Tribulation

The cabin in the woods had been abandoned for years, but one night, a candle burned in the window. Despite its empty state, the cabin was not a decrepit molding thing but was rather large and lovely. It once sat deep in the wood far from the nearest town, but over time, civilization moved closer, and a well-used road sprouted up, with one gentle curve passing just 40 feet from the front stoop. For decades cars sped by, oblivious to its existence amongst the dense trees, until one night in late winter, during an unexpected and hellish storm, a young couple newly married were passing through on their way to a new life.

Annie and Jim, Arizona natives, did not know what to make of the sudden onslaught. The snow was so thick and the wind so fierce their little blue sedan rocked as they crawled along the road. Snow blanketed the curve in the road so well that the asphalt was indistinguishable from the dirt shoulder, and unknowingly the sedan drifted off the road and towards the woods.

A loud thump made Annie jump, and the car shuddered.

“What was that?” Annie asked voice alarmed.

The car fishtailed as the windshield went completely white. Jim applied the breaks, and the car slid sideways. He whispered a curse, and Annie gripped the car door.

“Jim!”

“I know,” he said, turning the wheel frantically, but the car continued to slide.

Annie swallowed a scream as the car suddenly tipped onto its side and came to a jarring stop.

The wind howled as Annie and Jim shared a wide-eyed look. Jim carefully pried his fingers from the steering wheel.

“Are you okay?” He asked, and Annie nodded.

“Stay here,” he said, hitting the release on his seatbelt. The car was at an angle, driver side up, and appeared to have slid into a ditch.

Jim kicked the door open, then caught it with his hands before it could swing shut. A cold wind gusted into the otherwise warm car before Jim jumped out and the door slammed shut behind him. Annie waited nervously for her husband to return. She checked her phone, confirming what she had discovered when the storm first hit their car, that she had no service.

The wind and snow made it impossible to see outside, and she wondered if it was foolish for Jim to have left the car. Time passed, the air grew colder, and Jim did not appear. She turned up the heat, but the air felt lukewarm. Worry ate at her, and finally, as she began to shiver, she could wait no longer.

Unbuckling her belt, she climbed stiffly over the center console and reached the driver’s seat.

She pulled the door handle and shoved her left shoulder against the door, but it opened only a few inches before the wind and gravity shut it again. She tried a second time and a third without success. Frustrated, she clenched her jaw, braced her feet, and threw her whole body against the door. It flew open without a hint of resistance and was so unexpected she fell out of the car sideways. Her hands hit the snow as her body twisted, and she quickly pulled her legs out of the vehicle to avoid the door slamming into them.

She stood and brushed the cold snow from her hands and clothing. The ditch was deep but narrow, and she stood on solid ground next to the driver’s side front tire, which hovered several inches above the ground. The air was so still and quiet that the car’s headlights seemed to extend into the darkness around her for miles. The snow and wind had shut off like a switch had been flipped.

Annie moved around the car, looking for any sign of her husband.

“Jim?” She called, then listened. “Jim?” She yelled louder.

Where is he?

She walked around the car, looking for signs of her husband. There were no footprints other than her own, no skid marks or anything to indicate the direction Jim had gone or the direction of the road.

Worried for her husband but not knowing what else to do, she returned to the car as it was at least slightly warmer inside. She reached for the car door as the engine made a noise she was all too familiar with. Oh no, no, don’t die.

The engine gave one last death rattle before going silent, then the headlights flickered and went out. The darkness crowded around her like a living thing, and she quickly removed her cellphone from her jacket pocket and activated the flashlight.

The battery was garbage, but she had not expected the lights to die so quickly. She shivered. The car is still warmer than out here, she thought and reached for the door. The pads of her fingers hooked on the cold metal handle when the hair stood up on the back of her neck.

The thick cashmere cap she had on slowly lifted from her head, brushing her temples. Her eyes widened, and her breath stuck in her throat. She spun around, hand up, but her phone’s light illuminated nothing but barren snow for several feet before reaching the limits of its power. Her cap was gone, yet it was not on the ground. She turned in a circle, eyes scanning the snow while she tried not to sob.

Screw the cap. I need to get back inside the car. She turned towards the door again when movement in her peripheral vision snagged her attention. She jerked her head to the right. Just outside the center of her light, where everything becomes gray before the light fades completely, was a dark shape. It was solid, as tall as her, and the upper portion was bent towards her. It was absolutely still, and everything about it felt evil.

