Tale of Horror: The Travers Cabin

The cabin in the woods had been abandoned for years, but one night, a candle burned in the window. The cabin used to be owned by a professor, Eugene Travers. Eugene met an untimely end in 1942. Before his gruesome death, he was well known up and down the southern coast of Maine for his skills in taxidermy and his eccentric behavior. People travelled from all over to have their dearly departed pets preserved by Mr. Travers. He had a gift of making them appear so lifelike that often upon return to their owners they would reel in shock of how lively their pet still looked despite being stiff and cold just weeks before.

In 1942, his plain cabin did not contain much furniture, but it held some of the rarest oddities. The walls adorned in horns of hungarian Racka sheep and Gemsbock. Even though the cabin was one large room it felt separated by the different collections. One corner had rabbits of all types, another had coyotes and foxes. Every corner and shelf contained specimens, some preserved in a yellowish embalming fluid, some just bones.

Mr. Travers led a mysterious quiet life, and mostly stayed in his cabin. All the locals knew about him was he used to be a professor at Boston College until one day he went mad and took a hiatus and now he stuffs animals. He preferred to work late at night when the world was asleep, just like his specimens. Locals in his town would whisper he worshipped the devil and found it off putting that he felt more comfortable around the dead than the living. Before his death he would only emerge for a few sundries, groceries and an occasional trip to the bar.

At the local bar, he would always order the same thing. Two beers and ordered them both at the same time. The barkeep figured he did this to avoid talking any more than necessary. That never stopped the curious bartender Eric from trying to strike up a conversation about the Red Sox or the weather, but he never got more than a grunt or an "Eh" from Mr. Travers.

One night when Mr. Travers was sipping his beer the doors to the Shanty Lounge opened. In walked a woman with black hair that flowed over her shoulders and almost down to her knees. She was wearing a thin white cotton dress and as she walked, he could her the clinking of all of her jewelry. Bracelets stacked on both wrists. He noticed an evil eye pendant around her pale neck. She walked over to his table almost like she was floating. There was something ethereal and soothing about her presence. He was quiet and still taking her in when she asked if she could join him. He quickly nodded yes and she took her seat. When she sat down he noticed a familiar smell. It was a combination of vanilla and formaldehyde.

Eric noticed them sitting together and tried to hear what they were saying. All he could make out was something about meeting in the woods behind the cabin and a whisper about something ancient. He shook his head and continued on with wiping down the counter and decided to stop being nosy and let this odd pair enjoy their conversation. A few minutes later the woman got up and left. Eric found it odd that no goodbyes were said, she simply gave Mr. Travers a knowing nod and stood up and walked out. Not long after Eugene, looked at his watch and noticed it was 9:15, time to go home.

What Eric did not know is this woman offered a deal with Eugene. She told him she could bring animals back to life and to meet her tonight at 12:00 A.M behind his cabin and to bring a specimen.

Eugene had been waiting for this woman his whole life. The reason he loved taxidermy was because he felt like he was bringing the dead back to life. Now he had his chance! He waited until 11:50 to light a candle and put it in the window as his new acquaintance had instructed him to do earlier at the bar. He regretted not getting her name earlier and made a mental note to ask her for it. He spent a moment looking at his collection of dead animals and decided to pick a goat that he had been gifted by a farmer down the road. It was a baby that had died during delivery and the farmer had just left it on Eugene's front steps one day a couple of years back. He remembered feeling empty thinking about the kid who never got a chance at life. Never even took a breath. Born still.

Eugene walked out of the back door of the cabin at 11:58, wondering if his new acquaintance saw the candle beacon and if she was already in the woods. He got his answer when he looked up and saw bellows of smoke coming out of the tree's just a bit ahead. Carrying the baby goat, he followed the smoke to a fire pit he had never seen before just a half mile behind his cabin. He did not see the woman, but he could smell the faint scent of vanilla. There were two wooden chairs facing each other on opposite sides of the roaring fire and also a cut tree stump that he noticed had some odd engravings on it that Eugene could not decipher. Upon closer examination he thought some of the symbols looked like horns and decided it felt right to place the goat on this stump.

