Cabin to Forever

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

It wasn't an ordinary candle, with a white or yellow flame. The flame had a neon red glow, and the candle itself glowed the same hue.

Stacy chanced upon it, when she was walking her black lab, Barrel, late at night. She's meant to just take Barrel out for a quick pee. But then, they thought they'd heard an owl, and Stacy had a deep fondness for owls...

The trail was familiar, for the first little while. Then the hooting seemed to move a bit, and they'd followed it.

After walking through an abandoned sand quarry, they'd walked over the ridge and found, below, an expansive view: the moonlit on a bay, surrounded by rolling hills, and, in the distance, a small light, almost like a firefly. They'd walked towards it, following the trail from an old logging road.

Barrel had been excited, by the unfamiliar smells. Stacy caught the scent of ferns, cedars, and wet dirt after a fine-mist rain.

They'd been going along peacefully and quite contentedly, when they'd reached a spot on the ridge that just felt cold. There was no other way to describe it. The sounds around them seemed to go 'blank,' like a tv channel that had been muted.

Stacy was aware that something was different. Barrel's hackles started to raise; she'd started to breath faster, even though her gait had not changed.

The owl called again, but this time, it was not a soft, pleasing sound, but a raspy screech.

Rain suddenly fell from the sky, as if a huge floodgate had been opened. Thunder crashed, across the water, as lightening lit up the sky.

Stacy saw the outline of the cabin. It looked slightly familiar, but, with the sudden wind and torrential downfall, she wasn't thinking about what it was - just that it was shelter.

The walk back home was quite far, and Stacy hoped to ride out some of the wet storm before heading home, under the shelter of the cabin's porch. She and Barrel quickly headed down the slope, towards the cabin - the candle's flame flickering through the drenching downpour.

As they raced toward the cabin, Stacy's foot fell into a small hole - more of a deep depression, really. She felt her ankle twist quickly, and she regretted having run in the dark. Stacy continued on, limping toward the porch, and knocked on the door. As she did so, the candle blew out, and she soon felt a bony hand on the back of her neck.

"I've been expecting you," she heard a low, deep voice hiss. "But you took too long, to get here!"

Whipping around, she faced a gaunt middle-aged man, who looked like he hadn't eaten much in a very long time. The moonlit, glancing off the falling rain barely lit up the hollow contours of his face. He wore overalls and a plaid workshirt - as if he were from a Walton's episode (but not one of the wholesome characters, more of a vagrant without redeeming qualities).

"Oh?" she shot back, quietly, trying to sound charming and unfazed, hoping to appease.

"I've lit a candle for you... but it's out, now," he retorted. "Come in."

"Thanks... but I'll just wait out here, on your porch... for a minute, if that's alright."

"No, it's not. Come in," he repeated.

Barrel started to growl a low, soft growl.

The man shot Barrel a look and reached for a pitchfork, leaning against the wall by the door.

"I'll head back now, I guess." Stacy started to step off the decking to the ground. Getting drenched seemed the better option, now.

"I wouldn't go, if I were you," his voice almost sang out, but there was a hollowness to it.

"These woods are haunted." He warned, laughing almost delightedly.

Stacy looked back. Beside him had appeared a ghostly figure - a woman much like himself, in terms of physique... slight and gaunt. But there was a pale, whitish glow emanating from her. Stacy wondered, for a second, if it could be an effect of the moonlit, but at the same time, she knew this did not make sense, as the older man had no such glow.

Stacy turned quickly. Walking a few hurried paces, she suddenly heard a deep growling in the woods, just ahead of her, in the thick undergrowth... like the sounds of a fight beginning, between two larger-sounding animals (almost cougar-like, if she had to name it, but nothing that she'd ever heard before).

The man laughed, again, as she turned back to look at him - but it was not a hearty laugh... a thin, eerie soul-less laugh. The woman had disappeared from view.

"Reconsidering your options?" he called out, gruffly.

Stacy froze in place. Barrel suddenly dropped, at her feet, un-moving. Stacy bent down and placed her hand on Barrel's side... her sides didn't move up or down.

Fir boughs lashed against Stacy's neck, whipping her drenched clothing, as the wind roared. The boughs almost seemed alive, swatting her from all sides.

Stacy, stayed frozen in-place, not knowing what to say or do. Night was all around her, and her best friend lay on the ground beside her, unmoving.

Lightening lit up the cabin once more, and she caught an outline of the man heading her way, pitchfork in hand.

Stacy didn't think, just turned and ran (tripping over Barrel in her haste) - straight into the bushes. She raced forward, trying to follow the ground, with her feet, quickly calculating where it angled upwards, falling forwards sometimes, as she grasped branches, and rocky outcrops. She tried to run and hide at the same time - all too aware that her heart was beating out of her chest and that the sound of her escaping must be very audible to her pursuer.

She reached the top of the ridge, and paused, to listen, and catch her breath. The sound of her panting, along with the wind and the rain, made it hard to hear any other noises. Stacy briefly noticed the beauty of the water and hills under the moonlit - in sharp contrast to the terror she was feeling. 'There's hope,' she reminded herself.

Stacy turned quickly away from that stunning scene, and continued quickly, down the hill. A snap of twigs and slight rumble of rocks, on ground nearby, told her that her pursuer might be closing in.

She jumped off a little ledge, miscalculating how far the drop was, rolled and skidded, feeling a stabbing pain in her legs as rock shards tore into her clothing. She felt ripping flesh and blood oozing, down underneath her pantlegs. Stacy kept pushing herself to walk on - as quickly as possible. Her chest hurt.

Suddenly, she felt a hand on her shoulder. It pushed her hard. She landed on her back, hitting her head on stone. Everything went black.

Stacy awoke, to the light of a red glow, on old wooden walls. Old material from a dingy cot, lay underneath her. Her head ached, her muscles were sore. She found it hard to move.

In the next room, a female voice asked anxiously, "What's next?"

"You'll see," a male voice replied.

Stacy's eyes closed again. She was too tired to move, and too scared to try. Maybe if she played dead, it would buy her more time. Maybe if she pretended to still be sleeping, she could figure out who they were and what her options were. And regain her strength.

"We haven't got much time," urged the female voice.

"Leave it to me," the male voice responded. "We've got what we need, and then some. You'll have your life back, soon enough. I promise."

"The full moon is almost over," she hissed.

"Let the ceremony begin," said the man, solemnly, with a hint of glee.

In the next room, Stacy's mind jolted awake. Her eyes opened wide, in full panic mode, her heart racing, in terror. She heard, on the other side of the wall, a dull scraping sound, of metal on wood, then footsteps...

'It is now, or never,' she told herself.

She dashed toward the door. A thin, but strong, arm caught her around the shoulder. She instinctively screamed and thrashed against it.

Stacy felt a hard blow to the back of her head. She told herself to fight against the feeling of her body losing power. She felt her face scrape against the wooden planks of the wall, as she fell forward.

Then, everything went dark.