Something in her screamed that entering the car would be a mistake, that metal and glass could not protect her. She took a slow step backward and then another. Afraid to move, to make any sound, but unable to fight the overpowering need to get away. She was almost to the car’s front bumper when she lifted her phone’s light from the ground. She was terrified of what it would reveal but needed to know all the same.

In a blur of motion, the thing was suddenly in front of her, two gigantic inhuman eyes staring into hers from inches away. She screamed and flung herself backward, landing on her backside in the cold snow.

The thing jerked and contorted until it was on 4 spindly legs and began to move towards her. Annie was on her feet in an instant and ran. Her mind was gone, lost to fear. Oblivious to the trees that whipped past, she somehow moved over and around obstacles without thought. She kept her phone clenched in her right hand, and light bounced across the white landscape as she ran. She jumped over a fallen tree, and her feet sunk into snow up to her knees. Her forward momentum, combined with the deep snow, made her stumble. Her arms shot out instinctively to brace her fall, and the phone flew from her hand. She could only watch helplessly as it vanished.

She scrambled to her feet and moved to where she thought the phone may have landed. A quiet, desperate sob escaped as she ran her hands over the snow. She lifted her head and scanned the inky darkness for any hint of the phone’s light, to no avail. She continued to search blindly with her hands when she heard a raspy breath several feet behind her.

Her head whipped up as her spine straightened, and she plowed through the deep snow away from the sound. She ran through darkness so absolute it felt like she no longer had eyes. Her terrified mind imagined that the creature would catch her at any moment, or she would run into it. Then, like a beacon, she saw a small golden light. Her tired limbs found new strength as she headed towards the light.

A disturbing “clack clack clack” sound came from behind her, spurring her on. As she got closer, the light revealed itself. It was a candle on the other side of a window. It illuminated the clear glass and puddled in the snow below the window sill. All hope to climb through the window fled as she approached and realized it was at least 7 feet above the ground.

But a candle means someone is home.

“Help,” she gasped. Reaching the wooden walls of what may have been a cabin and the circle of golden light in the snow, she turned and faced the darkness.

“Help,” she tried again, a little louder. She knocked her fist against the wall as a shadow moved beyond the light.

“Help!” She screamed and kicked the wall behind her with her right foot. There was a sound in the building behind her, and then more light appeared to her left.

“Hello?” Called a woman’s voice.

The light got closer, and the shadow in the darkness shifted. Annie turned and ran; fear of the creature and fear for her rescuer mingled as she rushed towards the light. An older woman carried another candle, and her faded blue eyes widened as she saw Annie approaching.

“Inside,” Annie gasped. “There’s something out here. We need to get inside!”

Annie raced up to her and grabbed her arm, urging her on. For a second, the woman hesitated, although she did not look afraid. Then she nodded her head, almost to herself.

“This way, dear,” she said, taking the lead. Only a handful of seconds were spent before they navigated up the steps of a wide porch to a doorway with more golden light spilling out of it.

As soon as Annie cleared the threshold behind the older lady, she slammed the door shut. She swiftly located the only lock, a deadbolt, and flipped it with jerky movements. Her skin prickled as she backed away from the door and stared at it. Seconds ticked by, and nothing banged against the door. The adrenaline that had powered her mad dash from the car seemed to flee in a rush, exhaustion taking its place.

She turned to face the other woman who stood regarding her in a large room with cushioned hardback chairs near a blazing fire in a gray stone fireplace. The woman appeared to be in her early 60s. Her hair was almost entirely gray, with just a bit of brown. Her eyes were a pale blue, the color of a well-worn pair of jeans but clear and sharp. She wore what appeared to be a nightgown, with a heavy brown coat over it and sturdy-looking boots.

“Thank you,” Annie said, and the woman smiled.

“Beatrice,” she said. “And you’re welcome, Miss?”

“Mrs. Browne, Annie Browne,” Annie replied. “My husband and I had an accident nearby, and he left the car but never returned. I went out to search for him and encountered... something.” Briefly overcome, Annie shut her eyes.

“Oh, you have had quite the fright, you poor dear,” Beatrice said, placing her arm comfortingly around Annie’s shoulders. “You’re shaking. Why don’t you sit down, and I will get you something warm, and you can tell me everything.”

Drained of energy and trying to process what she had seen, Annie let Beatrice lead her to a stuffed chair that looked like an expensive antique. As Beatrice brought her a blanket and tea, Annie explained what she had seen. She stared at the cup of brown liquid in her hands as she spoke of the creature, afraid to see the disbelief in the other woman’s eyes.

“I don’t think I would be alive if you didn’t hear me calling you,” Annie said. She looked up into Beatrice’s eyes. “Thank you.”

