Flicker

The cabin in the woods had been abandoned for years, but one night, a candle burned in the window. The match’s kiss upon the tinderbox sparked briefly, as the man-willed flame manifest in the musty air of the derelict cabin. The previously birthed flame of the candle in the window battled the entrenched darkness of the cabin interior, awaiting reinforcement against the assembled gloom. Flickering and dancing gently, tantalized by the whispered wind infiltrating the cracked window panes and skewed frames. At last, the spark saw fit to heed the call to live and took hold of the wick within a second candle. The assembled group, three in all, took the lit candles, using them to ignite two others sitting idle on the fireplace mantle.

The combined glow, finally enough to pierce the omnipresent gloom, a miasma of dust giving tangible form to the neglect of the old cabin. Shadows of the figures playing around the newly illuminated space giving them a comprehensive view of the timely sanctuary. The group dressed in drenched outfits appeared apprehensive upon seeing the decayed state of the room. Wooden floors, patched with various cobbled-together types of timbers and boards coated in moth-eaten rugs of a dusty pedigree. An antiquated couch, a debatably stable table, and a cabinet adorned the room. The vapid dancing shadows shifted to give the dust-coated aspects a pallid complexion. One of the figures, a squat man with a severe visage and a beard that indicated an affinity for solitude shifted his gear and made several aggressive gestures towards the exit. The other two figures, whose features remained obscured by weather gear showed reluctance and exchanged words with the squat man.

As if in response to their apprehension the sky groaned, emitting the tempestuous roar of things elemental. The patter of rain, shifted in tone drowning out the rattling of the cabin's loose components. The door, surprisingly robust compared to the other aspects of the cabin protesting the sudden shift swung open, and in stumbled a fourth figure, shielding their head from the rain, turning and abruptly closing the door against the barrage, sealing it with the multiple locks and bolts available. The weathering of the door though tested and worn held firmly, it had seen its fair share of storms over its service.

The newcomer a large man, of athletic build, was welcomed with warmth and words of relief by the previous three. The bond between them was jovial and spoke of years of friendship. He was covered up to the knees in thick mud and smears of rich earth remained on his arms and coat, despite the deluge attempting to cleanse the area. The group briefly exchanged words, before disrobing their waterlogged exterior wear, setting most to dry while using some of it to plug the gaps in the window sills and other minor openings where the elements continued to infiltrate.

The dancing of the candlelights ceased to all but the most sporadic twitch, having sealed the cabin against nature's onslaught. The group of refugees examined their erstwhile sanctuary for the first time with scrutiny. The decrepit cabin's main entrance and two windows flanking the door on either side comprised the south wall. The north wall, partially constructed of a large stone fireplace, sat virtually undisturbed, below a mantle supporting two candles. The ceiling held aloft by timber trusses, encrusted with the sheen of some form of mildew or moss and wrinkled by age. The candle lights could not reach the apex of the ceiling, but the roof remained resolute as no water found its way through. At least the roof was of reliable vitality. To the east lay two ancillary rooms, or what would have passed for rooms in a previous time. A skewed door frame without an occupant led into a cramped room, where a cot languished. Dressed in a gauche pattern of an antiquated era. Several feet above it a slip of a window punctuated the otherwise drab wall. It was small and clearly intended for ventilation purposes. A rudimentary sink affixed to the wall petrified with calcium. No signs of a generator or any electrical systems to speak off. The other room boasted a flimsy wooden door hiding a storage closet lined with shelves and hooks, in the center a hatchway leading to type of cellar. Already flooded showed no sign of rising further.

The group huddled in the main area, taking in the environment. The table and functional furniture dotted the abandoned landscape. Flashes of lightning punctuated the scene, casting away the darkness sporadically. The smell of burning ozone was detectable among the myriad concoction of odd odors also taking shelter within the cabin. The group huddled together taking stock of supplies and chattering about the situation. Two men and two women in all.

Though the distinction between the woman would be hard-pressed to notice without considerable effort. They shared the same face and features aside from some minor height discrepancy. Twins of some type perhaps. After a brief flurry of words and hand gestures, they appeared to come to a consensus on a stratagem as they unpacked their backpacks and gear. One of the two women began to fiddle with some type of electronic device filling the room with the hiss of static and garbled noise. The two men, bickering mildly about the conditions outside.

The storm outside crackling vigorously in mocking mimicry. Turning the already marshlike woods into an unmitigated mire. The roots of the nearby foliage fought hopelessly to hold onto the soil, as it inexorably turned into night-blackened dough.

