Deep in the Woods

The cabin in the woods had been abandoned for years, but one night, a candle burned in the window. The flame was a pallid, ghostly white. It did not flicker or dance; it simply swayed gently in the stillness of the cabin.

“I heard that the cabin used to belong to a widow, whose husband died at war,” one of the kids would say.

“I heard that it used to belong to a witch who terrorized the nearby villagers,” another would reply.

“It’s just a prank!” The naysayers would cry. “Someone put a fake candle in there to scare people, it’s not real."

The legends and tales flowed forth in boundless detail, but one thing remained certain: no one entered the cabin. There were those who would try, naïve teenagers looking for a thrill and boastful college students eager to prove their bravery. But years passed and none had come close.

Rumors spread that going near the cabin caused physical pain, a splitting headache and a piercing ringing in the ears. Of course, these further fed the tales of a witch enchanting her home to ward off her enemies or the haunted widow eternally tormented by the loss of her husband. But, they were nothing more than rumors. Nevertheless, it became a test of courage to camp near the cabin for the night and many accepted the challenge because of another certainty: no one had ever gone missing.

In fact, as time passed, the legends began to seem more ridiculous. The tales didn’t carry the weight of fear or terror that they intended. Old wives’ tales. The candle burned for near a decade and the allure had all but faded into memory, eroded by time and buried beneath the underbrush along with the cabin that housed it. Until the day came that a little girl from the nearby town went missing in the woods.

Angela Baker was seven years old but held an odd fascination with the lore around the cabin and the candle within. She pored over the stories and tales, memorized the legends, but the day came that she decided to act. She had planned to leave after school one day, to venture into the woods to where the cabin hid beneath the vines. She had a plan, and that involved entering the cabin.

It wasn’t until evening that the search began. The police led a search party that swept the woods carefully. But the search line was broken at the cabin, working a careful circle around the perimeter where the headaches were rumored to begin. A few curious townsfolk peered cautiously at the candle as they passed. One unfortunate soul was caught dead in his tracks when he caught the face of a woman in the window, lit by the candle.

The haunting figure was barely visible beyond the dirt-speckled glass. The candlelight reflected in her eyes as the candle began to stir in frantic movement. Her mouth curled into a wide grin until her lips began to split and crack. The man didn’t scream, he couldn’t. The flashlight shook violently in his hand. A piercing screech was all that was heard, turning all eyes to the cabin. The crowd rushed through the woods, gathering at the cabin, where the candle calmly swayed in the window. The man was nowhere to be found, all that remained was his flashlight laying in the brush.

Laughter could be heard within the cabin, a child’s laughter, but only the candle could be seen. The last traces of sunlight fled behind the trees, lending a darkness to the woods. A cold, pressing darkness.

“Look!” One person shouted, pointing toward the window.

The pale white candle now held a faint red tint.

Whispers erupted in the crowd, breathing life back into the long-forgotten tales about the cabin and new theories began to emerge.

“Enough,” the police chief called to the crowd. “Look, it’s been a long day and I know everyone is a little on edge. It’s getting dark and it won’t do much good looking for this little girl in the pitch of night. In fact, stumbling around in the dark would only disturb the scene further.”

“What about Jim?” A voice cried from the crowd. “Are we just going to leave him out there? What if he’s hurt?”

“Listen, no one is leaving anyone out here,” the police chief said. “We just need to take the evening to rope off the scene, and we will continue to search in the morning.”

The rabble of the crowd rose slightly, but no one challenged the matter. In truth, no one wanted to stay in the woods any longer than they had to. The police taped off a small area and the crowd dissipated. All but the parents of Angela Baker.

“I don’t want to leave our little girl out here,” the mother said. “She’s lost, she’s probably terrified.”

“I understand your concern,” the chief explained. “But I’m afraid there’s nothing more we can do tonight. It’s not safe to wander the woods at night; I’d be risking the life of one of my men if something were to happen.”

“But you would risk the life of my daughter?” the father challenged.

“I know this isn’t easy to hear,” the chief sounded exasperated. “I wish there was more I could do to help, but we could walk past clues or tracks and not see them is this dark. We could walk past your little girl and not see her if she were unconscious or even hiding from us. I want to help you find your daughter and we will continue searching first thing in the morning.”

