Followed

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

“Someone lives there now?” my little girl asked, her raven curls bouncing as she pointed excitedly. No one has lived there for years. My daughter and I pass by the dilapidated cabin often, since it was on the way to the end of the road where her bus picks her up for preschool. It has always been dark, and no one has been in there. At least, not since we have been living where we are now. But there was indeed a candle glowing in one of its broken windows. The candle was tall and yellow, and it had the brightest orange flame.

“No Raven. Probably just some kids in there,” I reply. I was trying to not make it into a big deal, but I couldn’t help but stare at the candle too. For some reason, I didn’t want to look away. As I stared, I swore I saw something pass by the window frame. But when I blinked, there was nothing there.

“Mommy! There is a man! A stick man!” My daughter said shrilly. She was pointing to the same window that had the candle. But there was no man there. There was nothing but the candle, now flickering with the summer wind.

“There is no one there. Let's go home,” I said, gently pushing her along. The rest of the way home, she wouldn’t quiet down about the stick man she saw, and how he had waved at her. She was so excited that someone waved to her. I got her home, took her little backpack, and set her up for supper, leaving her to watch TV and color. Right when the sun began to set, I heard our front door open. Our place was small, just big enough for us. It had a tiny living room, small kitchen, one bathroom and two bedrooms, all on the same floor. Some people would want bigger homes, but we were happy here. It also made it easier to hear things happening around the house. Like the front door opening when we were not expecting anyone.

I made my way towards the front door from the kitchen, wondering if someone was trying to get our attention. But instead I found my little girl standing with the front door wide open, and she was looking up with a happy smile on her face.

“Of course you can come in, stick man! We like friends! Right, Mommy?” My little girl Raven said, now beaming up at me. Raven has had imaginary friends before. Just two weeks ago, she had been telling me about her pink unicorn with cat legs named Cherry that she would chase butterflies with. I encouraged her imaginary friends, just like my parents did with me. I was able to be an artist because of how vivid my imagination is, and because my parents allowed me to be imaginative. But it was odd. Raven has never opened the front door for any imaginary friends before.

“We love friends. But next time, let Mommy know before you open the front door. We don’t want things other than friends coming in the house,” I said, feeling more at ease.

“Kay! Come in, stick man!” Raven shrieked happily. She opened the door a little wider, and a breeze came through the door. It was a cold wind, chillier than it should have been for summer, and it was strong enough to flip one of the corners up on my little welcome mat in my house. Raven then shut the door and looked up, absolutely beaming.

“Aren’t you gonna say hi, Mommy?” Raven said, now skipping towards the living room. I chuckled a bit before heading back to the kitchen to finish dinner.

“You know I can’t see your friends. You are the one with the magic eye to see them. But hello to the stick man all the same,” I yelled from the kitchen. I heard my little girl squeal with delight and she began talking to herself. Or rather, to this new friend she was imagining. I sat her down for dinner and set a plate for her new friend. She always likes me to set a plate for any imaginary friend she has. And since I didn’t have to clean the dish off afterwards, I didn’t mind. Then I had her brush her teeth and get ready for bed, also getting myself ready too. I wouldn’t go to sleep right away like my daughter would, but she and I both liked getting ready for bed at the same time. We were really close, and liked to do what I could to make sure she didn’t feel alone. She didn’t make many friends at preschool, probably because of her wild imagination. As I tucked my daughter into her bed, she reached out to me.

“Mommy, can I have a candle?”

“A candle? What for?” I asked. I like candles, but normally she didn’t care about them.

“Stick man wants a candle. He likes to see them glow,” Raven answered, pointing to a corner of her room. My daughter had her bed set in the middle of the room, with the headboard resting against the window. On one side of her room was her closet and dresser, on the other side was her desk, bookshelf and sitting area. She was pointing to the sitting corner, which is where this stick man apparently stood.

“Okay, but if I light it, it can’t stay lit all night. I will have to blow it out before too long,” I said, already getting up to head to the hall closet. That is where I kept my stash of candles. I grabbed a small pink one, this one was supposed to smell like roses. Then I came back with the candle and lighter in hand.

“Where do you want it?” I asked my daughter, who was already sleepily rubbing her eyes. She paused before she responded, as if she was listening to someone talk.

“He likes it at the window,” She answered, now getting under the covers.

