Old Gran's Cabin

The cabin in the woods had been abandoned for years, but one night, a candle burned in the window. That inviting glow illuminates the forest surrounding old Gran's cabin every six years in midsummer. But no one dares to venture closer to see who lights it or blows it out. No one from around here, that is…

For generations, this cabin and the surrounding land had been cared for by Gran's family. Over a century ago, Gran's great-great-great-grandmother had marched into the wilderness, staked a claim to the land, and built the cabin. Ever since, someone has been around to protect it from wandering hikers, wild animals, developers, and the like. Most older generations took this responsibility very seriously - living here off-grid through all seasons, almost as though the duty was sacred. The younger generations preferred to live in the city - even Gran's husband and children had left the cabin to pursue careers and modern lifestyles. But Gran stayed. As her children got older, they visited from time to time with their new families, but eventually, they stopped, finding it more convenient to mail care packages to abate their guilt. Gran continued to write letters to everyone, even when no one replied, always urging them to visit or, better yet, move in.

In Gran's final few years, the only one to visit was Chris, Gran's only daughter's son. He noticed that she was becoming more eccentric and seemed nervous about living on her own. One day, he suggested that she let go of the responsibility and move closer to her family so they could care for her. Chris was alarmed by how strongly she reacted against this suggestion. With all her strength, she yelled and ranted that she could never leave land unattended and that the cabin could not be empty for an indefinite period. He was so disturbed by her response that he let months pass before visiting again.

By his next visit, she seemed to have aged by years. She was so old and frail that it seemed impossible that she was still collecting her own water and foraging to supplement the supplies he brought her. Her spirits were down, and she admitted to him that her end was near. She begged him to return the next day and never leave. By the time he arrived the following afternoon, she had passed, alone in her cabin, her candles from the night before burned down to the base. He found her in the old rocking chair by the window with a little brown leather-bound notebook in her hands. Her cold, thin fingers were jammed between the back cover and the book's final page, marking where her final thoughts had been captured. She had been scribbling notes in that book for as long as Chris could remember. By his mother's accounts, for as long as she could remember, too. So, Gran was buried with her little book on the hillside overlooking the property with her predecessors.

In her will, Gran left her land and cabin to her now-adult grandchildren: Maria, Gran's favourite son's only child; Tom and Janet, Gran's eldest son's kids; and of course, Chris. Gran's only stipulations were that they do not sell, build on, or renovate the land and that they spend one week together at her cabin every summer on the anniversary of her death. Her children were outraged that they had been skipped over. Still, after seeing the stipulations, they seemed almost relieved that the burden hadn't fallen to them from their "weird mother," as they not-so-fondly dubbed her.

So, every year in early July, they gathered at her cabin. They had a tradition of doing some of Gran's favourite things over the week - swimming in the creek, hiking through the woods, archery in the beautiful clearing behind the cabin, and, of course, a big bonfire on the final night of their trip. They also spent a few days tending to repairs and checking on the fence surrounding the property's wooded acres.

Although in decades past, the cabin had been home to the large families of Gran's predecessors, Maria, Tom, Janet, and Chris had grown accustomed to their own spaces. Their individual habits and lifestyles clashed in such a small space. On the 5th-anniversary trip, they reached their breaking point. They decided to build new cottages for Tom, Janet, and Maria, leaving Chris in the original cabin. The following summer, they arrived a few weeks early to build the three new cottages. As they worked, they ran into problem after problem. The concrete they poured for the cabin's base cracked down the middle. The generator-powered tools ran them out of fuel after a week. The unseasonable rain kept seeping through their tarps, soaking their wood and turning the area into thick, sticky mud.

After weeks of work, they had the shell of a tiny cottage to show for their work. Maria and Janet had resorted to sleeping in tents around the construction site. Tom had resigned to the fact that he'd be sharing the main cabin with Chris again next year. Problem after problem left them all frustrated. When Gran's anniversary rolled around, Chris begged them to stop working and honour her wishes for the last few days of the trip. Exhausted, they covered up the work in plastic and agreed to return to work on the cabin after they'd had a few days of rest.

