to the ambient glow.

"So what happened to Ange?" An inquisitive camper with glasses and a smirk looks to Angus for a conclusion. Angus ignores the question and cups his hands to his ears. "That noise..." He sticks his nose in the air, blindly searching for the source of the dreadful, warbling buzz. "No...Run! Run away from the noise!" The campers look at each other with frightened uncertainty. "Fucking run, I said!" Angus is left alone in the firelight, ears throbbing and frost-bitten with fear. Suddenly it goes dark.