The group resigned to waiting out the storm and set about the routine of preparing the cabin for the night ahead. Pushing the cabinet against the main door to reinforce it and clearing away as much dirt and grime as possible to make the area liveable. They intended to only use the main room, heating one room was easier. They had flashlights but opted to use the candles they had found for heat and light. The group exchanged idle chatter as they worked, their spirits rising as they dried out and the tiny domicile attained a degree of comfort.

The storm continued its song of wind and rain, thrashing about as is the right of nature. Free to express itself in a manner the envy of humanity the world over. Unrestrained bordering on malicious and decadent. As the group settled in, they set about doing what people do best when given an excess of time and a limit of options on which to spend it. From their collected belongings the squat man produced a set of cards, while the larger man produced a sizeable glass bottle filled with a brownish spirit derived from meticulously processed grain or fruit. They imbibed and joked, drowning out the drowning world with that of their own making. As the grain spirit lessened, their own spirits rose in equal if not greater measure. The edges of their perception rounded off, taking away the dismal details of their surroundings. They played some games involving kings, queens, and jacks. Followed by some form of mysterious ritual where they would attach a piece of paper to their forehead, and ramble for a time until a name was spoken and they would all erupt in laughter or display some other emotive expulsion.

As the idle hours drifted by, and the distraction of drink and comradery gave way to the idle boredom of entrapment their minds began to transfix on the cabin itself as imagination took hold. One of the women drifted to sleep on the dusty couch. The other occupants continued to pass the time. About ¾ of the bottle later or a couple of hours depending on how one prefers to measure time. The group started to exchange macabre stories and tales of ghosts and witches. Feeling the setting to be highly appropriate for dramatic effect. The shorter of the two women and the squat man thoroughly relished the experience, while the large well-built man pretended good spirits. His body language betrayed him, showing concern dotted with genuine fear. Despite his reluctance, they each took turns exchanging grim stories and fables.

The drab sheets of water continued endlessly outside, the steady rhythm on the roof washing away any sense of passing time. They sat and let their imaginations wander, story after story. They dinned on tins of prepackaged food and trail mix. As they ate, their minds ran rampant with ideas of the strange noises produced by the sieged structure. Groans of old timber under duress, low and resonating. Creaks and tapping of water on stone as somewhere out of sight rain dripped onto something hollow. The glow of the candles took on an ethereal cadence in their alcohol-addled minds. The whispers of the wind outside were more akin to humming as the rain for the first noticeable time abated momentarily. The squat man rose to go and relieve himself in a bucket they had discovered in the off room and designated for such activities. Glancing out the window the man stumbled back with a start. Arms waving and proclaiming something along the lines of movement outside the window. The other two quickly bolted to the nearest window in search of the supposed activity. The only movement was the continued deluge of an angry sky and small rivulets worming through the mud that had once been a pathway to the cabin. The group laughed off the experience, the squat man ashamed at the spook went about finishing his business away from the others then decided it was best to retire for the night. Settling on the ground beside the couch the sleeping woman occupied. Moments later he was deep in the sleep known only to the intoxicated. Upon seeing the serene nature of the others, weariness crept into the form of the shorter woman. She prepared to go to bed nesting beside her almost twin on the couch. She bade the large man rest as well but he declined on the pretense of making sure the candles didn’t start a fire and that the place was secure, insisting he would rest soon, in reality, the stories had unsettled him and anxiety would not allow an easy transition to the land of sleep.

After the others had all taken to dreams the large man remained, perturbed by the storm and the rampaging machinations of his mind. He stealthfully fumbled around his pack finding a small container containing several forms of pungent substances rolled in paper cocoons. It was upon an olfactory investigation of one of these paper-wrapped protuberances the man took notice of the unusual aroma permeating the room.

The smell was a wash of sensations. The sharp tinge of ozone, cutting through the forlorn mix of dust and musk ever-present seeping from the cracks of the derelict structure. There were other more arcane aromas swirling about as well, charring material and something sweet without the saccharine taste of sugar. Cinnamon with the burnt edge of paprika or cardamom, the smell itself sticky but sharp and fleeting. The momentary smell anchoring an aftertaste of salt and the tang of iron on the tongue, clearly defined despite the swamp of flavors roosting in his mouth from the liquor. A quick rinse of the last of his bottled water exorcising the unpleasant melange left in his mouth by the brief sensation mix.

The large man, with a surprising degree of dexterity given his bulk; crept around the cabin silent as a shadow maneuvering to the off room with the venting window. Propping it open gently, and proceeding to light the pungent treasure sticks he had covertly secured. The lighter intended for such a task was less cooperative than anticipated, after several failed attempts it was pocketed, in favor of a new strategy. He skulked out into the main room towards the nearest window where one of the candles rested flickering intermittently. Leaning in plunging the paper-wrapped treat into the flame, it seemed to dance around it as if avoiding the touch before settling upon the dry material. Holding it steady he waited for it to light. Licking his lips in anticipation.