“Okay... but seriously, if it’s going to be above your bed, I'm going to blow it out in like, an hour. I don’t want you to accidentally hit it off the windowsill,” I warned. I lit the wick of the small candle and put it on the windowsill. The light of the candle danced as I moved it, the fire a cheery yellow glow.

“Okay Mommy, thank you,” Raven replied. I wished her goodnight, and closed her door, leaving it open only a crack so that I could hear her if anything happened. I went back down the hall, setting myself down in the living room to watch TV and to do some drawing. Tonight, I spent about a half hour sketching what I thought the sick man would look like. In all of my drawings, he looked like a scarecrow with a smiley face or like a small ent-like creature with a smile showing on the bark. All of the drawers were cutesy and looked very cartoonish. I knew my daughter had an odd imagination, like Cherry cat-corn. But she never really imagined anything too dark or horrifying. She did like spiders though, which made for some horrifying (to me) imaginative friends.

After a while, I set down my sketchbook and headed back to my daughter's room to blow out the candle. When I walked in, I saw that the flame on the wick was very tall, much taller than what I would have expected from a candle that size. But as I watched it, the flame lowered, going back to a normal size. I approached it and gently blew it out, careful not to wake Raven. When the flame went out, the floorboards by the foot of the bed creaked. I glanced at the foot of the bed, wondering why the floor creaked. When I saw nothing there, I shrugged, tucked the blankets around my daughter again, and started to head to bed.

* * *

A couple of weeks passed, and all I heard my daughter talk about was the stick man. Preschool had ended for the season, and since I did my work from home, I was able to witness all of the odd things she did with this stick man. Lately, my house has been making lots of noises, creaking and groaning that I didn’t hear before. I also found cabinets open more often, as well as things lying around on the floor that shouldn't be there. The cabinets and the things on the floor I attributed to my daughter. She had a habit of climbing things to open cabinets, but she had never been this forgetful before. I felt like I was reminding her every day. Plus, she was a small child, so it was normal to find things on the floor. She would happily pick things up, but she told me it was the stick man that moved things, including the cabinets. As for the creaking in the house, I hoped it was the house sinking. We lived in a field by the woods, and it became very muddy when it rained. I just hoped that I didn’t have to worry about the foundation or anything.

Raven also now slept with a candle every night now. She told me it made the stick figure happy. But she also told me that the stick man didn’t like it when I blew the candle out. I told her that it was too bad, but we had to. We couldn’t let it burn all night long. The last couple of nights, Raven said that the stick man could keep the candle burning all night. But so far, whenever I blew out the candle, it stayed out.

Today was different. Today I found Raven playing behind the house, and she had a candle with her. This candle was also lit. When I did find her, she didn’t look like her cheerful self, and seemed a bit upset. As I looked at the house, I saw burn marks up the side of the building

“Raven, what are you doing outside with that candle?” I snapped, concerned to see her playing with fire. She has never done this before.

“Stick man wanted to see more fire. I told him no, but he dropped a candle here. I picked it up, so everything should be okay,” Raven said, now blowing the candle out. If the candle had dropped from the window, wouldn’t it have gone out already?

“Okay.... well I know you know better than to play with fire. And since I know you know better, your friend should also know better. Because they are guests in our house and they need to listen to you. Right?” I said sternly, taking the candle from her, “You are not to play with any more candles. I do not want to see you carrying, moving them, or bringing them out of the house, do you understand?”

“Right Mommy,” Raven said, now looking up at an area next to the house. She didn’t sound too sure of her response.

“So we are not going to be playing with candles anymore then?” I asked, taking her hand and leading her back to the house.

“No more candles. Except the one at night,” Raven replied, skipping through the front door.

I followed, “No more candles at night either. Just to be sure. I’m not happy to find you playing with fire, Raven.” Right when I said that, the front door slammed shut behind me, startling me so bad I fell into the wall next to me. I turned and stared at the door. What the hell had that been? It was wide open, and there was no wind.

“Stick man needs his candle,” Raven said, so quietly I barely heard her.

“What was that honey?” I asked quickly, trying to catch my breath. My heart felt like it was going to pound out of my throat.

“Stick man needs his candle, or he will get angry. He always had his candle in the cabin” Raven said, louder this time. She was looking at the ground. She wasn’t acting like she normally did. I did not like how this imaginary friend was changing her.

