The Darkness Within

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

A group of teenagers set up camp and sat down around the small fire in the field near the old structure. There were legends about the cabin, but it was always a dare for new kids to come spend the night on the property to see if they could do it or if they left screaming in the night. One of the boys smiled as the flamed bounced in the reflection of his eyes as he asked the rest of group.

“Do you guys want to hear a story?”

The group looked at each other and nodded, knowing that this was always a part of the tradition of any camping trip, and they got excited about hearing what was about to be told.

Once the response was given, the storyteller began…

“This cabin was the sight of a grisly murder, one of the likes had never been seen by the authorities. It was even said that some of the officers couldn’t even step foot into the cabin because they said it just felt ominous. Old man MacArthur had slain his wife and children in such a horrific way, leaving body parts strewn about the cabin, on the floor, on the walls, even hanging from the ceiling.

It was said that old man MacArthur visited the police earlier that week, claiming outlandish stories of hearing voices and whispers and thinking that people were playing tricks on him. He had the police come out to search the premises, but no one was ever found, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. One of the officers claimed he felt like he was being watched as he walked around, but he shook it off as the ramblings of a crazy old man getting to him.

His wife and kids didn’t know what to think, they started to get worried. Worried about Old man MacArthur perhaps going crazy, or worried that their home was haunted by evil spirits. It was unsure what was happening, but they pleaded and pleaded with old man MacArthur to have their family leave and getaway from the house. Old man MacArthur refused, he would have none of it and he would not be driven from his home.

Later that same week, the voices had returned, whispering in his mind repeatedly…

“Kill them…”

“KILL them….”

“KILL THEM!!”

Finally Old man MacArthur had enough. His mind had snapped.

He walked from the cabin out to the back of the house where the log pile was kept and grabbed the wood axe. He moved as if in a trance and he headed back inside and closed the door behind him.

The neighbors said the screams could be heard for miles. Piercing the night air and then quickly cut short to silence. Frightened of what they’d heard, the neighbors called the police. The police arrived early in the morning to find old man MacArthur covered in the blood of his family and holding the axe and muttering to himself...

“The voices made me…”

“The voices made me do it…”

He was on record as to say those things repeatedly. He was arrested and taken to the local jail where he didn’t last the night. Officers found him the following morning, his belt wrapped around his neck and the other end around the top of the bars of the holding cell. They found a note, written in a shaky hand sitting on the bed with the words ‘They made me do it.’

One year after the murder, no one had moved into that cabin. The locals stayed away from the place, claiming it felt evil. That night a motorist was driving along the road and just as they came around the curve, a man holding a wood-chopping axe appeared in the headlights. The driver swerved to avoid hitting the man and crashed into the railing. They looked in the rear view mirror to see if they could see anyone, but no one was there. They got out of the car and looked around, but no one could be seen. Only the sounds of the night filled the air.

It was then that they heard a giggle from what sounded like it came from a few kids not far from them. They turned to survey the area but couldn’t see anyone. They then heard footsteps running through the trees down this old clearing of what appeared to be an old dirt driveway. Figuring that there had to be a house nearby, they followed the sound of the footsteps hoping it would lead them to the house where they could find help since there was no gas station for miles. They called out for the kids, but no response was heard, only footsteps running just out of eyesight. Not far down the driveway, they came upon a clearing and there stood the abandoned cabin, but a candle was lit in the window…

The light from the candle illuminating just enough of the interior that a few shadows could be seen moving back and forth. Figuring that someone had to be home, they walked up to the cabin’s door and slowly knocked, not really knowing what to expect and their heart was racing. Footsteps could be heard on the wood floor within as they approached the door.

“Hello? Is…is anyone there? I need to use your phone, my car crashed just up the way and…”

Their sentence was cut short as the door unlatched and slowly opened to reveal the darkness within. No one stood on the other side of the door, only the soft light from the candle could be seen.

They couldn’t move, they wanted to turn and run, wanted to get away from this cabin as quickly as they could but their feet felt as though they were in concrete. Their heart raced within their chest even faster but then almost stopped when suddenly they heard a whisper emerge from the darkness of the cabin.

