Burn

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

I had been camping in the same spot in Olympic National Park for years, I knew every sound, every rock, every tree; or so I thought. My favorite part about this site in particular is that it is far enough from the beaten path to get away from everything, yet close enough to be my quick weekend getaway. The best part is that my campsite is about a mile away from a ridge with enough elevation to overlook the green expanse of the old growth forest below and to see the stars. I liked to hike up there before dawn and sit and watch the colors of the sky change from a deep oceanic blue to the pink and fiery orange swirl of the awaking sun. The birds would sing their morning song, leaving me feeling free and refreshed and ready to face the week ahead. This was a great, calming, rejuvenating experience for me and I tried to go at least monthly, and I had regularly for about 3 years. So, like I said, I thought I knew everything what this place had to offer.

During my last trip, I had gotten to ‘my site’ a little later than I wanted, being held up by frustrating meetings at work and then high traffic on my drive out. I set up my camp just as the sun was setting, I had just enough daylight to get my tent set up and the fire started before the darkness swept in. My dinner consisted of a pre-made PBJ sandwich and a Coors Light; I am a terrible campfire cook.

Finally able to relax, I sat back in my chair, closed my eyes and let my senses take in everything around me. My breath slowed, matching the rustling breeze, the gentle lapping of the nearby creek making its way to the coast, the dampness of the air being pushed aside by the warmth of the cackling and biting flame, the smell of… hmm, one of my favorite smells, the smoky bitterness of the campfire wasn’t as strong, in fact; I couldn’t smell it at all. My eyes flew open as I had this realization. “Shit, I better not be coming down with Covid, that is the last thing I need right now”. A small panic erupted after a long swig of my beer also seemed to be tasteless. Ah, of course, drinking Coors, did I expect it to be any more flavorful than water? The stress of the week and probably a few too many of the water beers left me unusually anxious, and knowing I had an early start in a couple of hours to catch the sunrise, I decided to call it a night. I grabbed a bucket of water I had already prepared to smother the flames. Listening to the hissing, for a second, I thought I heard a whispering in the dying flame. I also thought there didn’t seem to be the normal smoke trialing up to the sky, however, as I took the final swig of my beer, I put these oddities out of my mind. The last thing I remember as I fell into a restless sleep was a dancing flame underneath my closed eyes.

“We didn't start the fire

It was always burning, since the world's been turning

We didn't start the fire

No, we didn't light it, but we tried to fight it”

I love Billy Joel and usually set my alarm or ring tone to a shuffle of his top hits. This morning I rolled out of my sleeping bag and flipped on my flashlight just as Mr. Joel got to the chorus.

By quarter after 4, I was already on the trail to beat the sunrise. Even in the darkness, I could easily find my way by memory and my headlight. Lost in my thoughts and watching the trail for roots, I almost didn’t notice the unofficial guidepost that directed a turn to the left. It was an old, abandoned cabin. There are countless campfire and ghost stories of the origin and I had heard them all. The two story structure had been there for almost 50 years and stories ranged from mysterious disappearances to aliens to Bigfoot. The Bigfoot legend is prominent in this area, so this was my most favorite, but either way, I obviously avoided it; always just noticing it enough to take a 90-degree left at the path to the entrance to continue on the way to the ridge.

I tend to keep attentive to the trail here, but this morning, my eyes were drawn to a window on the second story. A lonely candle flickered in the window. I stopped in my tracks and stared.

“Fuck that!” I said out loud. While part of me wanted to go investigate, I am not an idiot. This is the start of a horror film! I know it was probably some random camper, but I couldn’t stop the shiver that started on the back of my neck and spread down my spine. I turned left and continued to the ridge.

Two hours later, after sipping my coffee while watching a gorgeous sunrise, I was headed back down the trail. As I got to the old house I stopped and noticed the candle was still lit. It was now a bright sunny morning, and the cabin didn’t look as ominous as it did a couple hours before. My curiosity got the best of me and I also didn’t want the candle to fall and start a fire so I decided to explore.

