The Harbinger

The Harbinger

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

Sara had been to her parents’ cabin many times through the years, but this was the first time she had ever been there alone. Always before when she was a kid she came with her parents or her aunt, uncle, and her cousins. This time she needed to be away from people, places, and things. She needed a place to hide and to heal. She needed a haven, so she chose this special place that she had always enjoyed and that meant so much to her.

Tonight, she had left her boyfriend, Ben, after months of experiencing the slow demise of their relationship. What began as true, lasting love (or so she thought) had evolved into first control, then violent fits of temper and finally physical attacks. She had marks on her face, bruises on her arms and the gash across her shoulder she got as he pushed her down to the floor cursing at her, demanding she do as he say or suffer the consequences.

That night when Ben had fallen into a deep liquor-induced coma-like sleep, she had gathered what things she felt she must have and slipped out of the apartment, driving 145 miles on the unlit forest roads to her safe place. A place where she could reboot and decide what to do next to reclaim her freedom and resume her life.

Now, however, a candle burning in an empty ramshackle cabin, deep in the forest made it not feel so safe after all.

Sara saw the glimmer of light from the pile of blankets she had created tossing and turning, still awake when she wanted so to sleep. Initially, she believed it was a trick of light – a reflection of some sort. She almost ignored it, but something tugged at her. She grudgingly rose from her bed and padded over to her bedroom window. It startled her, that lone flickering flame through the windowpane. She knew the pane to be cracked as it had been that way for ten years or so, but that didn’t distort the flame from this distance.

The cabin on the adjacent acreage was little more than a shack in which the years of neglect had taken their toll. She had looked it over on previous trips to her parents’ cabin there. One could see animals had made nests inside. Small openings in the roof had allowed rain and snow to fill the place with mold and lots of unidentified things growing on the floor that was now more dirt and debris than the wood that originally covered the floor. Sara wasn’t sure what had happened to the owner. She remembered as a youngster that the woman who lived there had been kind, but mostly kept to herself. One day, she just disappeared. She didn’t sell the house, she didn’t take her belongings, she just… went missing. She apparently had no family and no real friends in the area, so her disappearance didn’t make much of a stir. As time went on, most people forgot she ever existed.

Who could have placed the candle there and why? Why would anyone want to be in such a dirty, rundown shack that was open to the elements with not a thing in it to offer comfort or convenience.

She stared at the light, listening for any sound that might come from there; watching for any movement, trying to quell the fear that was surging inside her.

Surely Ben didn’t follow her. He had never been here. She had told him about the place and her fond memories there but never told him exactly where it was or how to get here. Surely the candle was not placed there and lit by Ben.

She stood by the window for a few seconds listening but all she could hear was the light wind blowing through the pine trees that surrounded both cabins.

The flame was clearly visible even though it was at least 100 yards away. She felt vulnerable there, alone where there was no cell service and even worse, no one knew she was there. She wasn’t due back at work for four more days. No one would be looking for her.

As unnerved as she was, she knew in her heart of hearts that sleep would allude her as long as that damn candle was burning. She had to know why that candle was burning there – who put it there and what it meant.

In the darkened room she pulled her jeans on, along with her sweatshirt, sneakers, and a jacket. She went into the kitchen to search for the flashlight that she knew was kept in one of the cupboards by the stove. She turned on the stove light, moved a knife block aside, found the old Rayovac flashlight and snapped it on. Dead. She threw it down in disgust only to have the light come on. Recognizing that the batteries were old, Sara set about searching for replacements to no avail. She prayed the flashlight would last for her mission.

Sara stepped outside to make her way to the cabin next door and the flashlight seemed to have a mind of its own – on, then off, faint, then bright. She knew the grounds so well and though the light from the flashlight was sporadic, she had played there after dark with her cousins as children and had no fear of traversing the space between the cabins. It was going inside that held sheer terror for her.

As she slowly placed one foot in front of the other, making her way across the pine needle-carpet that covered the ground, she thought a shadow passed her. Someone or something seemed to have walked behind her faint silhouette in the starlight. She stopped and turned around but found nothing moving, nor was there any sound other than the wind and the pounding of her heart she was certain was making drum-like-sounds. She felt clammy and shaky and suddenly knew this was a bad idea. She was convinced she didn’t belong there yet there she was to find or to face what? – she had no idea.

She was trying to convince herself that her imagination had gotten the best of her and forced herself to proceed through the dark.

Suddenly she felt a painful grip tighten on her bare ankle throwing her off balance and causing the light to go off yet again. Sara gasped clutching a tree truck with her free hand to brace herself from falling into the clutches of this unknown predator. She frantically clicked the flashlight on and off and when it finally clicked on, she realized her foot was ensnarled in a broken branch. What she thought was a boney hand was dry twigs instead. She felt very foolish. Sara crossed the remaining distance without incident.

She stood in front of the abandoned cabin for several seconds studying the flame in the window. What was she doing here? This is crazy and could be dangerous. Just as she was about to turn and retreat to the safety of her own cabin, the candle grew brighter as if to beckon her. Sara could not understand how a candle could become brighter.

When she reached for the door, her heart was pounding, she felt short of breath and had chills going down her spine. The flashlight went off again and she was terrified. She banged the flashlight against the palm of her hand, but it stayed off. She hesitated, wondering if she really wanted to enter this musty and dark dwelling alone. She then decided she had to. She had no choice although nothing made sense. She found she was shaking and shivering and wanting to cry but decided she didn’t have time for that. She struggled to steady her breath and control her trembling hands. As she turned the knob and pushed the door, it creaked loudly. Sara prayed she would not encounter any creature that would lunge at her, disturbed by the noise.

