The Caves Speak

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

The cabin sat on the threshold of the unknown. It was the last stop before venturing into the Casted Caves.

Such a unique cave system had been discovered up north in the 70's, stories of its secrets enveloping town gossip for years. Visitors were few however—not all of the stories that reached local ears were pleasant.

The Casted Caves got their name from their strange, other-worldly internal structure. The cave formation was fascinating, to be sure. It just defied logic. It was terrifying.

The cave walls had vast grooves and curves that resembled ribs pressing against skin. There were impressions and protrusions all over that peeked out of the darkness like faces. Even to enter the caves made hikers uneasy—the only way in was underwater, its entrance flooded by stream.

Thus, almost as an unspoken dare to brave the cave system, the scrawny cabin was built near the entrance by a couple of thrill-seeking locals in the 80's. On the heavy wood door, there's a box for you to leave your contact information or last will and testament. Within, there's a bed for you to rest your weary head, a lantern beside it to brighten your spirits, and a box of specially made candles in the corner. Each candle is a signal. If you plan to enter the caves, you light the candle the morning of, and you leave it burning. That candle becomes your lifeline, or so it is said.

The candles must burn for an entire day. If your candle goes out before the day is out, due to wind or some other unknown interference, you have met some misfortune within the caves and are in need of help or rescue. If your candle burns down to the wick before you return from the caves, it means the sun has set, and you will never emerge again.

The superstician alone was enough to keep most at bay. However, when tourists began disappearing after hiking into Casted Cave territory, superstician gradually turned into fear.

Nowadays, the cabin still stands, but the caves have not been intruded upon for a long, long time. As far as the locals are concerned, with everyone that disappeared, the caves have had their fill and are no longer hungry.

But is the belly of a monster ever truly full?

***

"This is a bad idea," Jack mumbled, scratching at the mosquito bite on his elbow for the millionth time. "Freaking bugs. This sucks."

"Dude, shut up," Malcolm retorted, just a few feet ahead of Jack on the trail. "We're almost there, just zip it for a few more minutes." Jack rolled his eyes.

"You've never even been here before, you've got no freaking clue whether or not we're close, so don't give me that crap," Jack uttered, taking a quick swig from his water bottle. "No phone service, no nothing, we're just following this stupid path. I'm using you as a shield if there are bears up here."

Malcolm laughed, walking a little faster just to piss off Jack. "We'd better get moving, they always go for the slowest."

Jack chuckled, squeezing his water bottle towards Malcolm so it's contents shot out at him like a water cannon. He laughed as it splattered all over his target. "Sorry Mal, you looked a little gross and sweaty."

"Screw you too."

Despite Jack's skepticism earlier, the two friends indeed were almost to the caves. Malcolm could just make out the gargle of water sloshing over rocks and the buzz of dragonflies whizzing over cattails.

"I think it's over this next slope," Malcolm guessed, wiping sweat and water bottle water from the back of his neck. He smirked as the mixture of slimy wetness dripped from his hand. "You got me good, I'm throwin' you right in that stream."

"You're on," Jack shouted from behind.

On cue, both boys took off running. They kept their eyes trained to the ground as they raced, side-stepping roots and avoiding branches up the final slope. Malcolm held the lead, still a few feet ahead of Jack.

"That mosquito bite give you any cool super powers? It sure as hell isn't speed," Malcolm taunted over his shoulder.

"You're... on... the track team," Jack panted, already exhausted. "Unfair... advantage."

Malcolm laughed, trotting confidently up to the top of the slope. He stopped short at the sight before him.

"Get up here, dude, this is pretty amazing."

Jack finally jogged up next to Malcolm, placing his hands on his hips to open up the airways. He took deep breaths, peering around.

"Wow. You sure this is it?"

Malcolm nodded, a wide smile playing onto his lips. "This is it."

The two boys stared in awe at what looked like a giant pile of boulders spilling out into the stream before them. The boulders, each the size of a car, protruded from a steep wall of earth that lined the river bank, and lush green hemlock trees grew above them. And at the center of this great pile of rocks was a small opening into the cave system. Water trickled down into this crevice and disappeared into darkness.

"If that's the opening right there," Malcolm said, "then the cabin should be right over here."