There was no room for debate, a few officers began to shuffle the parents out of the woods as they finished closing off the area with police tape.

The night was miserable for the Bakers. The dinner table was uncomfortably quiet as the untouched plates of food grew cold. Neither of them said a word. What would they even say except for the only thing that could be said?

It was after midnight when they finally resigned to the bedroom. They did their best to shed the burdens of the day, but the father was restless. He tossed and turned, his mind a misty haze of terrifying scenarios. After a few hours, he rose and began dressing again. His wife woke as he neared the bedroom door.

“Where are you going?” she asked groggily.

“I can’t just leave her out there,” he replied. “I’m going to look for her.”

The woman propped up on her elbow, studying her husband carefully.

“You could get hurt,” she said, sleep clinging to her raspy voice.

“If that’s what it takes,” he shrugged. “It’s my job as a father to protect my daughter and that’s what I’m going to do.”

He didn’t wait for a reply, he hurried from the room, collecting his flashlight from the dresser. His wife sat dumbfounded in bed, still battling her waning consciousness.

The trudge towards the woods was taxing. A low fog was settling in the air, turning the neighborhood streets into a more macabre setting. He approached the school that sat at the precipice of the woods and saw two cop cars pulled up alongside each other. He froze in his tracks and hurried to the nearest cover he could find: the dumpster enclosure just outside the school.

He peered around the cinderblock to get a better view of the cars. The lights were off, and the cars weren’t running. There was no movement from what he could tell. He carefully made his way closer. When he reached the cars, he found the officers in each car fast asleep. There was a moment of disappointment.

Only the best to protect our community, he thought to himself.

A scream erupted from the woods, one that he immediately recognized. He didn’t wait to see if the cops roused or even heard, he took off running to the woods. He clicked the flashlight on as soon as he crossed the threshold of the woods. A lot of good it did him as the blanket of fog hindered the light making it impossible to see too far in front of him.

His heart hammered in his chest and his raspy breath was grating against his throat, but he couldn’t stop. The silence of the woods returned, save for the pounding of his feet in the brush and his harsh and raspy breath. It seemed like an eternity, but he came to a sharp halt as he reached the outskirts of the cabin. His breathing was strained, he hadn’t run like that in twenty years. It was not his fatigue, but fear that had him rooted as he gazed at the candle, the flame gently dancing in the window. It was not still as he remembered and somehow this change disturbed him.

His daze was broken when he heard soft sobs coming from the cabin.

“Angela?” he said softly.

Even with his careful tone, he winced and peered at the trees suspiciously. The thought struck him of something jumping from the darkness at him, dragging him through the fog. He shook his head.

“Angela, sweetie?” he called a little louder.

He slowly approached the cabin, his feet crunching over the decaying leaves with every step. His flashlight held steady at the door, but his eyes glanced around the surrounding woods cautiously. His better judgement urged him to stop, to turn back and go home. Or perhaps it was the fear that was coiling around his chest, but he pressed on.

Leaves crackled under his feet as he glided closer to the cabin, he could feel the hammering of his heart in his temples. The quiet sobs continued, and it was these that drove him closer to the cabin.

“Angela,” his voice shook. “Baby, please answer me.”

A whine echoed into the night as he realized he reached the steps of the cabin and the warped and swollen wood groaned miserably beneath his feet. His eyes darted around the woods again. Somewhere, in the back of his mind he hoped the cops would show up and find him here and call him back from the stairs, return him home and urge him to wait until morning. But, the soft whimpering from within the cabin beckoned him further.

When he reached the door, his flashlight flickered out. He rapped at the casing desperately trying to bring the light back. The darkness of the woods swallowed him. Terror began to settle in his stomach, pushing all other contents into his throat.

“No, no, no, please,” he begged.

In his panic he didn’t notice the door of the cabin slowly opening. He was hammering on the flashlight violently, the light sputtering in and out, desperately hanging on to life. The flashlight jolted back to life. He paused for a moment of relief before turning back to the door.

His reprieve was shortly lived as he turned to see the woman; a Cheshire grin etched across her face. The flashlight clattered to the floor as the man was pulled into the cabin, the door slamming shut behind him and gales of childish laughter echoing through the woods.

