Waypoint

The cabin in the woods had been abandoned for years, but one night, a candle burned in the window. The people in the town of Meadow would soon find out that this was significantly more beautiful than they had anticipated.

The people of Meadow would all agree that the cabin was cursed. The extent of what that meant was debated among who you asked. "It was the cabin of an old hunter who angered a forest diety. It drove him to madness and he killed himself." The local trappers would recount in between gulps of ale and stout. "That cabin belonged to a woman who found out her husband was unfaithful and poisoned him one night before running off into the forest never to be found." Whispered the women among town milling about chores and gossiping. The children it would seem always found a way to make the lore increasingly macabre, " We heard it was a witch. She took in orphans and even bought children from parents who had debts so she could practice her medicines on them. Said she worked for a Devil king who demanded only the strongest draughts to keep him young." All in all the citizens may have disagreed on the subject, but two things they knew for certain. One, leave that place alone. And two, only the elders of the town could really say what that place was, and they were not so quick to talk. So you can imagine that when the candle was seen that night, illuminating that hallowed of places that haunted the town, the citizens were most certainly unnerved.

A portly baker with skin the color of bread left to proof shifted on his wooden stool, "action must be taken immediately!" He demanded wagging a doughy finger in the air. "And what do you suppose we do hmm?" The blacksmith sat forward his bronze arms glowing in the light of the fireplace, "do we march out there to investigate? Or how about we go and rile up whatever curse is on that ground and bring nothing but ash and fire to our Meadow? To our children, wives, and elders?" "I never suggested such a thing you fool!" The baker rose to his feet, his face a bright red. "No you only demanded action without a plan and thats just as bad. So quiet yourself and demand nothing else lest you invoke my wrath." The blacksmiths eyes were like embers and his voice like a flame being stoked by the billow. "Brothers please, do not let this trite inconvenience drive us to be at each others throats." The reverend floated between the two men his hands raised attempting to placate his townsmen. "Listen reverend," a man, tall as a redwood stepped into the light, his voice low like an earthquake, " this is anything but trite." The woodsman pulled his axe from his back. The fire of the hearth danced on its reflective edge moving along it like a river. "I agree with the baker. Let us go up there together and be done with this curse on our Meadow." He looked at the blacksmith, "for our children, wives and elders." A smug smile was on the bakers face, "well there you have it blacksmith, enough of a plan for you?" The blacksmith looking around the small tavern acknowledging that the men, though anxious, were at least for the moment spurred into action. "Have it your way then," he said shaking his head. "Don't be sore blacksmith." The woodsman extended his hand, veins like vines winding up and down his arms, "we need you for this so please come along." The flame in the blacksmiths eyes calmed a little as he let out a sigh, "Very well then. Let us confront this head on." He grasped the Woodsmans hand with an iron like grip, "for our loved ones."