The next day, they decided to start with Gran's favourite hobby - archery- and then hike up the hill in the evening to watch the stars come out. With all of Gran's old gear, they set up the target in the clearing for a friendly competition. Almost every year, Maria won. They joked she'd inherited the talent for archery from their Gran. This year was no different. She was on track to beat the others with her score well ahead. As she collected her final bullseye arrow, an arrow whizzed past her face and through her left arm. She shrieked with pain. Tom and Chris sprinted over to her, leaving Janet standing at the edge of the trees with a look of shock on her face, holding the bow. Crying and bleeding, Chris and Tom carried Maria back to the cabin and patched her arm with Gran's old first aid kit. Luckily the arrow had only grazed her. Realizing Janet was not with them, Tom ran back to the clearing and found her sitting against a tree, sobbing into her hands, and mumbling that she could've killed Maria. Janet explained she had no idea what had happened. She didn't even remember picking up the arrow. Tom knew she would never hurt Maria on purpose and reassured her the others knew this was an accident. He walked her back to the cabin to calm down and explain to the others.

The sombre mood in the cabin matched the weather as the clouds rolled back in and the rain returned. They all agreed to sleep in the cabin that night, as the rain was too heavy for the tents to be comfortable and to stay close in case Maria needed help. The candlelight cast eerie shadows over their faces as they sat in silence before retreating to sleep.

The following day, the sky was clear, and the air was warming up quickly. Maria, feeling much improved, suggested they go to the creek to enjoy their last day of relaxation. As a show of forgiveness, Maria opted to walk ahead with Janet to their favourite creek spot. Chris and Tom stayed back to pack up some lunch and towels and talked about the strangeness of yesterday's accident. Tom couldn't understand how his normally-careful sister had made such a mistake. When Tom and Chris arrived at the creek, Janet was knee-deep in the creek's clear mountain water, and Maria was sitting on a rock enjoying the tree-dappled sunlight. They spent the late morning and early afternoon relaxing as though the mess of the construction project and yesterday's accident had not happened. As the sun dipped down behind the trees and darkened the creek, they decided it was time to dry off and return for dinner. As Maria climbed out, she slipped, submerging herself in the cold water. Chris jumped in and grabbed her as the water around her turned red. Her bandage, now soaking wet, was twisted and red. They climbed up onto the rocks and removed the sopping gauze. The gash seemed to have grown. It was bleeding, but the blood seemed thick and slow. Still feeling guilty for her mistake, Janet said she'd pick up all their stuff and asked Tom to ensure Maria would be okay. Leaving Janet behind, the three walked back to the cabin to tend Maria's wound.

As she finished collecting their towels and picnic leftovers, Janet heard a slow rustling behind her. She spun around and saw a figure moving between the trees, head down and sluggish.

She yelled, “Hey, who's there?”

It moved quickly towards her.

“It's just me!”, a voice whispered back.

She squinted as she stepped back into the sunlight and saw Chris looking back, concerned. He asked if she was okay and explained he'd dropped his lighter somewhere and that they needed it for the bonfire tonight. Janet shrugged and looked through the big picnic bag to no avail. They slowly walked back to the cabin, eyes on the ground, looking for the lighter.

When they arrived, Tom and Maria were nowhere to be found. Janet looked around and saw a stack of wood beside the gravel pit down the path from the cabin. Concluding Tom and Maria had gone out to find wood for the bonfire, Chris and Janet began preparing dinner. Shortly after, Maria came back saying she was tired of collecting wood. She lay down on the couch for a nap before dinner.

As the light began to fade and the food got cold, Janet's anxiety grew until she couldn't wait for Tom to return. She got up and told Chris to watch Maria, who was still asleep. Janet headed into the woods and called out for Tom. She walked, then ran, shouting and panicking until she saw the bonfire light glowing and casting shadows through the forest.