+ + + + + +

The mother sprang to life in bed. A terrible feeling sinking in the pit of her stomach, her mind desperately trying to recall her most recent memories. Was it dinner? No, they went to bed after that. She had trouble sleeping, she remembered her husband tossing in bed as well. But there was more, wasn’t there?

She remembered. He woke up. He was getting dressed and she saw him heading out the door. He said he was going to look for her. She looked up towards the door and jumped at what she saw. A small silhouette at the foot of her bed, backlit by the streetlights coming through the window.

“Mommy?” the small voice croaked.

The mother panicked and scrambled for the bedside lamp. Light ignited the room; her eyes took a moment to adjust.

“Angela, sweetheart,” the mother said, still shaken with surprise.

Her daughter came around the bed, eyes down and dazed. She was wearing her school clothes, but they were smattered with dirt and grass stains. Her hair was matted and coated with dried mud and leaves, hanging over her face.

The mother tried to brush her daughter’s hair back, she held her daughter’s face in her hands, but Angela looked away in shame. Her mother snatched her up in her arms and gave her a hug, patting her hair gently, crying with joy.

“Oh, sweetheart,” she sobbed. “Oh, my baby girl, you had us terrified. We were so worried about you.”

“Where’s daddy?” Angela asked softly, her voice still weak and raspy.

The mother pulled her daughter away and looked around. She had forgotten, she was mad at herself for doing so, but she had forgotten all about her husband. She looked around the room for a moment before looking back at Angela.

“He went out to the woods to find you,” the mother said quickly.

“What? No,” Angela cried suddenly. “No, mommy, he can’t go into the woods, it’s dangerous. It’s scary! He can’t be out there. We have to go get him.” Angela turned to pull away from her mother, but her mother caught her arm.

“Sweetie,” the mother said.

“No, mom, please,” Angela struggled.

Angela’s mother pulled her in and held her by the shoulders.

“Angela, listen to me. We are going to find your father, but I need you to calm down, ok?”

Angela’s eyes dropped down again, but she nodded her approval. After a moment, her mother was dressed in the bare necessities to venture outside, a tank top, loose pajama pants, a shawl, and a pair of tattered Ugg boots. Angela and her mother left the house and made their way through the neighborhood as quickly as they could. The early morning fog was thick, and the moisture was sticky.

They approached the school and stopped sharply when they saw the police cars. It was a brief pause, but Angela’s mother hurried over to the cars. Maybe they had seen her husband come by here and could help them look. When she approached the cars, she found them empty. The dull hum of the engines droned gently in the parking lot. Angela’s mother looked around momentarily to see where they might have gone, but there was no one in sight.

“Well, isn’t this just perfect,” she said in an irritated tone.

“Mommy,” Angela said softly. “We have to go; we have to find Daddy.”

The mother stood for another annoyed glance before they continued towards the woods. This time, Angela led the way, practically pulling her mom along. They entered the woods, and the moonlight was quickly choked out. They stumbled through the pitch of the night, the mother pulling her shawl in with one hand as her daughter dragged her on by her other. She could hardly see between the tree cover blocking the moonlight and the dense fog, but her daughter seemed to know where they were going.

Angela stopped as they came to the cabin, her mother hadn’t seen it at first. But when she finally looked up, she saw the flashlight laying on the cabin’s porch and the door sat ajar. She covered her mouth with her hands in fright.

“Mommy,” Angela said cautiously. “Do you think Daddy went inside?”

Her mother glanced around the woods, praying for another answer. The police tape to the right waved in the gentle morning breeze and the emptiness to the left gave no indication that he may have gone that way. Then there was the flashlight. She hated the thought, she fought it, but she knew it was the only logical option.

“I think he did, honey,” she said slowly, her voice shaking with fear.

“Let’s go look for him,” Angela said as she started for the cabin.

“No!” The mother stopped, reacting out of fear. “No, baby. You stay here, I will go look for him, ok? If anything happens to me, you run. You run straight out of the woods and go find the police officers; do you understand?”

After a moment of consideration, Angela nodded her approval yet again. Her mother studied her for a moment, Angela’s eyes on the ground once again. The mother let go of her daughter’s hand and looked back towards the cabin. She saw the flame flickering intensely in the window. Was it that red before? Maybe it was the darkness that made the color seem deeper than it was earlier. And the movement . . . she never remembered the flame dancing so wildly. Perhaps the draft from the open door?

