Slow Burn

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

The woman swept her fingertips gently across the flame, feeling nothing. Disappointment tugged at the corners of her mouth, but she remained silent. The man gently took her unharmed hand in his and led her away from the window. She could not feel the warmth of his skin.

They took their places, two gnarled, wooden chairs in the back of the one room dwelling. The man had carved the chairs himself as a wedding gift to his bride.

"Til death do us part."

Silently, they watched and waited, like two quiet spiders. The slight woman in her mothbitten dress, yards of stiff cotton fabric the color of tea stains, tiny cream colored buckled heels at her feet. The tall, thin man in his mildewed suspenders, dark dress shirt and pants, and matching leather shoes: their wedding garments.

There were few belongings in the room, only what they'd brought with them that first night. A smattering of tin pressed family photos hung on the walls. Absent were any photos of children. Their union had produced none.

It was a slow burn. They didn't know how long the candle would last, but perhaps infinitely. It had been a century, after all. Still, they conserved and only lit the candle when they began to feel their own light extinguish.

Some hours passed, their hands joined between the chairs. Sometimes the man would stop and rub her fingers between his palm in an attempt to warm them. But no warmth came.

Then, finally, a small "tap" on the window.

The man and woman looked into each other's eyes, deep pools of hunger, love, and grief. This was the hard part.

"I'll do it this time."

He said that every time and he was always true to his word. She knew he felt responsible for their affliction. After all, he had built this cabin, this home, this prison.

Tap..tap,tap...tap...

Little pebbles bouncing off the window. This was how it always started. It wouldn't be long before the children would dare each other to inch closer...perhaps even push against the unlatched door.

Minutes flew by as the couple held their breath in ancient lungs. Two large, curious eyes appeared in the window. The flame danced warm, slow, and peaceful, inviting him inside. The couple kept their positions, deep in the shadows, willing eager, trembling muscles to be still. Their hearts kept slow time.

Thump...thump...thump...

The door to the one room cabin inched open. One doe eye and half a boy's smooth cheek appeared in the slit of of the doorway, round flesh like a ripe peach. A young boy.

If he saw the man and woman, if he happened to glimpse their gaping mauls, the way the candlelight glimpsed off row after row of razor edged teeth, the way the jaw swung open unhinged like a snake, the way they scurried on all fours across the floor, their eyes rolling and ravenous...if he saw any of that, it made no difference. The cabin gave no chance to escape.

An unearthly wind forced the boy inside, slammed the door behind him, and extinguished the candle in one swift motion. He stumbled, but never hit the floor. The man's strong, cold hands made sure of it.

When the frenzied feeding was over, the man held the woman in his arms as she wept tears of relief and shame. She could feel his warmth again and the cold of the still form that lay on the floor at their feet, what was left of it.

The man put one hand against the wall of the cabin. It warmed to his touch. Blood, sweat, and tears, he'd poured into these walls...what else? A selfish desire to be together, forever.

Later, they put the child with the others and placed the candle in a box. There was barely a drop of wax burned away. Forever is a slow burn