He set the baby goat down, he thought briefly about what he might name it if this proposed ritual worked. Before he could come up with a name, he felt a cold wind go down the back of his neck and shivered. Now he was beginning to think this was a bad idea as goosebumps slowly began to raise on his arms. He called out "Hello, are you there? I did what you asked and brought the goat" No answer. Now Eugene began getting anxious. He found the women to be so beautiful and magnetic earlier, he secretly wouldn't have minded if the ritual did not work. He just wanted to be able to take in her presence again.

The fire began to crackle and grow as though someone was fanning it. Now his whole body was covered in goosebumps and the cold felt like ice encompassing him entirely. He started to hear something that sounds like faint singing behind him. Or was it chanting? Now his heart is racing about to thump out of his chest. He has never felt so terrified and so alive at the same time. He was not sure whether he should laugh or run. Almost paralyzed he just stood looking into the fire. All of a sudden, the fire roared and bellowed upward. The flames now over ten feet tall. Before Eugene could even fear the above trees catching on fire, thunder boomed from the sky above and quickly the fire went out as if someone threw water onto it. He composed himself and noticed the goat he had set down on the ancient looking log has disappeared.

When the fire grew tall he lost sight of the goat on the other side. He thought that crazy woman must have stolen it. He felt swindled and embarrassed for falling for her trick. He decided she probably started the fire as a distraction to steal the goat. He was angry and before turning back to his cabin he noticed something in the soot of circular fire pit. More words he couldn't understand. He tried to make out what looked like letters but made no sense to him at all. ITERUM DIABOLUS AMBULAT TERRA.

His brain started to race. What was this message for him? Is it Greek or Latin? He tried to remember his colleague's Latin course he sat in on many times at Boston College. He recognized one word. Diabolus.... The Devil.

Chills ran over him again and he ran back to his cabin. As he was running, he couldn't help but feel like he was being chased. Gasping for air and tripping over tree roots, he makes it back. He sees the candle still lit and some of the indoor lights still on. He shut them off before leaving, hadn't he? Before he can finish that thought he notices he doesn't hear the usual hum of his generator he had installed years ago. He rushes inside and begins furiously looking through a box of old books. He finds what he is looking for quickly and opens the pages of his Latin dictionary. Quickly scribbling down the definitions of the words he found in the soot.

He finishes and looks down at his shaky writing. With a gasp he now realizes what it says. The devil walks the earth again. What had he done? Before he can even make sense of it all a loud thump comes from the front door. He runs over to look outside but sees nothing. Then all of a sudden, a warm liquid begins running down his arm. He sees blood spilling from his palm and rolls up his sleeve to find a symbol carved into his wrist. The thumping grows louder. It is coming from the roof, the walls, the windows. The noise encompasses Mr. Travers and then everything fades to black.

The next day some children from a nearby farm start following a bunny right onto the Travers property. As they get closer one of the young boys' notices there are a lot of mice in the field. They seem to all be running from the cabin. The smell of vanilla and something chemically fills the air. The oldest of the boys dares him to go knock on the door of the cabin. Not wanting to be embarrassed he bravely goes up to the door and as he knocks his fist on the door it opens. As soon as it squeaks open, a stampede of wildlife rushes out as though they have been trapped inside forever.

He notices a putrid smell. He looks up and there on the ceiling, somehow suspended as though he is hovering is Mr. Travers. His eyes nothing but white, his limbs contorted in strange ways, his jaw twisted like he is about to scream or trying to form a sentence. His body is covered in odd shapes and drawings carved into his skin. The boy shrieks in horror and runs out, his friends follow, not sure of what happened in there.

Noone has entered the cabin ever again to this day. The locals still whisper the legend of Mr. Travers and how he summoned Satan that night. They say if you go to the cabin and see the candle lit, the devil himself dwells inside.