A shriek pierced the night exploding outward from the north wall. A resonating cadence of misery and rage reverberated around the cabins as shrill whistles followed the initial burst. The whistles gave way to strained moans before ebbing to nothing. The sleeping women were startled awake tumbling off the decrepit couch into a panicked heap. The squat man, awoken but dazed struggled to escape the sleeping bag he had nested in.

The large man stumbled back at the noise bracing between the wall and the window ledge and gazed towards the fireplace, where the shriek had exhumed itself.

The group stood, frozen in terror and bewilderment at the sudden sonic violence thrust upon them. The booming roar of thunder shook the cabin, and issued forth, an all-consuming challenge to the forlorn outpost. The wind outside shifted, pressing down hard on the front of the structure.

The taller woman was the first to regain composure, shaking off the shock of the abrupt awakening, better rested than the others and past the predominant effects of the imbibing, went to examine the fireplace and put logic to what had happened. Discovering the chimney almost completely sealed, the chimney flue rusted firmly in place, with a few corroded spots open through the material. Another gust of wind passed through creating a shrill whistle, though lacking the terror-inducing element of its predecessors. The frustrated woman took a handful of materials from a nearby bag and proceeded to plug the holes in a feverish manner. Cursing while she went.

The wind shifted outside once more and then dissipated, rain falling straight down for the first time since the storm's inception. The large man relaxing and coming back to his senses noticed that he had inadvertently held his pungent treasure within the flame the entire time and withdrew it immediately, holding it up to his face to better inspect its state. It had failed to light thankfully, it was then he noticed it was not burnt or even warm for that matter. Looking past it out the window he opened his mouth to scream but no voice would issue forth.

The lightning flashed rapidly, unaccompanied by thunder. The wind dead, absent from the scene. There outside the outline of something massive and vaguely humanoid in the rain. Visible only by the silhouette of where the sheet rain was not present. The existence of an absence. The rapid lightning gouts giving animation to the absences movements, a grotesque stop-frame animation of the badly warped mockery of a person lurching towards the cabin with an unnatural gait.

The large man finally managed to scream something along the lines of monster while pointing frantically toward the window. The squat man and the taller woman immediately went for their bags swiftly retrieving revolvers and taking positions in the windows searching for a target.

Nothing but the relentless downpour was visible in the sparse light outside the cabin. The lightning strikes giving snapshots of the scene absent of any discernable living forms. It was at this point that the group noticed what the large man had been gesturing with, and became immediately dismissive of the claim, although the squat man remained somewhat alert, keeping the revolver by his side and checking the windows and doors again. The group fell to squabbling as the tension eased. The candles flickering inside cast a sickly glow across the assembled group, the large man noticed they had burnt down somewhat though unevenly despite being lit at the same time and the strange aroma had returned. The others soon became aware of the odd odors as its pungence swelled. The short woman and the large man set about determining the source, the squat man warily watched the outside through the windows, as the tall woman fiddled with something inside her pack. Shaking what appeared to be a timepiece and commenting on shoddy craftsmanship these days. The squat man moved the candle from the furthest window onto the mantle in order to better allow his eyes to adjust to the dark beyond the window. Convinced he had seen something move earlier, he was wary of a possible predatory animal.

Outside no animals stirred. The cabin sat alone with its occupants, as an absence slowly circled without a trace, joined by another lack of anything moments later, then another. A crescendo of thunder roared and buffeted the area as the cabin quailed in response.

The floors shook, and the windows rattled. A breeze sprang from some hitherto blocked opening wafting the strange aroma around the main room in a squall disturbing the various layers of dust and disheveling the playing cards left out. Scattering some down between the loose floorboards.

The short woman went down to collect the cards and noticed the sickly sweet smell was rising from below, it had changed as well. The acrid tinge was replaced by the smell of charring wood and cooking fat.

A potent burst of chain lighting outside illuminated the entire area, including the inside of the cabin as the wreak of ozone became overwhelming. The squat man backed away from the window, aghast at what he saw, revolver drawn and aimed. The rain was torrential, and he could see it clear as day, several openings in the rain rushing towards the cabin.