The small cabin felt absolutely still. Nothing moved. The air felt heavy. When she was relatively certain that there was nothing alive in there, she slowly moved through the doorway. Sara made her way further inside into the room where the candle blazed even brighter than it had been moments before.

As she passed a large window on her right, Sara saw a human figure in her periphery. She simultaneously turned, screamed, and dropped to the floor as her brain registered that a stark white face had appeared in the glass. In the process, she had dropped the flashlight.

As she was crouching on all fours on this dirty, uneven wooden floor, Sara thought her heart would beat right out of her chest. She was aware of drips of sweat that were running from her scalp to her face and falling to the floor even though she was shivering to the bone. After several seconds, Sara realized she couldn’t stay in this position forever.

Gathering every ounce of courage she had, she cautiously raised herself back up, holding on to the splintered windowsill. She gingerly peeked over the sill and was startled to see eyes staring back at her. It took only an instant to realize it was the reflection of her own face she had seen there in the faint light. She hadn’t even realized she had been holding her breath until she exhaled. If her own face hadn’t looked so foreign to her, so terror-stricken, she might have laughed at herself. Instead, she found that she was angry at her own gutlessness. Another mistake caused only by fright.

Sara pulled herself to her feet, picked up the flashlight, and turned toward the window across the room where the candle burned even brighter. She forced herself to walk swiftly to it while marveling at the light it was now emitting. She reached the window with the cracked glass and stared at the candle which now illuminated the entire room.

She stood stock-still, mesmerized by the 3-inch flame. Suddenly, there was a “whuff” next to her ear and the flame flickered briefly and then went out as if someone had blown it out. Sara snapped her head from right to left but didn’t see or sense anyone. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the sudden darkness. Gradually, she regained some vision but only enough to see shapes and silhouettes. She could faintly see smokey snake that curled up from the black wick of the candle. She stood trying to make sense of the blown-out candle for there was surprisingly no draft in the shack. The air was still.

As Sara was looking at the wisp of smoke, something caught her attention. She could see her parent’s cabin beyond. She could see the weak light from the stove. And she thought… she saw something move. She narrowed her eyes and strained to see better, but then everything looked still. Everything looked normal. She chastised herself for letting her imagination spiral again.

Of course, she hadn’t forgotten – someone had lit a candle here. It was apparent there was no one in the old cabin now. Her quest, she decided, was useless. She turned to go back, eager to return to the safer place than where she was right then. The flashlight with a mind of its own decided to grace her with light for a few seconds before turning dark again and leaving her in complete darkness. She held the light up by her face and hit the side of it again and it sputtered on.

Sara froze. Her breathing stopped. This time, the face immediately in front of hers was definitely not a reflection of her own.

The face looked to be genderless. There were two gaping holes where eyes should have been. The nose and lips were rotting, and Sara could smell decaying flesh as the face’s mouth formed the word, “Staaaaaaaayyy” in a scratchy voice. Before Sara even had a chance to react, the face melted away.

When Sara could gather her senses, she dropped the flashlight and quickly made her way across the room to the door she had left open. She felt the fresh air on her face and could smell the pine. She hurriedly made her way back to her own cabin guided by a crescent moon and stars. In her mind, Sara repeated the mantra, “That was a dream! That was a dream!”

As soon as she got back to the safety of her familiar cabin, she filled the teapot with water and put it on the stove. She yearned for a cup of valerian tea and a warm shower to wash off the grime and fear left on her from her excursion to the abandoned cabin.

Once freshly clean, dried, and robed, Sara sat at the small kitchen table sipping her tea. She had forced herself to take deep, regulated breaths until they naturally came on their own. She stared at nothing in particular while she tried to calm her mind. She knew she had been edgy from her earlier row with Ben and escape from the toxic relationship she had allowed herself to be confined in up until now. She was certain that her anxiety had fed her imagination tonight, but still couldn’t figure out who lit the candle in the abandoned cabin and why.

Gradually she realized she had been staring at the corner of the kitchen where she had retrieved the flashlight right above the knife block. She also realized that something was wrong. Something was tugging at her mind… One of the knives was missing. The largest knife, the one her father called the French Chef’s knife, was not in its slot. Sara racked her brain to remember if it had been there when she had gotten the flashlight from the cupboard. She couldn’t remember. For all she knew that knife may have been broken or missing for years.

She steadied her breathing and had a stern talking-to with herself. “Stop it!” she thought. “The knife wasn’t there when you got here and it’s not here now! Go to bed!”. She thought this sage advice, and the valerian tea had calmed her nerves somewhat.

She left her teacup in the sink and made her way to the bedroom. She would tell herself that she “forgot” to turn off the stove light but truthfully, she knew she’d feel better if she left it on – an adult nightlight of sorts.

Sara turned on the light beside her bed and climbed into bed. She realized her closet door was open, but she was too exhausted to get out of bed to close it. She reached over to turn off the lamp on the nightstand. When the bedroom went dark, a small light caught her eye. “Not again”, she thought, but this time the source was not outside her window, it was in her room – just to the side of the open closet door. As her eyes adjusted to the dark and she focused on the light source, she realized what she was seeing was something shiny that reflected the tiny light that shown in from the kitchen. Shiny like a knife blade. A French Chef’s knife blade. Only this one seemed to be suspended just to the side and behind the open closet door. Of course, the knife wasn’t suspended at all. As her eyes acclimated to the dark, she realized that the handle of the knife was gripped by a large, gloved hand.

While gaping at the hand with the knife, she suddenly smelled the decaying flesh before she heard the scratchy voice in her ear, “I told you to staaaaaaayyy”.