The Cabin in the Woods

The cabin in the woods had been abandoned for years, but one night, a candle burned in the window. Though I had heard talk of a small unoccupied hut deep in the forest, I never saw it. I chalked it up to an urban legend. I always stuck to the path, never dwelling any deeper than that. I used to run here everyday. Everyday 4 Pm without fail. Grief took that. Grief took a lot and changed a lot. The thing I’ve learned about grief, in my recent, very serious relationship with it, is that grief doesn’t operate on a schedule that is easy to follow. Unlike the path I had grown accustomed to running everyday, knowing every turn to round and branch to jump, grief likes to keep you guessing. The first few weeks are a dark and empty void of depression. It will be all consuming, nearly life ending. You will feel nothing but unrelenting mental and physical anguish. Then maybe if you’re lucky a sliver of light may break through and you might get out of bed or get out of the house. Soon you may find yourself enjoying things again, life may begin to feel whole. Until, completely out of nowhere you feel it. The darkness creeps back in, the pain starts to tickle your mind and body. You’re reminded of whatever brought you to the doorstep of grief, and you begin to sink. The darkness and loneliness are still the only places where you can be with what or who you lost. It’s scary there, but it’s where they are. For a time. The length of time that the love you have lost resides there, is up to grief. Grief decides everything you do, everything you feel, even everything you say. You wander around a ghost of happiness, anger and isolation shield you from any ray of joy that may try to break through. You’re back in the place where nothing lives, except painful memories and sorrow. Your suffocating in your own grief but it’s where you feel close to what’s been lost, you can feel and hear them. Grief tricks you into thinking this is where you belong, but grief is wrong. After a time, you begin to see the facade. You look in the mirror and it’s not a monster you’re fighting everyday, it’s you. You’re holding the key to the shackles of torment. You’re the one letting grief decide you. What you love is not really there, and you can see the bars of the prison grief has built for you, and you know you must escape. You begin to accept what has been lost is gone and that remembering them will be painful but nothing is as painful as loving them in darkness. You can’t do that to their memory, waste the love you have for them and they for you. You bring your love and memories, painful and beautiful, into the light to be seen as they should. Losing someone or something and feeling the pain of their absence is the part of life you can’t prepare for. It never gets easier and it never stops. Grief will always be somewhere in the back of your mind and it may scratch at your brain with its black, needle-like finger nail. You may sink back into it occasionally, feeling the air violently ripped from your lungs, by those dirty old fingers, but you can climb out again. You can stitch the torn pieces back together, every time adding a scar to remind you of the pain you’ve endured. These reminders of survival build up over time, providing a roadmap to guide you through the next journey into the cold and ghastly forest of grief.

Out here in the woods, alone, hours before sunset, breathing the thick, crisp autumn air, is where I can feel the most whole. My reality is far enough away to provide a small measure of peace. The sound of my own feet touching the earth with every step, and the wind whistling through the trees are the only voices I need to hear. No one checking in to see if I’ve disappeared into a black hole of despair, asking me how I feel. No, here I can be free to think and feel what I need to, without question. Out here I can feel the hurt and not sink. Hearing my feet stomp into the dirt and leaves grounded me and my thoughts. This is the space I needed to stretch out my feelings. This is my happiest place. Out here it is just me and the trees.

The sun is beginning to set, its lovely rays glimmering on the dewy leaves. I pump my arms, keeping an even rhythm with my feet. My breathing is controlled in four counts, two breaths in, one two, two breaths out, one two. This control and consistency keep me calm, In the winter I can watch my breath go in and out, purposeful white puffs of calm. Watching them helps visualize my focus. I can unload my day and most painful thoughts without feeling heavy afterward. I can set it all free out here and never look back. The evening is cold, but I love it. I don’t wear a jacket just a t-shirt. I don’t need one, running in the cold makes me feel more awake and energized. I run faster and harder, to keep myself warm. Every crisp inhale feels like a cool reminder that I am safe with my own thoughts. I need this to keep myself sane and to remember that even if I am alone, I am safe in my own loneliness. Out here nothing can…

“Whoa.”

I leapt at the last minute to avoid a large rock.

“Ugh.”

I Smack into a tree tumbling down a small hill and fall face first onto the cold forest floor.

“Uhnn”

My head is spinning, I can’t focus my vision. My head is throbbing.

“Shit”

I push myself up onto my knees, looking around confused. Unexpectedly I am overcome with intense nausea, I curl over and…

“Blech.”

Damn, did I hit my head? I fall onto my backside, fighting back the urge to vomit again. I try to calmly take a few deeps breaths. As I calm myself I look around, the path is not insight. Did I fall that far? I slowly lift myself up onto my knees, pressing my hand onto my forehead, examining it for blood. I’m not bleeding, there is however a swelling, pulsating lump, so if I did hit my head at least I wasn’t loosing blood. Dizzily, and with a deep breath, I stand, my legs shaking. I’m feeling slightly delirious and faint. I glance around the woods, and reorient myself to find the path. I pull my phone from the pocket of my leggings. The screen illuminates.

