Swept Away

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

It flickered, tantalizing passersby, hikers who had wandered off path at dusk. A light crackle of footsteps disturbed the still falling night. An owl swept from a nearby tree drawn to the break of noise searching for prey, its talons outstretched and hungry, eager to grasp and rip at a small and helpless creature - but missed, its hunt averted for the discovery of the three hapless hikers who were, we now see, already deeply ensnared in a trap of a different nature. A swooping owl in some circles is considered a bad omen, a sure sign of something amiss, off. A chill blustered through the clearing of trees giving way to an unsightly scene of decrepit, dilapidated, broken down equipment, overgrown by grass, tangled in dead and rotting vine, spider webs and stinking undergrowth. It was a small cabin which time had forgotten, and seemed to have suddenly manifested, blinked back into existence as though bobbing from a low point in a rushing current, the undertow having briefly weakened enough for it to rise, peeking, slightly, ever so shyly, peeling back the veil.

September 26, 1951

"Frank, darling, after you finish the door, can we get started on the kitchen? I'd very much like to have a place to fix you a proper supper to reward you for a job well done," Sarah cooed over the radio broadcast. "Yes, right after I finish up the outhouse because good golly having a proper place to do our business is a right necessity".

Sarah, a 23 year old teacher had served in the war as a nurse, and had seen more of the world than her small town mind ever craved for. Frank, 24, also had been rudely torn from his comfortable hometown just south of Madison, Wisconsin for what other purpose than to murder other unfortunate young men at the behest of God and country. Neither young person was light in spirit, both racked with dark thoughts, memories and pain they buried within themselves. Return to normalcy in postwar America simply was not possible for them so they retreated, to the deep woods where they could create for themselves a new reality, one constructed entirely by their own imaginations, untouched, uncontaminated by the ills of society and the brokenness they were determined to extricate from a fantasy future. They imagined a romantic solitude, a life dreamed by the likes of Samuel Clemens, Herman Melville. The spiritual escape the pure wilderness offered did not just lure the Walshes, it transfixed them. When they purchased the 17 acres of land, it had been attached to 12 acres of farmland, and an old set of stables, half ruined by a fire caused by a year of drought. The land could be rehabilitated, but not the structures. They decided to build a small, humble cabin in a clearing at a highspot in elevation on the very edge of the property line, looking out over the sprawling national forest, a neighbor which reminded them they were not so unplugged from society as politely coexisting with it. Chequamegon-Nicolet National Forest had been formed to employ men suffering the devastating effects of the Great Depression in 1933, a massive, incomprehensible 1.5 million acres of dense but beautiful forest with lakes and rushing rivers, where hunters and wayward souls could truly get lost in the crushing embrace of nature.

October 9, 1951

The cabin was almost done when a group of hunters, spit out by the forest, stumbled upon it. Hungry, tired, they crossed the path, climbing a steep embankment, until they reached a level area, large rocks falling under their feet. A cabin, they'd seen the light from below and my what a sight. Civilization so they thought. Frank and Sarah had settled in bed, but startled awake to the gruff sound of hoarse voices. Without hesitation, Frank grabbed in the dark for his rifle, hanging above the bed as was customary and hushed Sarah. "Stay here. You know what to do". She shook her head aggressively and gestured to the door. Frank turned, his training clicking into place. A soldier stood ready, his back against the door, peering out the window, ready for a fight.

"Hello, is anyone there? We don't want to be a bother to ya, just need some water and if you can help us see through the night, we will depart in the direction of town at daybreak."

Frank stayed silent, assessing the threat, pivoting his position at the door.

"Look, we won't do you any harm, god's honest truth". The other men chuckled at this. "Why yes," the second offered, "choir boys".

One of the three friends leaned against an axe set in a tree stump to the right of the cabin. He struggled to release it from the wood. When he did a loud crack released into the night. Birds and nearby wildlife scattered in a small explosion of activity, unsettled by the intrusion.

Frank stiffened up. We readied the rifle, cracked the door and hollered, "I don't want any trouble now, and I ain't afraid of a scuffle. Now you may rest where you're at. We have a well just north of the house where you can get water for yourselves".

"Now sir" scoffed the third man, "that's a poor way of treating some lost folks."

"Uninvited folks who woke me in the night. Now look, I won't stop you from getting what you need but ask politely you respect me on my own land."

At this, four men laughed. The fourth laughed the loudest.

June 12, 2014

Cheryl and James had been dating for 3 years, a century to a 21 year old couple who decided on a hiking trip on a whim, on a random Thursday ahead of a long holiday weekend. They brought with them their 7 month old baby, Gideon. James was short by modern standards, 5'5", with dark hair loaded down with hiking equipment, holding sticks with a giant water tank strapped to his sack. Cheryl however was underdressed for the brisk weather and was relieved to see some shelter. "James, the candle. I mean, there have to be people in there, right? Have to be. It's real quiet though and people don't sleep with candles burning, do they? It's kind of creepy, no?"

"Sure, I don't know. Am I supposed to know what's normal out here?"

Crash, something fell inside or near the cabin. Cheryl grabbed James by the arm, whispering under her breath, "stay back. This doesn't feel right." James shrugged her off. "It's ok, I will peek in the window and knock on the door. You stay back here". With no weapons on him but a small utility knife, James approached the precipice and rapped lightly on the door. The baby started crying so Cheryl placed him under her shirt for a feeding.

"Hello, I am so sorry to disturb you. My girl and I, we, uh, we got turned around real good up here. We're inexperienced hikers just need a place to pass through for the night".