Beatrice looked slightly uncomfortable, and her eyes slid away from Annie’s.

“You have had a truly harrowing adventure,” she said softly. “I am sorry to say that I have neither heard nor seen your husband.”

Sorrow pierced Annie’s heart, and she shook her head, trying to dispel the feeling that she would never again see Jim. Beatrice did not appear to be overly shocked by what Annie had told her, and with a sinking feeling, she realized that she did not believe her.

“I think it’s best if you get some sleep, dear,” Beatrice said. Annie frowned. Truthfully she had never felt so exhausted in her entire life, but how could she just sleep?

“Could I use your phone?” Annie asked, and Beatrice turned to her with an apologetic smile.

“I’m sorry, dear, no phone out here.”

No phone? Who doesn’t have a phone these days?

“Everything will look better after some sleep,” she said. “Let me show you to a room, dear.”

Annie heaved a sigh and followed Beatrice through the cabin. It was rustic but lovely, made of solid wood that gleamed golden brown. Thick carpets in deep greens, reds, and blues decorated the floors as they passed down a hallway and eventually reached a room with a beautiful curved staircase. Annie ascended the stairs behind Beatrice, feeling overwhelmed at the size of the cabin-style house. She was led to a large room on the second floor, with a blazing fireplace and a bed covered in intricate quilts. She stepped past Beatrice, and her tired eyes scanned the room, noting the wardrobe and chair in an otherwise empty space.

“I almost forgot, there’s a bathroom downstairs, not very modern, but there’s a pump for well water and a trick to heating the water for a bath that I can show you,” Beatrice said.

A bath did sound nice but not as nice as the bed looked. Guilt and worry over Jim pricked Annie’s tired mind, and she could only hope the morning would hold some answers.

“Thank you, but I think you were right about sleep. I think it would be best if I leave as close to sunrise as possible. My husband is still out there and may need my help,” Annie said.

Her words were met with silence, and turning, she found Beatrice standing in the doorway with a look of what could only be described as longing on her face.

“The sun, yes, when the sun rises,” she said softly to herself. A tingle of apprehension whispered down Annie’s spine. Beatrice blinked and focused on Annie, giving her a slow smile.

“Goodnight, dear,” she said and then turned to shut the door behind her.

“Wait,” Annie called, and Beatrice stopped to look at her. Annie was a little taken aback by the wariness on her face.

“Could you help me get to town tomorrow?” She asked. Beatrice was silent, and Annie frowned.

“Of course,” Beatrice replied softly before shutting the door.

Annie stared at the door for a second before noticing a simple slide lock made of metal. How many bedrooms have a lock on the inside like this? It seemed weird, but she still felt better when she slid the lock into place.

She walked to the open wardrobe and found a gown similar to Beatrice’s hanging up. Annie grimaced at the thought of wearing a used nightgown, but the idea of sleeping in wet clothing had her stripping and changing into the gown. The fabric was soft and warm. Not unpleasant. As she headed towards the bed, another oddity struck her. There were no windows in the room.

This place is beautiful, but I will be happy to leave, she thought.

She pulled back the covers and slid into possibly the most comfortable bed she had ever slept in, and her tired mind lost all ability to ponder the mystery of her situation as sleep claimed her.

Annie felt refreshed as her eyes opened. Her sleep had been dreamless, and she felt peaceful for a few precious seconds before worry for her husband quickly rushed into her waking mind. She threw back the bed covers and crossed quickly to the bedroom door. Annie slid the lock and opened the door, frowning at the dark hallway before her. It wasn’t pitch black but was still dark. I wonder what time it is?

She walked down the darkened hall, passing two open doorways containing a bedroom similar to the one she had slept in, each lit by a fireplace. She descended the staircase and backtracked the route she had taken last night until she walked into the room where she had sat the night before. It was empty, and the front door was not only shut with the deadbolt engaged, but a thick piece of wood rested in brackets on either side, barricading the door.

“Beatrice?” Annie called. It was silent. She returned to the hallway and went in search of the older woman. She quickly located the kitchen, which lacked modern appliances such as a refrigerator and microwave and an equally archaic bathroom. Both were windowless rooms.

That window is somewhere, Annie thought, recalling the candle. She navigated hallways, which opened into rooms with doors to additional rooms or hallways.

This place is a maze.

She passed elegant metal wall sconces with burning candles and a chandelier made of delicately layered crystal drops. Annie had to admit the place was lovely but so empty and alone.

Finally, she located a dark corridor with a hint of light at the end. It was a little unnerving heading down the dark hall, which curved slightly, but the room at the end was worth it. She stepped out of the hallway and into an extensive library with full bookshelves that towered several feet above her head.