“The voices made me do it…”

It was silent for but a moment before they were suddenly pulled inside by what felt like a supernatural force of strength and the door slammed shut and the flame of the candle…went out.

When police arrived at the crash scene the following day, they went down to the cabin in search of the driver, as nobody was found at the car. Police cautiously approached the cabin, knowing the stories of the property. They knocked on the door, but no one answered. After waiting a few more minutes, they opened the door to find it already unlocked and slowly stepped inside the darkness of the cabin. Police searched the entire cabin, top to bottom, but no one was ever found. Baffled, the police left the property and called the tow truck to come get the car. The cabin had claimed another life.

Accidents like this seemed to happen each year on the anniversary of the old man MacArthur murders and soon stories began to circulate that the spirit of old man MacArthur was the one causing the wrecks and the sounds were his kids trying to lure them to the cabin, and every year, no body was ever found at the cabin. People believe that the candle gets lit each year when old man MacArthur returns for another kill and that his family help to lure the victims in so that the old man doesn’t torment them further. It just so happens that tonight, is the anniversary of those murders and it just so happens…that the candle…is lit.”

The storyteller pointed towards the cabin behind them, and everyone turned and gasped as there in the window, sat a candle with an active flame. Silence overtook the group as they all just stared at the cabin, each of them with bated breath wondering if something was going to happen, expecting it but not knowing what exactly. Each of them could feel their hearts racing.

“That was just a story though…”

One of the boys said as he finally seemed to find his voice.

“I mean, none of that actually happened, right?”

The storyteller just looked at him and lightly shrugged. The firelight still bouncing in the reflection of his eyes as a smile appeared on his lips at the idea that had formed in his mind.

“If it’s just a story, then you guys wouldn’t mind checking it out right? After all, we know it’s abandoned, who’s going to stop us?”

The group went silent once again and looked at each other, exchanging looks of worry, fright and even curiosity. After a few moments they all nodded at each other in agreement and stood up from their seats. As a group they slowly moved towards the old, abandoned cabin that towered before them. Only the moonlight created just enough light to reveal the silhouette of the ominous structure; the only source of light at the cabin itself was the candle lit in the window.

The four teens stepped up onto the front porch in front of the door and paused. Fear started to work its way through their bodies and minds once again. One of the girls stepped over to the window where the candle illuminated just a bit of the interior. She froze in place when she saw a dark shadow move across the room and she shrieked in terror and ran back to the group.

“There…there’s something in there!”

The group started to mumble about leaving but one of the boys replied.

“You’re just seeing things and scared from the story, come on, I’ll show you!”

He reached for the door and found it to be unlocked. The door slowly opened with a long, arduous creaking noise and darkness replaced the door. The group again waited, their breaths caught in their throat and one by one they slowly entered the darkness of the cabin.

They looked around the place briefly, not wanting to spend too much time in there when one of the boys found an old newspaper lying on the table. The title revealed about the family murdered in their home. The boys breathing began to heighten as he saw the image of the family and there next to the mother and father, stood their eldest son, the storyteller they had just all listened to at the fire…

Hearing this, the group turned back to the door and saw the kid standing there with a grin, the candlelight the only light bouncing off of the reflection of his eyes.

“Thank you, for saving me from my father…”

Just as his words finished, the storyteller faded in front of their eyes and the door immediately slammed shut with a loud bang.

The three remaining teens ran quickly to the door and found it locked and none of them could get it open. Whispers started to fill the air around them.

“Kill them…”

“The voices made me do it...”

“KILL them…”

“The voices…made me do it.”

“KILL THEM…”

Screams filled the cabin from within. One by one the screams came to an end and once again silence filled the air. The door opened slowly and one of the girls, covered in blood, limped to escape when from right behind her, once again, the whispers began…

” The voices made me do it…”

She released one final scream as she was pulled back into the darkness of the cabin and the door slammed shut. A few moments later, the candle flame went out.

To this day, no bodies have ever been discovered at the cabin after the disappearances, but each year on the anniversary of the MacArthur murders, at cabin in the woods that had been abandoned for years, a candle burned in the window.