The Mad Woman of the Crazy Mountains

The cabin in the woods had been abandoned for years, but one night a candle burned in the window. A black and white photo of a woman stood next to it, facing outside as if watching the mountain in the distance. An old man came out of the cabin, a riffle slung over his shoulder, a machete in one hand and a photo album in the other. He groaned as he rested into the chair on the porch and set the book in his lap. His cracked, aged hands gently opened the book and caressed the first photo. A family sat in front of the cabin, 4 boys and a man stood around a woman sitting in a chair, her hand on her round belly.

Gravel popped and crunched and the hum of an engine could be heard just out of sight. A second later, a red Ford pulled up and rolled to a stop. A young man clad in denim and plaid stepped out and slammed the door behind him.

"Pops," the man said. "Are you ok?"

"Daniel," the old man smiled gently. "I'm glad you could come."

Dan's brow furrowed with concern and he approached the cabin, giving it a long look before turning his attention back to his grandfather.

"You all right, pops?" He said more gently. "You shouldn't be all the way out here by yourself. The docs say…."

"I know what the doctors are saying," Pops snapped.

Dan looked at the ground uncomfortably. It had been a year since Pops got his diagnosis. He'd already beaten the odds living this long. Dan always had the feeling the old man was hanging on to something, some heavy responsibility that he wasn't ready to abandon yet.

"So, this was your parents' home stead?" Dan fished for a change of subject.

Pops swallowed hard and nodded. "We left after Poppa passed. My brothers built a new cabin down by the river and they raised me."

Dan noticed the photo of the woman sitting in the window next to the candle.

"And, your mother?" He asked.

When a response didn't come he looked back to his grandfather.

The old man's tired blue eyes swam with tears. His gray beard trembled as he drew shallow breaths.

"I've come to say goodbye to her," his voice cracked with grief and… was that fear?

As if on que the quiet of dusk was split by a long, wailing, bone chilling scream. A cold stillness fell over the woods except the sounds of Pops weeping.

Dan's heart raced in his chest.

"What in the ever-loving hell was that?" He demanded.

"Mother," Pops croacked.

The snapping of a branch drew Dan's attention to the woods. He almost didn't see her through the gray of the waning day. A woman, sort of, stood half hidden by a tree. Her form was bent and twisted and skeletal. Her skin was ashy, nearly blue and only patches of blonde hair still clung to her scalp. She had no eyes that Dan could see, only deep sockets above a mouth that hung half open, leaking tarry spittle that he hoped was black but may have shone with the glint of red.

Pops began sobbing uncontrollably. The creature staggered out from behind the tree for a second, her head tilted sideways. One boney hand raised slightly in a strange reaching motion. Dan felt his body move to stand in front of his frail and frightened grandfather.

The creature staggered backwards into a kneeling position. Her head tipped back to the sky and her mouth opened wide into another ear splitting scream. She spun around and dashed back into the woods on all fours.

"We gotta go," Dan spun around and grabbed Pops's arm. "That thing… we gotta go."

"I can't," Pops whimpered. "She's my responsibility. I have to take care of Mother."

"Are you crazy, old man?" Dan exploded. "What are you talking about? Did you know that thing was out here?"

Pops sniffles and nodded. "It's my fault she is what she is. Now, I have to take care of her." He put down the photo album and picked up the machete at his side. "This is why I asked you out here. If I fail, you have to finish her."

"What exactly is she?" Dan asked, still shaking.

"She was my mother," Pops began. "She and Poppa went on a supply run on the other side of the mountain. She was pregnant with me, shouldn't have been traveling. They, my brothers, figured something happened to the carriage. Poppa died and Momma was stuck up there, in the mountains all alone. She had to survive. She wanted to give me a chance to live. So, she did the unthinkable."

Dan felt a lump in his throat as horrific realization settled on him.

"First she ate the horse then she ate him, Poppa," Pops said. "When my older brothers found them, there was nothing left of him but bones. She'd birthed me out there on the mountain by herself, mad with hypothermia and from the things she had to do to survive. She'd become more animal than human. She made a crib for me in the wagon out of the horse's rib cage, wrapped me up in its hide. Her mind was gone, but somehow, maternal instinct made her keep me alive, made her let my brothers take me when they found me even though she wailed miserably as we left the mountain." He wiped the tears from his eyes. "She's lived out here all these years."