Cushioned chairs were strategically placed with small tables. A candle in an elegant golden candelabra on a small wooden table caught Annie’s eye, for she could see its golden reflection in the pane of glass next to it. Finally! Annie headed towards the window and was immediately dismayed that it was night outside.

I must have slept the entire day, she thought. And where is Beatrice? Could she have left while I was searching the house for some reason?

She retraced her steps until she stood in front of the unchanged front door. The door opened inward, so there was no way Beatrice could have left with the door barricaded.

“Beatrice?” Annie called, again and again, louder each time, while searching the house from top to bottom. What felt like hours passed before she returned to the front room. Annie sat in the same cushioned antique and tried to wrap her mind around the oddness of the house. She had knocked on walls and moved some of the furniture yet could find no other doors that led outside and no other windows. It makes no sense; how did Beatrice leave?

Annie dressed in a thick coat and boots she’d found in her wardrobe, very aware her outfit matched the one Beatrice had worn the previous night. However, her wet clothes had vanished, and it was cold outside. Determined, she went to the door to unbar it. She lifted the wood and then undid the deadbolt. Remembering what could be out there, she cautiously opened the door a sliver.

The light behind Annie didn’t penetrate the darkness directly in front of her. It was pitch black. She inched the door open a little more, and her breathing became loud as her hearing sharpened. She opened the door another inch and then froze as her breathing sped up and was no longer in sync with the breathing coming from outside the door.

She slammed her hands on the wood to shut the door, and it hit something thin and black in the doorway. Panic engulfed her, and she slammed the door repeatedly into the object until there was a loud crunch and the door shut. She turned the heavy deadbolt and struggled to lift the wood plank into place.

On the ground near the door was an oily dark puddle with something in the center. Annie backed up and bumped into a table. Steadying herself, she caught sight of the same candle Beatrice had used the previous night to find her and picked it up.

The candle flame danced as she stood shaking and staring at the dark object on the ground. Eventually, her fear dwindled enough for something far darker and more intense than simple curiosity to take over. It was a primal need to know what she was dealing with, what she was looking at.

She moved towards the black object on the ground and held the light low to study it. A hissing sound startled her, and she watched in morbid fascination as the black substance bubbled and shrank, vanishing. It slid away from the object on the ground until nothing remained but a bleached white finger bone.

She moved backward and sat down heavily in the chair. Her mind worked furiously. If light harmed this creature, then daylight would be her salvation. She just had to wait for the sun to rise. She stood, added a log of wood to the fire, which was still blazing, and headed back to the library.

I will just stay by the window until it’s light again.

Wishing she had found a clock, Annie preoccupied herself by looking at the books on the shelves. It was an eclectic mix, and she eventually chose a romance novel that she could picture an older woman like Beatrice reading. She settled on the chair to read and opened the book. Halfway down the first page, Annie discovered the main character shared her name. Shaking off a sudden feeling of unease, she continued to read. Halfway through the book, she suddenly closed it with a loud smack of paper on paper before flinging it away from her in horror.

It was too close, too similar. Guilt rose inside of Annie as she recalled her only secret. A secret she had kept from Jim and the reason she had convinced him to leave Arizona.

“It’s impossible.” She looked at the book.

How could she have just happened to pick this book? A book whose protagonist had her name, who experienced something similar to the worst moment of her life, to the worst thing she had ever done? She tried to reassure herself by noting the differences. The events described were not identical, she thought.

“It’s just a coincidence. It has to be,” Annie whispered, trying to ignore how unconvincing her words were.

Instead of reading more, Annie left the library and explored the kitchen, discovering fully stocked cabinets and a pantry. Thanks to a camping trip a few years back, she was familiar with wood-burning stoves and put a pot of water on for tea. Annie then traveled to the bathroom to figure out how to heat water for a bath. Clean and in a fresh nightgown, of which there seemed to be many, she returned to the library sometime later with tea and some cookies she had found on a covered plate. She sipped her tea while munching on semi-stale ginger cookies and let her mind wander, remembering the good memories and shying from the dark ones.

Not yet comfortable remaining in the library without something to distract her, she returned her dishes to the kitchen. Passing the candles in the hallways, her brow furrowed, realizing she had yet to come across any spare candles. Yet the ones in the holders were hardly diminished, and she felt confident she would be gone before she needed to worry about replacing them. If I had something to write with, I could keep track of the time better, she thought. There must be a pencil or pen somewhere.

