Revelations of the Non-Luminous Veil

The cabin in the woods had been abandoned for years, but one night, a candle burned in the window. And then the candle went out. The cabin in the woods had been abandoned for years, but one night, a candle burned in the window. And then the candle went out. The cabin in the woods had been abandoned for years, but one night, a candle burned in the window. And then the candle went out. The cabin in the woods had been abandoned for years, but one night, a candle burned in the window. And then the candle moved.

This unfortunate turn of events took the old man by surprise. Every year, he had come on some long forgotten anniversary and every year ‘twas the same. He would watch the cabin in the clearing in the woods. It was surrounded by large, tangled thickets on all sides. No one but him knew it was there. The surrounding thickets were an oppression of brambles and branches that would pull his hair and cut his face and skin. Yet he was drawn to that place every year. And every year it was the same. The cabin in the woods had been abandoned for years, but each year he returned, a candle burned in the window. And then the candle would go out.

But now it moved.

The candle light flickered in streams through the spaces between the logs that made up the walls. Each passing flicker of light carried a creak of a floor board. Each creak carried each flicker of light closer to the old door on the old front porch.

The scream rent the oppressive silence of the woods. The old man thought his heart would stop.

And then the candle went out.

The cabin in the woods had been abandoned for years, but one night, a candle burned in the window. And then the candle moved. The candle light flickered in streams through the spaces between the logs that made up the walls. Each passing flicker of light carried a creak of a floor board. Each creak carried each flicker of light closer to the old door.

And then the creak of the door filled the woods with a sickly sound as it flew open. The old man’s heart thumped in his chest. And the candle light grew brighter.

Year after year on some anniversary that was long forgotten he had came to watch that candle. Always from the edge of the thicket. And now he seemed to make out the silhouette of something bearing the candle towards him at an ungodly speed. He froze in terror. The candle came closer and closer. And brighter and brighter. He opened his mouth to scream but he had no breath to make a sound. A scream rent the woods from seam to seam. And then the candle went out.

When the old man came to, it was dark and he was in a bed. Not his bed. The vague feeling of impending doom. Oh, how oppressive did it loom?! At first, the room seemed… new. And then… it seemed… familiar. As if one were seeing the other side of a mirror. It was dark. There was barely enough light to make out some vague shadows. He fell from the bed with a thud onto a cold, wooden floor. He fumbled around and grabbed something made of wood. He felt his way up what must have been the leg of a table and then he saw a candle. Next to the candle was a match. He struck the match on a box… and lit the candle.

A breeze made him shiver. The candle went out.

The old man awoke with a start in a bed. But not his bed. The vague feeling of impending doom not so vague. More oppressive than before. At first, the room seemed… new. And then familiar. Like the other side of a mirror. He rolled over and stopped. He knew he would fall on a cold, wooden floor.

His feet met a cold, wooden floor. He fumbled about until he felt the edge of a familiar table. He noticed a candle on the table with some matches nearby. He fumbled with the matches until he grasped one in his shaking hands. The match broke against its box. The next one too. The third one was a charm. He lit the candle. But the candle went out.

The old man awoke in a sweat. He didn’t even need to fumble about this time. He hopped off the strangely familiarly unfamiliar bed and walked across the cold, wooden floor and struck a match and lit the candle and picked up the candle. He moved his arm in a slow arc. The candle illuminated the room as it moved.

It wasn’t anything particularly spectacular. Just an old wooden room, like it belonged in an old cabin. There was a single window that looked out onto some woods and a doorway with no door. He walked to the doorway and was confronted with a long hall way, the end of which he couldn’t quite make out. He took a step into the hallway. The floor board creaked. And the next one creaked. And the next. He noticed some pictures on the wall. Some very old pictures they were, photographs of a time long ago. As he took in each photograph, words were conjured in his mind as if by magic though he didn't know why.

There was a picture of an old woman, and he thought, mother. There was a picture of an old man and he thought father. There was a picture of a beautiful woman and he thought, wife. Then a picture of a child. A little girl. And he thought… sadness. There was a little boy. And he thought son. There was a picture of a middle aged man with an older son and older wife, though wife’s beauty increased with her age he thought. The middle aged man made him feel uneasy but no word sprang to mind.

And then there was a picture of an old man with a beard. And the thought occurred to him about the same time he noticed that the old man lay in a coffin.

Me.

His scream rent the woods surrounding the cabin. And the candle went out.

He woke in a sea of sweat and fear like he’d never felt before. He leapt from not his bed. His feet planted firmly on the cold, wooden floor. He lit the candle like he’d lit it a million times before. He turned to the hallway. He stopped. He attempted to steady his shaking hand against his thigh. He looked at each picture again. His mother. His father. His wife. His daughter. His son. His family. And me. Something akin to realization flooded his mind and his pupils took over his eyes. He slowly backed away from the picture frame. He spun on his heels.

The front door. He burst through the front door and ran as fast as he could. He seemed to chase the edge of the candle light. A figure loomed hidden on the edge of the thicket. His madness had taken hold and he bore down on the figure as though his feet carried him where they desired. As he came up on the figure in the thicket, his sanity melted away just as he beheld his bloodied face.

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