“Is the stick man from the old cabin?” I asked. Raven nodded, still not looking at me.

“Yeah. He only ever leaves to make a friend. But he always needs his candle,” Raven described, now wandering into the living room.

“That's great for him. But I do want you to know that if he needs his candle, then he needs to go to his cabin for it. No more candles here. You got it?” I said. I was recovering from the shock of the door slamming shut.

“Yes Mommy,” Raven responded. She was now sitting on the couch, frowning at one corner of the room. I breathed a deep sigh, and then went back to my art for the job I had. She wasn’t normally a bad kid, and she understood right from wrong way better than some other kids her age.This was why I indulged her fantasies so much. I just hoped this wasn’t going to be a continuous problem.

That night, I had her sleep in her room without the candle. She put up quite the fuss about it, saying the stick man would be angry. I told her to ignore him, he was a guest in our house. This was punishment for playing with fire outside. I thought she had gotten the message. But not even an hour after I put her to bed, I heard movement in the hall. I frowned, and got up from my spot in the living room, peering around the corner. The hallway’s closet was left open. I scoffed and briskly walked to my daughter's room, now getting angry. What was with this imaginary friend of hers? When I went in, I came to an abrupt halt. A larger candle of mine was lit, and the flame on it was twice the height of the candle, brightly lighting up the room with yellow and orange flame. But that was not what brought me to a halt. What stopped me was a large shadow of a very thin figure that was cast in the wall by my daughter, but the eyes where eyes should be were brighter than the light of the candle. I opened my mouth to scream. But no sound came out. I took a step toward my daughter to protect her and blinked - and the shadow was gone. I blinked a few more times, still feeling a lump of fear in my throat. The height of the candle was still unusually high, but there were no shadows of men on the walls. I turned to look at my daughter and saw that she was sitting up in her bed, rubbing her eyes.

“Stick man needed his candle,” she said wearily. I didn't understand what she meant. But I did feel a steely resolve take over me. This imaginary friend of hers was now starting to affect my sanity. I needed this to come to a stop.

“Raven, I told you already, no candles tonight. That does not mean that you can go into the closet and get one. That means no,” I stated.

“But Mommy-” Raven started.

“No means no, Raven,” I cut her off. I blew out the candle, and snatched it from the windowsill. When I did, there was a gust of wind from one corner of my daughter's room, and I heard what I thought was a moan. My daughter squeaked, and drew the covers up to her chin.

“Stick man needs his candle,” she whispered, fear now filling her voice. She then turned her head to stare at me, and she looked afraid. “He will get his candle.” I stared at her, and she looked wide-eyed. To be honest, I was afraid, just like she was. I have never seen an imaginary friend like this, and it was so real to her, it was almost becoming real to me.

“Then he needs to leave. He has been a guest in our house for too long. Why don’t you tell stick man goodbye, and you can sleep with me tonight,” I said, grabbing my daughter from her bed. Raven hugged me tight and cleared her throat.

“You heard my Mommy,” Raven said over my shoulder, “Go back to your cabin.”

“Good girl,” I said. I got to my bedroom, and set her on my bed, pulling the covers over her and kissing her forehead.

“Mommy,” she suddenly said, looking out past my bedroom.

“Yes, Honey?” I asked, now getting into bed with her.

“He won't leave,” Raven whispered and pointed. I looked out past my bedroom door and saw that there was a yellow candle sitting on the floor of the hallway. As I watched the candle, it lit on its own, and the light began casting shadows on the walls. The flame drew higher and higher, the light burning brighter. I couldn’t look away, and I couldn’t figure out why. Then I saw it. It was a black shadow behind the flame of the candle. Only it wasn’t just a shadow. It was a man, a literally man of large sticks, towering in the hallway. Each of the sticks seemed like they were burned together to make the shape of the man, the bark gnarled and charred looking. The arms and legs were bent branches with lines of fire forming up to the joints. There was no face, but there were eyes, eyes that burned like large circular suns. Those eyes of fire and charred wood stared at us past the flame of the candle. As I watched, his large, charred head made a cracking noise and it shuddered, moving so that the head was now crooked to the side. I backed away at the sudden noise, and grabbed my daughter, horrified at what I saw. My daughter hugged me tight, and looked up at me, mirroring my fear.

“He needs his candle, Mommy. He doesn’t like when a candle isn’t burning.”