October 9, 1951

The fourth man's boisterous laugh cut through the night, as his knife cut through the second man's throat choking his vocal chords, blood spattering as he slipped into the shadows.

The first and third men leapt back, the crumpled body of their friend at their feet. "What the hell just happened. TONY!" Grabbing him under his arms, Chuck, could see clearly the damage that had been done. It was a clean kill by a sharp weapon. "Oh my god, holy shit, Arnie, Tony. Who is there?" Chuck stood up tall, now brandishing his hunting knife and cocking his rifle one handed, peering into the darkness. "Sir, this ain't no fucking joke now, somebody just killed my brother. We were in the war together. Who is out here with you? Who did this?"

Frank stayed silent, back still pressed to the door. "Look, I told you this isn't the place for you. I don't want harm to come to nobody and need you to get off this land."

"What part of we need help don't you understand?" Arnie and Chuck cocked their weapons advancing on the cabin in unison.

June 12, 2014

James checked his cell phone for a signal. "Nope still nothing. I think we're on the edge of the forest though. This looks like a private cabin. In pretty bad shape. And no one is answering. Whoever lit that candle isn't here. Place doesn't look habitable. Strange." "Well, did you check to see if it's unlocked?"

"No, Cheryl." He reached for the handle, shimmied it a bit and the door popped open, slowly creaking on the rusty hinges. The movement blew the candle out. It was jet black inside. Cheryl lifted her flashlight and shrugged as James appeared in terror. "Calm down. It's just an old cabin." "Sure that's what they all say. Are we the idiots in the campfire story? Like are we going to regret this?" A rat scampered through the door rushing out into the night eager to escape the must and mildew. "This place stinks. I don't want to sleep here with the baby even if it's empty. Let's stay outside." "Ok then."

James stepped back from the door. It slammed as he did as though a wind gust had taken it off the hinges. Cheryl let out a blood curdling scream.

October 9, 1951

"I am not your guy. I can't save you. Couldn't save anybody not in the war not now."

"Oh so you're one of those huh? Can't cut it at home, a shut in? Buddy this isn't right somebody just killed our friend. Are you in on this?"

"No".

"Just no? You better step outside at the count of three or we unload our guns on your cabin. You got a wife and child in there?"

"No, no, just me."

"You sure about that? Because I would hate to hurt em. You know, we weren't so weak in the war. You do your job and do it good, some rewards come from that. You make this difficult there are no promises we treat them right if you get my drift."

Sarah huddled in the corner, finding the crawl space, pushing a panel out of the way and rolled backward onto soft leaves outside. She stood up and carefully removed her shoes, climbing the small hill behind the property and up to a tree limb that hung over the cabin, cocking her rifle overhead of the men. She pulled the trigger. The shot rang out. Arnie flew back grasping his chest. Chuck jumped, ran to his side. "What the fuck, what the fuck. Who's picking us off. Who is there." Chuck glanced up seeing Sarah in the tree, hanging low above him. She pulled the trigger again. He flew back. The bullet grazed his shoulder but he knew to remain still until he could gain sight and an advantage on his assailant. The fourth nameless man climbed the tree behind Sarah, grasped her around the shoulders and in one motion, slit her neck, laughing as he did. Chuck didn't move. He made eye contact with the ghoulish figure, dark and barely discernible. James opened the door and stepped outside pointing his gun into the darkness. Chuck grabbed his ankle and the gun met his face. "I'm sorry but there's another man out here. Your wife." He pointed up, as her body tumbled from the tree onto the cabin roof and rolled, blood spewing on the ground in a loud thump.

James tugged at the door handle screaming, "Cheryl?". Silence. He broke the glass, the candle fell dripping hot wax to the ground. He climbed in the window. A chuckle broke out, low at first then louder. "Who is there?"

June 13, 2014

"The well, you need water". The voice croaked. "Where's Cheryl, Gid?". "Go to the well", it responded. A small door popped open behind the bed, and James crawled through. He climbed atop the small hill and could see in the faint distance, a well. When we reached it he glanced down. Complete and utter darkness. A humming started. Birds fluttered in the trees. An owl hooting and ominously staring, its piercing eyes fixed on James. "CHERYL!" He screamed.

Suddenly a dozen hooded figures emerged from the woods humming. One laughing. Sarah lowered her hood. She pointed a hunting knife in James' face.

October 9, 1951

Chuck begged, "Please stop, we need to work together. Someone's out here."

"I know". Three hooded figures swept Chuck away as he screamed.

Frank brushed off his shirt, straightened his back, clicked his heels, whistled and got to work, clearing the bodies. He dragged the largest and heaviest, Tony, up the hill first, then Chuck, then Arnie who was still barely alive. He tossed them all in the well. His wife Sarah laid on leaves next to the cabin, he lifted her and got to work using her medical supplies to stitch her neck back together. She was gone he knew, but he sat her on the bed nonetheless then headed back to the well, where the others had gathered.

"So three more tonight alone", one whispered in a hush. How long until we earn it? How many lives?" "There is no number. We fulfill the prophecy and offer these spirits. Patience."

June 13, 2014

A baby cried. She pulled back her hood and there stood Sarah over James' body. "Another sacrifice." She smiled, calm and content. The Prophet took the baby from her arms, and held the baby over the well. The night swallowed the scene as the hooded figures disappeared into the darkness. Small campfires raged across the park, tiny enclaves of civilization, ordered paradises scattered in chaos.

The well whistled as wind broke through the trees. Deep at the bottom more than a hundred mangled corpses, disfigured, cannibalized, struck with fear, eyes and mouths agape.

Stolen, lost souls, seeking an escape, and swept away in darkness.