And sure enough, there it was. To the right of the cave about a hundred yards away sat the cabin, embedded in an overgrown clearing of honeysuckle and barberry. It's weathered appearance made Jack shiver, but Malcolm seemed to beam with excitement at the sight of it.

"I honestly can't believe it's still standing, it's been here for so long." Cheerfully, Malcolm tightened the straps of his bag and started hoofing it to the cabin. "Come on Jack, it's gonna be dusk soon."

Jack sighed, taking one last look at the cave entrance before leaving the river bank. He froze for a moment. There was something in there—something moved.

The sound of the gargling water was calming, almost like a lullaby against his sweating, sunburnt head. He was tired from the hike, and his feet hurt like hell. The sun was setting, and he was a little dehydrated. All of that made sense. It would give reason for him imagining things.

But still.

The more he stood there, gazing into that gaping mouth into the caves, the more certain he felt. In this certainty, he could feel goosebumps beginning to creep onto his arms, he could feel prickly hairs beginning to stand on the back of his neck. There was no doubt in his mind, though he wished there was. He had seen something move—something serpentine, slither back into the darkness.

***

"The wood's expanded so many times, the door is freaking jammed." Malcolm heaved, knuckles white against the knob as he tried to free the cabin door. "Jack, would you get over here? It won't budge."

Malcolm stopped pulling for a second as Jack approached him. Jack's face was pale, and his eyes darted about nervously.

"What's up with you? Eat some bad berries or something?" Malcolm joked, gently. "You good, man?"

Jack shook his head, grunting as he cleared his throat. "It's nothing man, I'm just so dead after that trip. I'll give you a hand."

Without another word, Jack marched over to the door, grabbing hold of the knob with one hand and bracing the other against the wall. "You ready?"

Malcolm nodded, tightening his grip on the knob beneath Jack's sweaty hand. "Let's give it a shot."

After a brief pause, the two gave a giant heave. And that was that. The door not only opened, but with a low creak and a snap, it released its hold on the hinges and fell to the ground. The boys jumped back, coughing as the mustiness of the cabin interior poured out into the open.

"Alright then, that sucks," Malcolm sighed, batting the cloud of dust out of his face. "I guess we're sleeping in here with no door."

"Screw that," Jack exclaimed, "I'm gathering up some sticks to make a barricade. Bears, remember?"

"Oh my god, Jack, I was kidding before. I guarantee you we're not going to see a bear, I haven't even seen a squirrel since we got up here."

"Fine, no bears, but what about coyotes? Wolverines? Snapping turtles?" Jack shook his head, already walking off into the brambles to hunt for sticks. "I'm not taking any chances."

"Suit yourself," Malcolm muttered. "I'll get us set up."

The floorboards groaned beneath his boots as Malcolm stepped inside the cabin. The air was heavy with dust and smelled of pine. There were gaps in between the lincoln-log-style walls, allowing gentle streams of light inside. The one window that looked out was clouded with mold and tobacco residue, and the bed was now just a hollow frame, the mattress torn up and fluffed into a mouse nest.

"Could be worse," Malcolm said under his breath as he set his bag down. Peering around the dim interior, his eyes landed on a small box in the corner. It looked about 8" by 12". His heart fluttered as he realized it was the box. The fabled box of candles.

Like a kid at Christmas, Malcolm descended on the box. He pried open the top, revealing layers of cloth inside. The rags were ripped and smelled of mouse urine, but with careful hands, he brushed the fabric apart.

Towards the bottom, there they were. The candles were white with odd designs painted on their exterior in black ink—crosses with flames engulfing them, snakes with spear-like tails, fish with no fins or gills. Each candle was about a foot long, and their wicks looked up at Malcolm in anticipation.

"Twelve hours," he whispered, chuckling at the silliness of the superstician. "Jack will love this."

***

The night went by slowly, almost painfully so. Jack's barricade stood crude and falling apart as crickets chirped outside. The wind whistled through the trees, dislodging pine cones from above that thumped against the cabin roof.

Snug in their sleeping bags, Jack and Malcolm's minds raced at the thought of entering the caves in the morning. While Malcolm could hardly contain his excitement, Jack could hardly contain his newfound fear. Every so often, he'd peer out the door through his stout wall of sticks towards the river. He'd never see anything but the gleam of moonlight reflected off the water. The pile of rocks surrounding the cave entrance was blanketed in shadow. He hoped each time he looked he wouldn't see anything. The thought of actually seeing something set his teeth on edge. Yet, he felt compelled to sneak a peek every hour or so. Just in case.