She concluded that the bedrooms upstairs were not worth checking and reluctantly began her search in the library, ending in the front room. She felt a chill crawl up her spine when she spied the perfect pyramid of chopped wood next to the fireplace. I removed the top piece, didn’t I?

Annie headed back into the library. Wax dripped down the sides of the candle, but it was difficult to tell if the candle itself had decreased in height. She looked at the book on the floor and then away as memories tried to surface. Annie did her best to occupy herself and pass the time. But frustrated by the lack of a timepiece, she eventually broke off several thick slivers of wood from a log and used the stove to burn them.

Locating a white tablecloth, she spread it onto a table that could easily accommodate fourteen people in a lovely dining room. She used her newly crafted charcoal pencils to obsessively count and record minutes, only stopping to drink more tea, use the bathroom and check the window.

When fatigue started to claim her and the tablecloth was covered in charcoal lines, she added everything up. Tears slid down her cheeks as she counted again and again, yet the number did not change. She returned to the library and the dark window. She held her hands to the glass and looked out at the snow.

Sixteen hours, she thought numbly. She turned to face the room, and something caught her eye. One of the books was sticking out further than it should. She had counted every book and would have noticed one sticking out so far. Apprehension made her skin crawl, and she looked around the room. She slowly approached the shelf and carefully removed the book.

“Tribulation” was written in flowing script across the otherwise blank cover. She opened the book and on the first page was a drawing of a town. She returned to the chair by the candle and began to read. The book was not thick, and it did not take her long. She closed the book and set it on her lap as she finished it. She stared at the back cover as her heart shattered, and a deep, agonizing regret filled her every pore. In beautiful detail, a drawing of a cabin looked up at her.

Jim Browne shivered in the cold as the tow truck hauled his car out of the ditch. The sun glinted off of the hood, highlighting the empty seat where his wife should have been. The cops had searched all night for Annie but found no trace of her. Cars sped past as the Sheriff headed his way. Jim didn’t like the look on his face.

“We’ll keep searching,” the Sheriff promised, not bothering to explain that they had not found anything and not hiding the look in his eyes that clearly said they didn’t expect to find anything.

“She has to be out there somewhere,” Jim said.

The Sheriff pursed his mouth. “I’m sure she is, and I don’t want to sound insensitive, but it’s not likely she could have survived the exposure. It was 10 below last night.”

Jim’s shoulders dropped. For one brief moment, he’d had hope. The Sheriff had driven him out to meet the tow truck, and in the bright morning light, Jim had spotted a building through the trees. A cabin the Sheriff had assured him was long abandoned. Two deputies had accompanied him through the trees, and the moment he’d laid eyes on the building, he was convinced his wife was inside. He had searched every dusty room, hoping to find even the slightest sign of her, and although he would never stop looking, some part of him knew he would never see her again.

“Come on,” the Sheriff said kindly, “Let’s get you some coffee.”

The small town of Tribulation appeared as the Sheriff’s car turned a bend in the road. Jim had spent his night at the Sheriff’s small office, having been lucky enough to catch a ride into town when the storm had died down. He had not paid much attention to the quaint buildings and roads last night, but seeing the town now reminded him of where he had been headed with Annie.

The Sheriff parked in front of a Diner that looked like it had been serving patrons for the past hundred years. A bell chimed above their heads as they walked inside, and a kind waitress, straight out of a 50’s era movie, guided them to a booth and took their order. The coffee was delicious, as was the corned beef and hash the Sheriff recommended.

“Car should be fixed tomorrow, and the weather is supposed to be clear,” the Sheriff said, leaning back in the booth. “You can stay at Maisey’s across the way tonight.” He pointed across the street to a small hotel. “I suggest you head on out of town tomorrow, Mr. Browne. I will call you if I have any news, but there is no sense in staying. Trust me on this.”

Leave? How can I leave?

The Sheriff was standing and leaving some money on the table before Jim could even protest.

“I would take his advice,” said an older woman, sitting at a table a few feet away.

“I can’t just leave; my wife is missing,” Jim said. “Besides, Tribulation isn’t such a bad place.”

The woman looked at him with faded blue eyes.

“Tribulation may not be a bad place, but it’s not the place for you, dear,” she said. She sipped a drink and then stood up. “I’ve waited a long time to leave, and that day has finally arrived.”

She moved past Jim towards the door, and Jim frowned.

“Wonder what she was waiting for,” he muttered to himself. She paused behind him.

“Someone to take my place,” she said softly.

He looked out the window as a greyhound bus pulled up outside. The woman exited the diner and briefly turned her face to the sun as if she had not felt sunlight in a long time, then she smiled and boarded the bus.