Maria suddenly woke from her restless sleep in a cold sweat, alone. The dark of the night had set in – she wasn't sure how long she'd been asleep. The dinner was still on the table, cold as ice. She saw the big bonfire through the window and squinted at the bright glare. She stumbled down the cabin's steps onto the uneven path, still groggy from her feverish sleep. Her arm was searing, and her head was pounding. As she lurched down the dark path, lit only by the slivers of blazing light through the trees, she saw a small figure dart from the woods towards the fire pit.

Janet ran to the fire, still calling for Tom. She jogged around the crackling pyre of flame. Out of the corner of her eye, a movement caught her attention. She turned to see Tom standing beside the pile of cut wood. He was smiling at her. He looked as though he'd been laughing as she ran herself into a frenzy looking for him. He reached his arms out to hug her. She stepped forward with relief and felt his tall body lean into her.

Leaning, leaning – falling backwards. Janet screamed as Tom released his grip on her, and she fell into the flames. The pyre was so enormous that it barely shifted as her petite body sank into it, writhing in agony. The gut-wrenching cries reverberated through Tom's head. He retracted his blackened hands, the hair scorched off, and his skin red and blistered.

Maria was jolted into alertness when she heard a shrill scream. She ran towards the pit to see Chris calmly sitting by the fire.

"Where's Janet? And Tom?" Maria asked, gasping for breath.

Chris looked up slowly and mumbled, "What happened to you?"

Confused, she looked down. Her shirt was soaked in red and black slime. She touched her arm. The gash had deepened and was oozing blood. The heat from the fire made the skin on her face feel tight. She reached up and touched her face – red and black flakes dried by the heat, caked onto her hands. She looked up to Chris for help, but he was gone.

Clutching the growing gash in her arm, bewildered and scared, she wobbled around the bonfire. She tripped on something and looked down. Janet's shoe. The rubber soles were melted. The tip for the shoe poked out of the fire, attached to a charred, blackened body. Frozen in shock and unable to breathe, she inched away from her cousin's scorched body and backed into the wood pile. Fear ignited in her. She started to run away down the path towards the car, but as she rounded the woodpile, she found Tom face down in the mud. She shook his shoulder and yelled his name, but he didn't respond. She rolled him onto his back and saw that he was covered in the same red, black slime, but it was oozing from massive gouges in his torso and face. His body looked like he'd been ravaged by an animal, but they were fenced in – no animals were on the property. It dawned on her. Her chest swelled with terror, and her mouth dried. The feverish nightmare, the slime caked onto her face and clothes…

Yes…

A rasping voice echoed in her head.

She sobbed as she fell to her knees beside Tom's mangled corpse.

She collapsed onto her side, clutching her arm as she wept. Her weak muscles let go of her arm as she crumpled onto her back. The blood rushed out of her, and the light dimmed.

As her eyes closed, she heard the voice laughing and snarling. I'm glad I missed your pretty little head...

Weeks later, when none of them had returned home, their parents called the police to investigate. They found the bodies of Janet, Tom, and Maria strewn around the fire pit after their night of suffering, but they never found Chris, so he was blamed for it all. Unable to set foot on the property after this tragedy, Old Gran's children sold the land to a developer to build townhouses the following spring. The developers started by tearing down the half-built cabin. Finding the foundation cracked beyond repair, they ripped that out, too.

Along with it, they found Chris. His body was skinned but otherwise remarkably intact. He was clutching a notebook - his bloody fingers marking the last page, where they found, written in blood, "The curse calls to me. I can never leave, and now you can never stay". Tragedy after tragedy befell the developers until they gave up and left the land in peace.

To this day, that cabin still stands, untouched and dark, until Old Gran's candle glows to call someone in to stay.

So, if you wander into the woods this summer, don't linger.