He stammered some sort of command to the others and the taller woman assumed a similar firing posture tracking the other window. The large man withdrew his lighter from his pocket flicking it into life in one fluid motion, the lighter providing no complaints this time. Bolting into the darkened ancillary room to close the window he had opened previously, he found it just as he had left it, and swiftly closed it. A minor detail caught his attention, transfixing his mind for a moment. The lighter in his hand projecting its warmth and light contacted the light in the main room, and what he could only describe as an oily film existed where the candlelight and the lighters glow meshed. His feet already had their commands and he was returning to the main room as the strange occurrence had little time to set into his racing mind. It then became apparent the light they had been in was a strange sickly yellow, an oily swirl of reds and brown mixed in as well. They had not noticed before for lack of comparison.

The tall woman and the squat man began yelling as something moved past the window and impacted the door with a sloppy thud. The door rattled and pressed in its frame jiggling the cabinet that had been placed behind it for reinforcement against the storm. A figure or lack of one appeared in the greasy reflection of candlelight on the leftmost window, as the tall woman fired two shots into the dead center of the things that was not there. The sound deafening, but fleeting in the confined space. A shriek similar to that heard before was heard through the ruptures in the window pane, followed by the sound of hissing steam as the light in the room seemed to bleed out in a vortex through the holes in the window before returning to normal. The light of the candle on the window flanking the other side of the door sputtering and flickering wildly, illumination ebbing, as the silhouette filled the space beyond it. The squat man wasting no time, poured three rounds into the thing beyond the window, as he advanced forward preparing to unload the remainder of his arsenal. The first two shots passed cleanly through the window into whatever lay beyond, a sickening crunch the reward of marksmanship, the third round went low colliding with the candle exploding it into a torrent of wax and shards before continuing on its path out of the cabin. The little flame extinguished casting the corner into complete darkness. As the squat man took another stride forward into the waiting darkness. The sound of the calamity and shots sucked out of the room into the wounded storm beyond. A moment of serene calmness was disturbed by the creaking of splintering wood, and the reverberations of what sounded like laughter echoing out of the cabin walls. The floor gave way as the squat man plunged into the flooded miasma of water in the cellar below. Swallowed up in an instant. The poignant stench erupted into the room as the man disappeared into the brackish fluids. The short woman screamed and grabbed the revolver dropped by the squat man as he fell.

The tall man lunged down to grab the squat man through the opening to no avail, feeling the fleeting touch of his hand before disappearing under the hungry darkness below. The rooms remaining candles were unable to pierce the gloom, and he saw no sign of the man. Shuffling quickly to the pack beside him for an electric flashlight as the two women stood above him covering the doors and windows, guns at the ready, adrenaline pumping. The electric light sprung into action sending its illumination as directed into the chasm below. The large man scanned frantically for his friend, the surface of the water barely rippling only the slightest sign of movement but it was enough and he plunged his arm down into the ripple but retracted empty-handed. The water clung to his arm, viscous, thick, and warm, very warm almost scalding the water remaining on his hand solidifying as sluffing away in globs that tinkled upon contact with the floor. The sounds of the storm muffled as the sickly sweet smell rose from below, and the scent of ozone manifested from above.

A shift in the position of the door as it bumped against the cabinet barrier with force took the attention of the trio as the cabinet wobbled back tipping away from the door before crashing backward splitting into mishappen wooden chunks. The clatter and subsequent tinnitus of several more rounds filled the room as bullet holes peppered the door. The sound of baying animals, birds one would guess had birds the ability to bay that is, mixed with crunching glass overcame the storm followed by a heavy impact outside several feet away. The short woman reloaded her weapon, as the large man tossed more ammo to her, before returning to puzzle at the sudden disappearance of the squat man. What was fluid moments ago was a solidified mass, emanating a ferocious heat. The iron tang and cinnamon smell rose into the room in waves. A sickly sucking sound, hissing, and the pop of air bubbles could be heard as the window glass melted dripping down the seal the holes they bore.

The entire building seemed to sway and distort, the sound of twisting metal and pained wood adding to the din. The sweet aroma rising from below mixed with the flickering shades cast by the candlelight spawning obscene spectrums of colors manifested in the dust particles and other pollutants mingling around the room. Grim visages of laughing gaunt faces glimpsed phasing in and out among the shifting patterns. The large man, backing out into the ancillary room without a door, trying to put distance between himself and the aberrant images. The short woman began firing at western walls, where some of the clusters appeared to be congealing into some grotesque mockery of a human form. Firing without concern a shot narrowly missed the taller woman by inches, before embedding itself in the dust-crafted face of what could best be described as the fungoid face of an elderly man, appearing to grow as a cyst from within the wall. It dispersed in a spray of color and fluid that stunk of aged licorice.