She took a deep breath to gather what confidence she could muster and started toward the cabin. The leaves crunched beneath her feet as she made her way to the porch stairs. She placed her hand on the railing of the stairs, which was slick with moss. The stairs groaned loudly beneath her feet.

She looked back over her shoulder at her daughter, who stood still where she left her; eyes down and her hands hugging her shoulders. She was shivering slightly.

The mother took another breath and turned back to the open door of the cabin. She continued up the stairs to the chorus of the moaning boards. She approached her husband’s flashlight and picked it up. She shined it into the house but couldn’t see much. An old dining table surrounded by chairs, one of them had toppled over, a few support beams, but the dense fog made it hard to see too far into the cabin.

“Roger,” she called softly with a shaking voice.

She heard a creak of the steps behind her and turned quickly. Her daughter stood behind her, eyes still down, her matted hair still hung over her head. The mother hovered the flashlight towards her daughter with one hand, while the other clutched her chest.

“Angela, I told you to wait out in the woods,” the mother started.

Her daughter’s head rose slowly. A wide, terrifying grin plastered on her face. She giggled. Her mother shook her head, but before she could say a word, she was wrenched violently into the cabin. A piercing screech preceded her, followed by Angela’s soft laughter.

+ + + + + +

The morning search crew returned, coffees were being passed around, donuts and Danishes sat on a table, set up along the school’s brick wall. Everyone was gathered waiting for instructions. One of the officers approached the chief.

“We haven’t seen them yet, should we keep waiting or . . . what?”

“No,” the chief replied after some thought. “They’ll catch up. I’m sure they had a rough night; they need the rest.”

He turned to the crowd.

“Alright, everyone, listen up. Same as yesterday, six feet apart and keep your eyes open for anything unusual and report anything you see. Always keep the person to your right and left in your sight. We are looking for Angela Baker and Jim Stewart, both missing since yesterday. Let’s get started.”

The crowd lined up and began their trek into the woods. It wasn’t long before they came across the cabin again, only this time, the crowd nearest the cabin stopped when they noticed the door standing wide open. Their concerned muttering drew the others around in curiosity, but everyone was too terrified to approach the cabin to investigate. The police chief worked his way to the cabin, whispers were echoing through the crowd.

“Was the candle that red, yesterday?” some voices were saying.

“Did that sound like laughter to you?” another said. “Do you think the little girl is in there?”

“Why is the door open?” some gasped.

“What’s the problem, folks,” the chief said.

“Someone thought they heard a child laughing from inside the cabin, and the door of the cabin is open,” one of the officers reported.

“That cabin door has never been open,” one of the locals announced.

“Calm down, everyone,” the chief said. “I’ll go take a look.”

The chief was escorted by two other men as they approached the cabin. The red flame gently swayed in the window. They made their way up the stairs and cautiously approached the open door. The chief pulled out his flashlight and began examining the room beyond the open door. Movement brought his eyes upward and his jaw dropped in shock. Hanging from the rafters were three bodies, gently swaying in the stillness of the cabin.

The chief called for more men to examine the cabin as he turned back toward the crowd. He made his way down the stairs, thinking how best to break the news.

“Uhm, look,” he began unsure. “We have a situation here. We need to break the search off for now.”

“What’s going on?” a rabble of curious, and terrified voice broke out.

“It appears that we,” he broke off uneasily with a clearing of his throat. “We have found the bodies of Jim Stewart and Roger and Julia Baker. They are dead.”

A swarm of concerned rambling broke loose in the crowd. “Cursed” and “haunted” were among the terrified theories.

"What about the girl?" a few voices cried.

The chief's eyes dropped solemnly, but he shook his head. He took a deep breath and ran his fingers through his hair with shaky hands. He looked back to the crowd, terrified eyes watched him intently.

“We need to close this scene off and get this situation under control, so I’d ask that you all go back home, and we will continue the search later. That little girl is still out there somewhere and she is counting on us.”

The crowd lingered a moment longer, still surprised by the news. But eventually they worked their way away from the cabin and back towards the neighborhood. Whispers of the tales and myths of the cabin spread through the crowd uneasily, and somewhere in the distance of the woods, the echoing of a child’s laughter could be heard.