The night was calm. The trees didn't move and the stars joined the moon in it's work of bathing the townsmen and thier path in pale cold light. No one uttered a whisper and the only sound came from the three torches that were being carried. Crackling in the air and threatening the forest around them. The men crossed the bridge that sat over a small river only a few feet from the destination that was causing them so much tension. "There." The Woodsman pointed towards a faintly glowing spot in a small clearing. "It's been three days and that candle hasn't stopped burning. What a wicked thing this place is." The Reverend pulled his robes closer together shaking at the thought. "Lord please give your angels charge concerning us." The other men murmured soft amens as they marched into the clearing and coming face to face with the cabin. "Look kinsmen," The baker stepped forward out from the crowd plucking a torch free from one of the other men, "see how this cabin stands in opposition to us?" The men began to knod and silently agree, "Well I for one had enough of this wickedness." The Baker shouted, galvanizing the throng into a frenzy of agreement. He turned on his heels and tossed the torch. The flames danced through the cold air reaching out towards the cabin, but just as quickly as they were alive they died. The torch was snuffed out and laying on the ground as if it had never been alive or was ever more than anyhting but a stick. "What witchcraft is this?" The baker now the color of flour stepped back his eyes wide in horror. This was more than enough to scare off most of the men. Leaving only the Baker, Reverend, Blacksmith and Woodsman to stand against the menacing darkness that was embodied by a single candle on the sill of an abandoned cabin. "Where are you going cowards?" The Blacksmith scooped up a torch and flung it at the men running away. "Move aside Baker." The woodsman stepped forward. Axe in hand. "I'll tear the wretched thing down myself if I have to." The Blacksmith strode up standing by his side and gritted his teeth, "Aye, let us rid our Meadow of this blight once and for all." The four men steeled there nerves and crossed into the threshold of the cabin. Not knowing what to expect they prepared themselves for war yelling loud enough to wake the trees to life as they flailed through the door. They in turn were met with silence. "It's barren." The Baker was the first to speak. "What is going on here?" The Blacksmith was perturbed as he shuffled back and forth looking back at the men, "Have we been made to be fools today?" He roared throwing his hammer agains the wall, "Have we been mocked?" The candle went out immediately and the front door of the cabin slammed shut with a deafening thud that shook the dirt loose from the roof. "Dear God!" The Reverend jumped grabbing on the garment of the Woodsman, "Steady yourself man," The Woodsman looked down at the Reverend annoyed but immediately trailed off. His gaze focusing on the Baker and Blacksmith, then to what both men were both staring at in a dark corner of the cabin. There, a tall naked elderly woman stood. Her arms stretched above her head as if in prayer. Her body arching backwards towards the corner. "Look!" The Baker shakily pointed at another corner with an elderly man posed in the same way as the woman. The Blacksmith and Woodsmen bared their teeth, standing back to back while slowly circling to survey the whole room that was now filled with elderly people all in the same pose. "Thank you Reverend for leading these sheep to us." A voice soft and lilting cut through the horrendous scene laid out before the men. They all turned to face the Reverend,"You?" The Woodsman pointed his axe at him, "This is your doing?" The Reverend began making his way to the door. Looking at the men with a sense of superiority, "I did what must be done. I too, have a role to play and like you said," a wry smile cut a line of teeth across his face as he stepped passed the bodies frozen in time and through the door, "For the children, wives, and especially our elders." He laughed as he stepped outside. Securing the only way out behind him. Before the men could respond the voice returned, "Brave men. Strong, mighty men. How grateful we are for what you do for The Meadow." The Woodsman gripped his Axe handle so tightly his knuckles turned the color of milk sap shouted ferocioulsy, "What trickery is this?" The men covered their ears as all at once the people in the cabin began to laugh. "No trickery, like moths you came and we will guide you forward into sweet, peaceful acceptance and oblivion." Now the Baker was furious, "I will not stand for this. I have baked for royalty. People search for me and my food far and wide. I do not have to stand for this mockery!" The laughing commenced again, "Oh portly baker. You make a fine feast but for whom? You can't even spare a crumb for those who suffer yet you get fat on the honey of others. You will serve us a better meal than you could ever imagine and we will grow fat on your strength. So that we might help those less fortunate than us." A loud bang and the cabin was covered in the blood and skin of the baker. The Elderly people began to move for the first time as they laughed and rubbed the fresh viscera all over themselves. The two other men were still grimacing, thier faces covered in blood and fat. "Baker..." the Blacksmith said weakly, still shocked at what just happened. "Steel yourself Blacksmith," the voice returned talking in a mocking tone now, "You, with your pride in everything you craft. It's apparent that with your hands you create unrivaled masterpieces." The Blacksmith began to regain his composure and quickly tried to plead his case, "that...that's right. That's right I do. That's why I'm still necessary. This town needs me!" He tried to stand resolutley but his body kept shaking. "Now, now Blacksmith. We both know that you do what is only right for you. Don't we? What of the children you forged? The wife you leave to wax cold while you toil away? What about the family you barely stoke at all?" His shaking turned to anguish. "You're right. You're right. They need me and I failed." Tears ran down his face, "I'm still needed." A loud bang and Blacksmiths blood and flesh covered the cabin. The Elders were now writhing in it. They began to speak, "I can feel the Blacksmiths strength coursing through me." The Woodsman snarled as he watched them for several minutes only for the elders to stop what they were doing and begin to stare at him smiling. There skin red and white. Some even wearing the faces of his comrades as they spectated him. "Those were my brothers!" The Elders just stood there smiling. "Why pretend woodsman that you have roots where none exist?" He brought his axe down hard smashing the floor into splinters,"Quiet Devil!" He was like an animal backed into a corner. "Do you think you warm the hearths of ones who love you? Hoping they will remember you? The Woodsman began to weep, " That is my town and my people. They love me and I them. You are a liar." His axe fell to the ground and he dropped to his knees. He bowed his head. His tears like raidrops fell to the floor. The Elders placed their hands on him and drew close. He opened his eyes in surprise as they embraced him from all sides, "Woodsman, you made it a point to chop down any hope of ever having seedlings of your own, but tonight, we are your seedlings." The Elders stood up and smiled down at him. He could see love and hope in thier eyes. He wiped his tears away. Looking up at the elders he smiled, "thank yo..." Bang, his sentence cut short as his flesh and blood now covered the Elders. They danced around in the cabin. Reveling in the horrid massacre that lay out before them. Hours passed as the celebrated. Their appearances no longer resembling that of Elderly people. Instead, they all looked like young men and women. "That concludes the Peace Ritual." A now young matron stepped forward. She attempted to pull back her hair that was matted with carnage. The others catching their breath as the laughing died down to a murmur. "Let us not forget what they did for us today. By guiding them to peace WE have found strength for years to come!" The people cheered. "Come now Elders let us carry on thier legacy. For our Children, Wives and Husbands, and Our Meadow." The young faces covered in blood, bone, and fat all smiled, patting each other on the back and embracing as the sun broke through the window of the cabin illuminating the path back home.