“Shit.”

There is no signal. I start to walk toward the direction I think the path might be in, holding my phone up to try get a signal. I wander, to find the path and a signal. This is fruitless. Where the hell could the path be, I didn’t lose consciousness. Did I? I check my phone again the time was 6:46 pm, I didn’t lose consciousness. Though if I did it would explain the confusion and vomit. Even if I did lose consciousness and fallen that far off the path, it had to be close. I wander, stumbling slightly before I fall to my hands and knees, my phone slid in front of me.

“Okay…”

I sit back, holding my head between my knees, trying my best to remember the breathing exercise my therapist taught me. Inhale 1…2…3…4… and hold 1…2…3…4…Exhale 1…2…3…4. I focus on the puffs of cloudy, cold air that billow around my feet like fog. I close my eyes, and focus my breathing, and slow my heart rate. I raise my head gently, my eyes open with a deep breath in. At first I wasn’t sure what I was seeing. I squeeze my eyes closed tightly, and delicately shake my head as if to wipe my mind. I open my eyes again, and sure enough it is there. A small, dilapidated cabin. It has a rickety old front porch and a tin roof. There is a small window, with cracked glass, next to a damaged front door, that appeared to be permanently ajar.

“Huh.”

So it’s not just a legend. It’s probably just an old hunting…

“What the…?”

A candle flickered to life in the small window. How could this be, no one could possibly live there?

“Okay…”

I lean forward and pick up my phone wiping the screen on my leggings and hoist myself onto my feet. I check over both shoulders, I can’t shake the feeling that despite the state of this decaying shack, someone is there. Against my better judgement I step toward the cabin.

“Hello?”

Oh yeah this is a great idea, Obviously someone is there, candles don’t just light on their own, but why are they here, what are they doing? I keep walking, cautiously.

“I just need some help. I fell and hit my head.”

Sure let them know you’re vulnerable.

“I need help getting back to the path, or maybe if you have a phone.”

I hold my useless phone up slightly. Oh yeah they have a phone, look where we are, and sure tell them you’re lost. I stop just in front of the small porch, and wait to hear a response, and I’m struck by a strange smell. Wet dirt? Maybe wet metal? It hadn’t rained that I’m aware of. I step onto the porch. The aged wood, creaking loudly underneath my feet. Oh wow this is a great idea.

“I’m sorry to bother you, I just need some help.”

I peak around the door, to get a glimpse through the small opening.

“Hello?”

I reach out to the door and start to push it open gently.

“I’m sorry to bother you, but I…”

The door stops short, opening only halfway. I push a little harder, something is stuck behind the door. I should take my chances in the woods. This is the sign to turn around. I peer inside the room, the candlelight has cast a dim orange glow onto most of the tiny space. From what I can see there is only one room and no furniture. I force my eyes into a squint, to try and see more. A shadow moves into the dark part of the room.

“Hello.”

I squeeze through the small opening.

“Ugh!”

I cry out as I push myself into the cabin, A stray nail from the disintegrating door, rips through my leggings, tearing deep into my muscle. My phone flies out of my hand and slides behind the door. I fall onto the floor of the cabin, gripping at my thigh. I can see the blood pouring out of the wound. The light of the candle filtering the blood into a deep brown color.

“Ah!”

I press my hands firmly over the abrasion, to keep my blood from escaping too quickly. The pain is excruciating. Like a white hot iron melting through my flesh.

“Shit, shit.”

I exam the room, and try to calm my breathing, most of it is cloaked in the orange light of the candles flame, except for the far corner of the room. The only signs of life are the candle and a couple of suspicious looking spiderwebs, it is completely empty. The air is thicker in this tiny hut. The clouds of my breath hang in the air for a few moments longer than outside. Sounds are slightly muffled, almost like being under water. As my breathing quiets, I can hear a faint dripping. The drip echoes into the small room. My phone, I have a flashlight on my phone. I grope at my pocket, quickly aware that my phone slid behind the door.

“Fuck.”

My eyes scan the rest of the cabin, squinting into the dark corner, it was strange, though the cabin is small the corner seemed to expand.

Drip.

The darkness pulling back deeper beyond the structure of the cabin, pulling me toward it, into the darkness.

Another drip.

The pain and blood loss are making me dizzy. I remember the door is blocked. I check the door, spotting the villainous rouge nail, The source of the dripping. My blood pools into a small puddle, and I follow a trail of it to my feet, it’s a lot. I look up from my feet, through my cloudy breath, and behind the door…

…the bottom of a running shoe sticks out from the darkness.