Morning finally came, and somehow the two had dozed off. The soft rays of morning sunshine delicately disturbed the quiet of dawn, greeting everything they touched like a mother waking her child from sleep. The dew sparkled across the grass outside, and the birds started to sing a sweet tune.

Jack opened his eyes to see Malcolm already up. He had gotten dressed, repacked his bag for the day trip into the caves, and he gnawed absentmindedly at a protein bar.

"Ah, you're up," he mouthed through the granola, "there's one of these for you too." He tossed a protein bar over to Jack, gobbling up the rest of his hurriedly. "We gotta get moving man, it's about time to go. You gotta pack up quick, put that waterproof slip over your pack, all that crap. And we gotta light the candle."

Malcolm pointed to the window sill where one of the white candles now stood. He had wiped the glass so the candlelight could be seen from outside, and he had carved a small hole into the sill to keep it in place.

"I couldn't find a candle holder anywhere," he added as Jack studied the window. "I think people picked over this place pretty good. Not sure why they left the candles behind, you could probably sell them to tourists and make some good money. I'm taking some when we leave as souvenirs, they're cool."

Jack grumbled to himself as he slunk out of his sleeping bag. He glanced out again at the river, at the boulder pile, but saw nothing. With the sun shining and the birds chirping, relief washed over him, and for the first time since they got to the cabin, he was actually feeling a little excited.

***

"Alright, I'm taking my shoes off for this," Malcolm said as he eyed the water. "We probably won't even need our shoes once we're in there, I think there's got to be at least a couple inches of water throughout. I should've brought sandals."

Jack sighed and joined Malcolm in untying shoes. He glanced up at the cave entrance, still a seemingly bottomless pit into nothingness. Not even the sunlight could reach the interior.

"Am I going first?"

Jack jumped as Malcolm's question disrupted his thoughts. "Am I going through there first?" Malcolm repeated.

Jack nodded, chuckling nervously. "Yeah, I think you are man, I don't know if I can go first."

"Okie dokie," he said, climbing to his feet. "From what I've read, it only takes a couple seconds to reach the cave body once we go under. There's a boulder that blocks the way, so we swim under that, and we're in."

"If you're sure, then okay," Jack said, a little uneasy. "I'll be right behind you, come back out if you feel like you can't make it."

"It only takes seconds, Jack. I think it'll be fine."

Jack crossed his arms, and watched his friend closely as he walked over to the cave entrance. The crevice was wide, but not wide enough for more than one person at time. Malcolm ran his hand along the edge of the boulder, quivering as the icy water greeted his skin. He took one last look at Jack, tightened his back pack straps, and then dunked his head underwater and out of sight.

Jack stood up, making his way slowly into the water. The cold water sloshed against his hips as he approached the spot where Malcolm went under.

"He's gotta be through by now," he muttered. "Crap, this is stupid."

Jack checked his pack again to make sure the waterproof cover was secure, pulling the strap as tight as it could go. Hesitantly, he glanced over his shoulder at the cabin that stood tall in the clearing, watching their every move. Even with the sun overhead, he could just make out the flicker of the candle in the window, dancing against the smeared glass.

"Okay, here I go."

He turned to face the blackness of the cave entrance, focusing on the sound of the water running in. Taking a deep breath, he squeezed his eyes shut, and went under.

Everything was pitch black at first. Despite opening his eyes underwater, there was nothing to see. Panic began to rise in the back of his mind as he inched forward, his hand feeling the boulder above him and guiding him through the opening. Almost there.

Just as he was starting to consider turning back, he could see a dim light shining through the water just a few feet ahead. A flashlight. Through the murkiness, he kept swimming, the sight of the light reassuring him that Malcolm had made it through.

Finally, his hand still raised about him, his fingertips rose out of the water to meet the cool air of the cave. Like a dolphin, he shot out of the water, gasping for breath.

"Jesus!" He shrieked, gulping gratefully at the air. "That was a lot longer than a couple seconds."