Dan began to feel pity for the creature as he scanned the woods for signs of her.

"Is she dangerous?" He asked.

"Very," Pops said. "The natives call them Wendigo. Born from isolation and cannibalism and fear. She's now the perfect predator. My brothers and I were her last tie to humanity. My time is coming now and she has to be stopped before I go."

"That's why we're out here," Dan said.

Another scream echoed from within the trees. It seemed more mournful now. Dan had to wonder if somehow she knew the son she gave everything for was dying.

"She'll be back soon," Pops said. "I got a pizza and beer inside. We should eat while we got a chance."

Inside the cabin, Dan munched mindlessly on a slice of meat lovers while he contemplated what was happening. Pops savored a long slow sip off a whiskey bottle as he stared out the window past the candle. Dan thought about lecturing him on the dangers of mixing alcohol with hid meds, but he had to wonder if it would matter come morning. The silence was interrupted by another scream.

"It's time," Pops said quietly.

He capped his bottle and picked up his machete and continued staring out the window. Dan grabbed the rifle and stood up. The boards on the porch creaked and Pops's countenance changed.

Dan crossed to the window to see the creature standing on the other side of the single pane of glass. She was down eye level with famed photo.

All at once, the creature launched herself off the deck and through the window. Pops cried out and slashed wildly with the machete. Dan aimed the riffle but she was on top of him. Her claws ripped into his arm. The gun clattered across the floor. Pops yelled with exertion as he swung the machete. The beast ducked, narrowly avoiding the blade. She lunged again at Pops. Her clawed fingers digging into his shoulder. With sharp teeth she gashes at his throat and neck. The knife fell as he stumbled backwards. The creature released his shoulders and she slashed at him. Her claws ripped open his chest and his eyes grew wide.

"Pops!" Dan rushed forward.

Blinding pain sent him staggering backwards. He struggled trying to regain his feet. The beast grabbed pops by the back of the shirt and began dragging him towards the door.

Dan desperately grabbed at Pops's legs.

"No, no, boy," Pops rasped.

Dan met his gaze dizzily.

"It all comes full circle," Pops coughed. "You have to finish what I couldn't."

Everything went black.

When Dan awoke, the sun was starting to rise. Horrid, wailing screams echoed from putting. Ignoring his throbbed head, Dan grabbed the machete and rushed out.

To his horror, the creature was crouched over Pops's lifeless, mangled body. She wailed pathetically, more like a wounded animal than a ferocious beast. Dan approached from behind, quietly raising the machete.

To his horror, the creature's head spun completely around to look at him. He was frozen with shock as he found himself looking into a set of blue eyes sunken deep into the sockets of her starved countenance. Her malformed mouth, covered in blood worked about as if somehow moving independently from the rest of her person. Gurgling and whining came from her throat.

"S-son," a word came out like a cough.

Dan's heart quickened. Was there still a consciousness inside this thing?

"Mmm-my sss-son," the creature sputtered. Tears began to collect in the voids of her eye sockets. "Mmm-my b-b-babe," she drew a rasping breath "b-b-baby."

Dan heart sunk like a lead weight. He felt like a robot as he swung the sharp blade in his hand, swiftly, deftly, as perscicely as as a machine. He wasn't even sure it made contact at first. The creature stared blankly at him for a long moment before the head tumbled backwards away from the body.

Just like that, it was over. He buried the bodies deep in the woods and left, swearing he'd never come back.

Decades later, property developers stumbled upon a couple bodies in the woods. One was determined to be an old man who had gone missing on a camping trip with his grandson. DNA testing showed the other body to be a familial match but there was no record of who she might be. They were given proper burials next to the man's brothers and wife. The family that moved on to the property only stayed a year. Stories of a woman screaming desperately abounded and tales of the "mad woman of the Crazy Mountains" spread like wild fire. The property was abandoned and sits empty to this day.