Cobwebs draped over the door as I pushed it open, a layer of dust flew up causing a coughing fit. I expected to see beer cans and other signs of campers, but it looked like the cabin hadn’t been entered in ages. An expansive staircase invited me in and even the morning glow couldn’t combat the chill that hung in the air inside. My grand plans of exploring an abandoned cabin now seemed incredibly foolish. Determined to blow that candle out to prevent a forest fire, I started up the dusty stairs. At the top of the landing, I seemed to instinctively know which room the mysterious candle was in. There it was, sitting on the windowsill of a room that overlooked the front of the cabin. I stopped in my tracks when I entered the room, the candle wasn’t even lit. Confused, I turned around and looked through the other 3 rooms on the upper level, but none of them had any candles. I figured it must have blown out with the gust of the front door opening, but for reasons I could never explain, I grabbed the candle to take it back with me. The wax stick felt cold in my hand and offered no evidence that it had ever been lit.

Thoroughly confused, I took the first step down the stair when I felt a rush of heat in my hand. I shouted as the lifeless candle burst into flame and I instinctively dropped it out of shock. The old, dusty landing quickly erupted into flames and there was nothing I could do but run downstairs and outside. Panting, I turned around and faced the cabin with a demonic, fiery glow overtaking it. I knew I should run, try and get to a park ranger, do something, anything! Instead, my feet felt rooted to the ground, and I silently watched the cabin engulfed in flame.

I don’t remember anything else until I noticed that the sun had shifted all the way to the west, starting its decent over the horizon. Had I been standing here all day? What was left of the cabin was hardly even smoldering anymore, only a few coals still glowing. Nothing else seemed to have burned and I had no idea what to do. What could I tell the fire department or ranger? I stayed and watched the cabin burn itself to smithereens, a fire that I have no idea how it started, meaning I would be the likely suspect? No thanks. I turned and headed back to my camp to pack up and head home. I was even more convinced I must be coming down with Covid, maybe this was all a weird fever dream.

The rest of the weekend just seemed to be a burning haze for me. I know I made it home and woke up several times the next night and day in my own bed, sweating through my sheets. I remembered fever dreams of fire, the cabin burning, the whole forest burning, the whole world burning.

Finally, Monday afternoon the fever broke, and I was started to feel slightly more alive. I managed to down several Gatorades and sent a text to my boss that I was feeling better and would be able to return to work (remotely) the next day. The rest of the week was pretty uneventful, I took it easy, trying to recover and chalked up my creepy weekend to that damn virus.

Friday evening I was working on my laptop, trying to catch up on work after missing Monday and being not quite myself all week. Suddenly, every light flicked out. The power seemed to have gone out, but I had no idea why. Not wanting to sit in total darkness, I fumbled around for a lighter to light some candles. I flicked on the lighter and put the flame to Yankee scented candle. As soon as the wick was lit, something seemed to cloud over my brain, my vision tunneled, focusing only on the dancing glow. The whispers that I had thought I heard in the campfire earlier were back and gradually turning into a roar.

BURN, BURN IT ALL, BURN EVERYTHING, BURN IT ALL

Even though I could understand, I felt as if the words were in another language and the understanding was more of an intuition or feeling. It was as if I was in a trance and the flame had a hold on me, nothing else mattered. Without conscious thought or explanation, I felt my hand drawn to the candle, picking it up and bringing it close. I walked it over to a nearby curtain hanging by my front window and angled the flame to it, slowly willing it to touch and alight. All the while BURN screaming over and over in my mind.

Just as the flame began to lick the fabric, the power popped back on, the flame extinguished without smoke, and my mind stilled. The silence of everything was a sharp contrast to the roaring of the BURN in my mind only seconds earlier. Was I really going to burn my house down? I felt a warmth still burning inside of me and decided to check my temperature. 101.5. That must explain all the nonsense that has been happening the past week.

That was several weeks ago, but I don’t remember much of what I have been doing in those days. All I can think about is the fire. Actually, I haven’t even remembered any of this story until just tonight, right after you and asked me to start this lovely campfire. Weeks of nightmares, unexplained blackouts, and most importantly, the memories are flooding back. The overwhelming urge to BURN is back stronger than ever. I know this time nothing can stop me from BURNING IT ALL. Thank you for being my first sacrifice.