He wiped the water from his eyes, still wheezing and forcing water from his nose. After composing himself, he looked around. The walls that surrounded him were some of the strangest he had ever seen.

The rock surface did not even resemble stone. It bulged and dipped like a fleshy stomach. Through the blurriness of his eyesight which was still adjusting from the water, he could swear the walls seemed to expand and contract ever so slightly. Like breathing.

Despite his fascination and fear of the walls surrounding him, he jumped with a start at the realization that he still hadn't seen Malcolm.

Suddenly worried, Jack made his way out of the deeper part of the water. There was nowhere he could step that was dry, and he could barely see his feet beneath him. The only light in this odd space came from the far wall. A flashlight lay at the bottom, half submerged.

Jack shuffled cautiously towards the light, arms extended in front of him in case he tripped. He scooped it up, immediately recognizing it as Malcolm's. Where was he?

"Mal?" Jack whispered, unsure how to react. "Mal, where are you?"

The flashlight flickered weakly, dripping with water. He tried to shake it dry as best he could, peering around the room.

"I thought this was a cave system," he thought to himself, "but this room has no exit."

Anxiety building, Jack stopped moving so he could listen. The slight trickle and sloshing of water entering the cave was rhythmic, like waves against a shore. Water dripped from the ceiling, wetting his head. It felt heavy on his hair.

"It's so humid in here," he mumbled, raising a hand to wipe the water away. "What the hell, where is he?"

But it wasn't water on his head. It wasn't sweat either. To his horror, as Jack brought his hand back down to his face, he could see the crimson sludge covering his fingers. Blood.

His skin felt hot, fiery from adrenaline. Frozen in place, he glanced upward. He stifled a scream as he stared into the lifeless eyes of Malcolm, dangling above him.

There was a deep gash in his chest, and he seemed to be tangled up in what looked like stalactites—but they were moving.

He immediately recognized these tendrils–only they would explain the bizarre form he saw moving in the mouth of the cave the day before. As he stared, his eyes transfixed, he noticed the tendrils had small openings that ran along each of them, almost like suckers on a squid's tentacle. These openings poked, prodded, and chewed at Malcolm's limbs and clothes, moving him across the ceiling of the cave.

"Oh my god," Jack whispered. "Oh my god, what the hell. Oh god, what do I do?"

Nothing.

Jack snapped his mouth shut as he heard a voice ring out, echoing off the cave walls.

There's nothing you can do for him now.

The voice rang out again, deep and guttural.

"Who's there?" Jack muttered, his voice a mere squeak.

I am. So are you. And him.

Tears formed in Jack's eyes, and he choked on his saliva as he tried to form words. "What are you? What have you done to my friend?"

I must eat.

Jack's breathing grew shallow, labored with each inhale. The air around him was steadily growing heavier, and there was a sour taste within it. Such a taste was ripe with something rotten. It was damp on his tongue, and it stung his throat. Like acid.

Clutching the flashlight to his chest, he staggered back towards the cave entrance, gasping for cleaner air. He braved one last look at Malcolm, who hung limp against the tendrils that now seemed to warp around him. The wall was engulfing him, his face the only thing left of his body that Jack could still clearly see.

"No," Jack stuttered, glancing away. "No, I... have to... get out of here."

He splashed into the water as he fought to breathe, feeling for the space beneath the surface.

"I'm not... gonna die," he uttered, taking one last breath before submerging.

He kicked his legs desperately, once again surrounded by blackness. Both hands outstretched, he felt his way under the boulder. He squinted through the water, pushing his way through the narrow passageway as he eyed the sparkle of sunshine above him just a few feet ahead. He was almost through.

But just as suddenly as the sunshine had come into view, it dimmed, growing further away with every inch he gained.

Sunset? No, it couldn't be. It was dawn when they swam in!

Bubbles burst from Jack's mouth as he screamed through the murk, his shrieks muted by the water. A tendril had latched onto his ankle.

He kicked, clawing at the snake-like arm that only tightened its grip around his leg. He tried to gain ground, but he could feel it tugging him backwards—back into the belly of the beast.

Despite the water, he heard the voice once more. It's thunderous yet raspy sound echoed in his brain. It spoke out to him, calm and even, the last thing he would ever hear. The truth in it chilled him to the bone, and the fate it promised was worse than death.

Your candle burned out.