Until the last charcoal burns

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

A shadow darted across the cabin's interior, and the candle snuffed out. An eerie scream pierced the silence of the night, scattering the bats into the darkness. Something sinister had taken control of that moment.

"Noah, you and David will be in cabin 13, to the right of the storage house," Mr. Collins instructed, directing his flashlight towards the boys. Noah stood frozen, his movement akin to a slow-motion stretch, fixated on the abandoned cabin. He awkwardly gripped his flashlight, causing its beam to waver erratically in the air. Irritated by the light, several shadows slinked down the trees.

"John is missing!" Mr. Franklin exclaimed, his voice trembling, leaning over Collins's shoulder. Collins gazed at Franklin for a moment, not uttering a word. The shared fear of the unknown gripped everyone, anticipating the worst. The adult Scout leaders instructed the rest of the boy scout team to divide into groups of four and make their way to their respective cabins. Flashlights waved, revealing cabin numbers, and the kids dispersed swiftly.

"We're all going to burn like charcoal in the fire," Noah muttered, pacing in circles around the campfire, hesitating to enter the cabin.

Only a few children managed to drift into sleep; most remained awake.

The door to room 1 in cabin 13 creaked open and slammed shut a few times. Noah and David lay in their beds, eyeing each other with tense anticipation. David's foot abruptly dangled over the bed's edge, and he was swiftly dragged across the room. The door slammed shut. Noah stared in horror, his gaze locked onto the contorting shadow. Fear overtook him, causing him to wet his bed.

The candle in the window of the abandoned cabin once again emitted its glow.

Somewhere down the corridor, another door crashed open.

A shadow slithered across the walls, its size expanding.

This time, Steven was forcefully pulled across the uneven floor, leaving a trail of blood behind.

Meanwhile, Mr. Collins stood in his room by the window, observing four small forms floating in the lake, illuminated by the crimson moonlight. He turned away, and the shadow nodded in approval. Collins collapsed onto the bed, motionless, and covered his face with his trembling hands. He had traded his soul for the safety of his son, and now, the price was increasing—more innocent children.

On the following cold morning, the remaining boy scouts and the two adult leaders gathered around the fire. The quiet was broken only by the dawn chorus of blackbirds singing. The lake remained still, the aftermath of the previous night's carnage. The morning breeze carried the scent of mud in the mist, a grim reminder of the deceased. The bodies of the four young boy scouts had vanished. A hawk's piercing screech drowned out Emilie's scream as she stumbled upon four more bodies hanging from the old oak tree. Overwhelmed, she fainted.

When Mr. Collins later checked on her, she was nowhere to be found.

"Gone, like the others," Susan whispered, her ghostly form appearing behind Mr. Collins. He sat on the bed, tormented, unable to summon even tears, until the sound of washing machines working in unison drew them outside.

"Jacob, Kevin, and Trevor..." When Collins rushed into the camp's laundry room, Mr. Franklin struggled to stand, hunched over an old dryer. Both men were on the brink of screaming.

Susan's sprint towards the laundry room slowed as she reached her cabin. Outside, a familiar voice reached her ears.

"One, two, Freddy's coming for you,

Three, four, better lock your door,

Five, six, grab your crucifix,

Seven, eight, better stay up late,

Nine, ten, never sleep again."

Jessika's voice echoed from their room as she moved around the vacant beds like a soulless marionette. Through the window's reflection, Susan and Jessika's gazes met. In the grimy glass, Jessika spotted the rekindled candle in the abandoned cabin's window. Something watched from within. Night fell rapidly. Police officers combed the area around the camp, yet no bodies were found.

Mr. Franklin desperately searched for his nephew Jimmy. Doors in cabin 13 began to swing open and shut. Lights flickered off, and a shadow crept into the corridor. Franklin's flashlight revealed the lifeless forms of the four boys from room 4, crammed into a closet. His nephew's blue hat, adorned with white stars, confirmed the horrific sight. The door slammed shut. His body smashed against the window, then was dragged towards the lake.

A silhouette of an Indian soldier approached Collins by the lakeside.

"You betrayed us all. Burn in hell!" the soldier declared, dousing Collins in gasoline. He watched as Collins agonizingly burned, his body eventually falling into the lake. The Indian soldier disappeared into the woods, leaving a long-held grudge behind. The lake became the keeper of this secret for years.

Noah and Susan, the only survivors of the boy scout team, walked hand in hand towards the abandoned cabin. They willingly sacrificed themselves to the malevolent force embodied by the burning candle. But it hungered for more...

Another boy scout team was scheduled to visit Troop 949 in McHenry, Illinois, the following week.