“H…hello?”

I feel a heavy wave of panic wash over me. I need to stand, I need to get out of here. It’s just a shoe. I quickly pull my t-shirt off and wrapping it around my thigh. I wince, pulling the shirt tighter, to stop the bleeding. Instantly I become aware of the intense cold, my sports bra being the only thing covering my upper body. I feel the cold air ripple through my body, my skin crawling. Stand up. Get your phone and walk out that door. I took a deep breath, bracing for the pain, and clumsily pull myself onto my feet.

“Ahh!”

Bending my knee, stretching the skin on my thigh. I feel the wound tearing open further, getting deeper. I use every ounce of strength I have left to stand upright.

“Ugh!"

I wobble, my injured leg buckling from the pain unable to bear much weight.

“Ugh, okay I can do this.”

I limp closer to the door, already exhausted, but I swing my injured leg along and keep limping closer to the door. Every step was agony, my legs feel heavier with every step. I reach the door, accidentally kicking the shoe. It isn’t just a shoe, it felt heavier. There is a foot in that shoe, and maybe a person connected to that foot. I grip the door knob, holding myself up, the clouds of my exhausted breathing gathering around me like steam. I stare into the darkness, preparing for the worst.

“Shit.”

I take a long deep breath, pushing a huge puff of air, into the black void. I turn slowly, dreading what lies behind the door. I position myself so I can close the door, and steady my balance. I try not to picture what condition this person would be in as I close the door, slowly. It creaks loudly with every inch I close it. The candle light behind me illuminates more and more, first the other foot, then the legs and then the torso. It was a woman. Her upper body is soaked in blood, which had begun to pool around her. One hand is laid on her stomach, her knuckles and fingers cut up and bloodied. I push the door almost completely closed, leaving only a sliver of the outside peeking in. My shadow darkens too much of her face, to make it out clearly. I get closer. Some of her hair is stretched across her face, glued down by thick smears of blood, obscuring her face. I try to glance around her body to find my phone, careful to avoid seeing too much more.

“Damn.”

There it is, tucked gently at her side. I stare down at her motionless body, afraid to get too close. Scratches and bruises run up and down her other arm, which is laid, stretched out away from her body.

Death and loss breed sorrow and darkness, and here I am faced with it, again. I stare at her, silently thinking about the person who will have to try and survive the grief her loss will bring. I know I hardly could. I finally clawed my way out again, and now I can feel it. Scratching at the back of my neck, trying to pull me under, back into the black hole of depression.

“No.”

I shake off the thoughts. I won’t let it happen. Not here. Not now.

I can do this.

Bend down.

Pick up the phone.

And leave.

I draw in a deep, icy breath and start reaching for the phone. It feels like reaching into a frozen lake. My fingers and arm stinging as I reach deeper into the dark. I don’t want to look at her face as I get closer, but I do.

“No! No! No!”

I stumble back against the door, slamming it closed, crying out, and shaking my head.

This is not real.

I am not here.

She is not…

I hear a creak from the dark corner of the room. I fall silent, paralyzed by fear.

There is someone here.

I watch the corner, completely still. A pair of running shoes step into the candlelight. I slowly turn, my back to the door. My heart rate skips faster as the legs appear.

I lift my foot, and take a step backwards to the door.

My heart is throbbing in my ears, when the chest appears.

I take another step back, trying to hold my breath.

My throat tightens, and finally…

Me.

I see me.

This is not real.

I am dreaming.

I hit my head.

I am unconscious in a hospital.

Before I could rationalize further she ran toward, slamming me hard into the door, hands clasping tightly around my throat. I gasp and choke, clawing at her hands.

I look into her eyes, they are mine, but they are lifeless. She is me, but she is wrong. She looks sick and pale. Her lips curling as she squeezes tighter.

I can feel my life ending, a few moments longer and I will die.

I would just die.

No. No. Fight back. I need to live.

I slam my forearms down onto hers, her grip releases. She stumbles back, falling onto the floor. I cough violently, collapsing onto my hands and knees, trying to force the air back into my lungs.

“Aagh!”

She scrambles onto her hands and knees and crawls toward me wild, like a rabid animal, hellbent on destroying the life before her. I shuffle back, my hand hitting something solid. It’s a rock. I grab it spinning around just as she jumps on top of me trying to choke me again. I struggle to fend her off with one hand. I push her face away, holding her at bay as I slam the rock into the side of her skull.

It crunches as it makes contact.

Her expression goes blank before she falls slumping on top of me.

“Ahh!”

I cry and panic pushing her lifeless body off of mine, I crawl backwards on my hands, hyperventilating, wheezing wildly. My hand slides out from under me, my back slamming into the floor. I gulp, the air violently knocked out of my lungs. I lay still, searching desperately for air to breath. Slowly the air creeps back into my body. I cry, gasping and chocking. I cover my face and mouth with my hands, and scream into them as loud as I can.