The tall woman decided at that moment staying was tantamount to suicide, and swept up the closest pack to her, gesturing for the others to follow, she lunged for the door. The large man remained bewildered on the edge of the room and the short woman lost to mad panic continued the ballistic barrage, the revolver barking in her hands. The tall woman reached the door, grasping the handle to find it came off in her hand, melted and stringy as she pulled it away. The metal knob the fluid consistency of hot wax. She reeled back, swiftly gathering her wits before taking her gun and putting a round into each of the deadbolts securing the door. Putting her head down and shoulder checking into the semi-solid form she burst through and ran into the stormy night, leaping over the slumped form of the lack of something piled out front of the cabin. The storm clouds gave a throaty chuckle, rain pouring down as the tall woman staggered off into the brackish hellscape of the woods.

Inside the cabin, the hammer of the revolver pounded but no follow-up answered. Ammunition spent the short woman, stood holding the glorified paperweight as her mind struggled to process the abnormality occurring. She started laughing uncontrollably as the strange colors and shapes faded to the previous dim glow of the candles and the sound of the storm outside returned, the front doors form distorted and solidified in a half-melted state separating the cabin from the outside world. The large man, shook the short woman bruskly until some semblance of agency returned to her and she awoke from the maddened reverie playing out in her mind.

The rain slowed to a casual rhythm as a measure of calm descended onto the cabin. The large man tried to move the warped door to no avail, the front windows likewise sealed and solid. The slit window remained pliable, but he could not fit through. The short woman being exceptionally lithe could. After a brief deliberation, it was decided she would take their backpacks phones, and radios out and try to contact help. She armed herself with one of the survival knives, and the electric flashlight and readied for the journey, the storm was a dismal prospect but in comparison to what she had just experienced, it seemed the lesser of evils. The large man hoisted the short woman up and out of the window, slipping from his hands into the hands of fate. She sped off into the night. The storm remained passive restraining itself to a moderate drizzle.

Inside the cabin sat the large man. Slumped beside the fireplace. Trapped inside the decrepit prison, that was supposed to be a sanctuary. The unusually aromatic cigarette perched on his bottom lip like a lazy seagull on a buoy at sea. He watched the candles slowly burn away, the flames dancing in unison to some unseen wind, the air in the room undisturbed. The three candles burning unevenly, sweating great globes of greasy wax, the smell of burning tallow occupying the air. The sweet scent of earlier absent, replaced by the smell of decaying materials, moisture, and neglect. He took his thumb and jammed it into the flame of the closest candle, it lacked any sense of warmth, unlike the cabin that had been steadily growing hotter as time had passed. It was imperceptible at first but was drawing sweat from the skin with shameless abandon now. He feared he would die of dehydration despite the abundance of fresh water just out of reach. Playing with the heatless flame, he tried to snuff it, but it danced and evaded every attempt. The candles continued to burn irregularly as time passed. The tallest candle burning brightly but not melting, its neighbor's skinnier appearance was dwindling slowly and the stocky candle he had made a habit of harassing was reducing at an exceptional rate. Suddenly the light of the slim candle snuffed out, a thunderclap outside, the stench of pure ozone expelled from the candle as it dried and reduced to a chalky powder. Casting the room one shade closer to uniform darkness, the reduction in light counterbalanced by the increase in heat.

The man began to tremble and sweat profusely, wiping sweat from his brow, clearing his matted hair only to feel the drip of more from above. But it wasn’t his sweat, the ceiling was dripping. Drip drop,drip drop, it was raining inside. The roof must have finally given way, much to the man's delight parched for clean water as he was. He opened his mouth to catch the drops, they landed upon his tongue, thick, greasy, and salty. He spat, grabbing the stubby candle, rising to his full height and jutting the candle as high as his form would allow, stretching the candle's light as far as it could reach towards the ceiling. As if obliging the request both the remaining candles glowed brighter with a malevolent sheen. Unveiling two forms hanging down attached by the feet to the ceiling.

The desiccated forms of the squat man and the short woman, human stalactites. Black glassy eyes, limbs contorted and pinned to their sides. The heat intensified as a ripple of reality and colorless flame washed over the figures scouring flesh, muscle, and fat leaving only char-blackened skeletons. The melted materials flowed downward on some unseen current into the candleholder's empty sockets, twisting into elegant perfect candles.

A mournful scream was felt not heard, as the skeletons scattered into ash descending onto the room. The large man fell to his knees covered in the ashes. The world around him melted and bubbled, the colorless flames creeping over his form. Taking his lighter, he lit his funny cigarette and took one deep relieving drag, as the stocky candle beside sputtered out.