That’s when I smell something.

Wet dirt maybe?

I pull my hands from my face.

Metal?

My eyes adjust to the dim light.

Iron.

My hands are slick.

Blood.

I look over to the body next to me.

She is me.

And she is dead.

Her blood is on my hands.

“No!!”

I scream, trying to scramble to my feet, slipping in her…my blood, ignoring the searing pain in my leg. I pull myself up and run to the door, she…I am there. Dead on the floor, blocking the door. I tip toe around her, the floor creaking loudly under my feet.

“We don’t get to leave.”

She clutches at my ankle, yanking me to the floor.

“Let go, let go, let go.”

I hear our voices echo together, blending into one.

I kick violently with my free leg, smashing into her…my face.

Her grip loosens and I free my leg.

I hurriedly pull myself up onto my feet. Tearing the door open.

I run through the doorway, and off of the collapsing porch.

“We…”

She screams after me.

“Don’t…”

I hear her running after me.

“Get…”

I don’t look back.

“To leave…”

I run without thinking of anything except getting away.

I just run.

I run and cry.

I run as the sun sets and the only light is the moon

I run until the crying stops.

I crumble to the ground. I’m in the dark again.

This is too much. I have to be hallucinating. They aren’t me. This is a dream.

I see my hands, painted in blood. This is not a dream. I ball them into fists pulling my knees tightly to my chest, and squeezing my arms around them, my hands tucked out of view.

“I’m okay. I’m okay. I’m okay.”

I rock gently, reassuring myself, trying to calm down. I close my eyes softly.

I listen to the sounds of the forest. The trees rustling the wind. A loon in the distance.

I take a deep breath. I smell the earthy scent of decaying leaves in the crisp autumn air.

I slowly open my eyes. I see the vibrant orange and yellow leaves on the ground and the brilliant moon peeking though the trees, shining on me like a spot light.

I look all around me, everything seems normal. Everything is as it should be. Just ahead I see something familiar.

The path.

I smile, and chuckle, picking myself up and start running toward it. I’m excited and relieved. There it is. My way out. As I reach the path I remember what I…she said.

We don’t get to leave.

We. Us. Her and I and the dead girl. All three of us together. Why? Why me? Why then? Who are they? How did they get here? How are there more of me?

I start on the path with the moon behind me, heading out of the forest and back to the rest of the world.

I slow to a jog, to conserve what little energy I have left.

I take a mental note of how I feel.

My wound is still painful but, has stopped stinging.

My head is sore, but has stopped throbbing.

My throat is tender, but I can still swallow.

I seem to be in okay shape considering everything I have just been through. Considering I either just stumbled upon my long lost siblings, or clones?

I chase the thought away, and focus my thoughts on escaping the forests.

“I’m okay.”

I smile when I say it this time.

“I’m…

I trip, slamming face first into the earth.

“Umph.”

Not again. I sit up and brush off the dirt and leaves. I try to reorient myself, shaking my head softly.

I look behind me to the path.

It is gone again. I jump to my feet.

“No! No! No!”

I run to where the path should have been. I’ll find it. Just keep running. I run desperately, beginning to panic. I was so close, this can’t be happening again.

I run hysterically, without direction.

I exhaust myself to the point of collapse.

I stop, running my hands in my hair, gasping ferociously. I stand spinning around and stop when I see it.

There it is. In the distance but visible.

“No.”

I cry. Defeated.

There it is, the cabin that had been abandoned for years.

The cabin I found.

The cabin filled with death and anger.

My death.

My anger.

I step closer. I realize this is not the same cabin. The cabin is made of brick. It isn’t dilapidated, or crumbling, there is not candle, instead a chimney puffing out thick smoke. The porch isn’t cracked and neither is the window. This cabin is larger, well maintained. This cabin looks warm and inviting.

Someone lives here.

I get closer, my pace picking up. Maybe they have a phone

The door is slightly ajar, and a warm glow of light floods out. I hear the fireplace crackle.

I step onto the porch, apprehensive.

“Hello?”

I call out hoping to hear a pleasant voice.

Nothing.

I reach for the door and push it open. It swings open, no problem, nothing or no one blocking it.

“I’m sorry to bother you, but I’ve been attacked.”

I start into the cabin.

“I need help.”

Just as I step inside the cabin I’m struck in the side of my head.

As I begin to lose consciousness, falling backwards onto the porch.

I see her.

I see me.

Standing there, grinning maniacally.

The last thing I feel is utter terror, and then nothing.,

She grabs my ankles and drags me into the cabin, slamming the door to the outside...

The cabin in the woods had been abandoned for years.

Until one night.

A candle burned in the window.