Your Turn

The cabin in the woods had been abandoned for years, but one night, a candle burned in the window. Over the years, the cabin had been home to squatters, one-night-staying hikers, a raccoon or several, and the like. Locals had said that the cabin had been largely unoccupied since the family that inhabited it had suddenly disappeared in the early 20th century. Versions of the tale blamed consumption, starvation, murder, and even a mysterious curse. The truth, as it often is, was much worse.

Callie and Travis were visiting their grandparents in Vermont, just like they do every summer. The two cousins from opposite coasts only see one another for three weeks out of the year, and so this year they had planned a hiking trip on a portion of Vermont’s Long Trail. Being sixteen and seventeen, respectively, the planning was loose to say the least, but their grandparents signed off on it. Being Travis’ last summer before leaving for college, their grandmother thought it a nice idea to spend some cousin bonding time between them. With bags packed, their grandfather dropped them off in Killington with instructions to pick them up in a few days wherever they called from. Their plan was just to hike North until they wanted to go home, probably about three days.

Before getting on the trail, Callie sprayed her legs and ankles down with a non-toxic, essential oil based insect repellant. “No lyme disease for me, thank you.” Travis, on the other hand, turned his baseball cap backward so it flattened his wavy brown hair upward against his forehead instead of down into his eyes. “I don’t need any of your new agey hippy crap, Cal. I’ve got a flask in my bag and that will take care of any ailments I may find.”

Callie rolled her eyes, and they both set off walking. The sun shining through the leaves marbled the dirt path, and the chirping of birds was a pleasant song to hike to. Now and again, they’d see a squirrel or chipmunk climbing up a tree to stash acorns, or dashing across their trail in search of a place to hide. At the first sign of sun setting, the shadows changing in shape and size and the breeze cooling, the two decided to find a place to stay the night. They had brought some snacks and a deck of cards to pass their evenings in leisure. Travis was certain he had seen a camping shelter just off the trail they could use, so Callie followed him. Travis never joked about resting.

Tripping over surfaced tree roots and trudging through pricker bushes, they eventually found the shelter. However, this was not the lean-to they were anticipating to find along the trail. This small, decrepit building with grey, peeling wooden walls and dusty, warped, and broken windows looked like something you’d see in a stock photo for a creepypasta or on Instagram in a spooky podcast ad. There was a small white birch tree leaning on one side of the rusted metal roof, its leaves clearly fallen all around the cabin in piles blocking the entire perimeter. There were no bootprints going to or away from the clearly abandoned lodging site.

“Seriously, this is what you want us to stay in? A creepy shack? What if it burns down? What if it’s a bear’s den?” Callie crossed her arms and looked to her cousin with disbelief, if not a hint of apprehension. Travis chuckled coarsely under his breath and shook his head.

“Well, we’re here, and it’s here, and it has a roof, so let’s take a look.” He peered inside the window of the front door to ensure it was empty, and then turned the knob slowly, letting the door creek open at it’s own pace. He “oooooo”’ed like a ghost all the while. Callie threw a pinecone at his back, which prompted him to push the door open the rest of the way, exposing a small room that looked almost just like the exterior of the building. The floorboards were grey with dust and uneven, some standing up just a bit, and some bowed in strange places. From where she stood, Callie could make out the form of an old wooden table and two wooden chairs. She decided to step closer and investigate, still not entering behind her cousin.

Inside the cabin, behind the table, was an old pantry cupboard made of barnboard. The punched tin front indicated to her that someone had once called this home, atleast for short occasions. Beside the table was a small wooden rockingchair, the perfect size for a small child of maybe five or six. Beside the front door was an armoire with one door missing, and the other hanging on just one hinge. There was a small fireplace on the wall to the left, and directly before it was a hatch in the floor. Travis reached for the handle.

“Wait! What are you doing?” She warned.

“Oh, I’m just taking a look. I bet this was used to store potatoes or firewood. I won’t go down if I don’t see anything good.” Travis unlatched the small door and lifted it up. “Shit, toss me my flashlight, it’s dark down there!”

Callie stepped inside, paying close attention to her footing on the precarious floor she now knew was not set nicely on the dirt below. As she reached down for the blue LL Bean backpack Travis had tossed aside, she noticed in the armoire a small wooden doll dressed in a ragged dress, perhaps undyed linen or a faded tan cotton. The doll had blonde hair that was tied in two pigtails by small ribbons on either side of her head. The blue eyes of the doll remain open, staring unblinking into the open room. With a shudder, she looked away and found the flashlight she was after.

With the ability to produce light, Travis took a better look down into the cellar. There was an old ladder leading down to the dirt floor, and he could see it had at least what was intended to be a rock foundation along the walls. The space seemed to be empty, but just before he brought his head back up, he noticed a cardboard box in the corner behind the ladder. He quirked an eyebrow at Callie, a telling sign that he had found something of interest, and turned around to climb down the ladder. The bottom rung snapped under his weight, and his foot hit the floor with a thud. Callie gasped, but could still see his head, so she assumed he was fine. That, and his laughter at the oddity of their temporary dwelling. He crouched down to retrieve the box, and with two hands thrust it onto the floor above.

Callie crouched beside the box, looking at it with the faintest of intrigue. The box, like everything else around them, was covered in dust. While Travis returned up the short ladder and latched the cellar door, she carefully opened the top flap of the box with her forefinger and thumb, half expecting a rat or a giant spider to jump out and devour her. Fortunately, there was no rodent of unusual size or baby acromantula. There was, however, a lidless shoebox full of white candles and bronze candlesticks. There was also a white cotton sheet, which had managed to retain most of its integrity. Beneath the sheet, was a folded gameboard. They did not have to open the board to determine the game, because atop of it sat a small wooden object that took Travis a moment to recognize, but Callie knew right away. She groaned through gritted teeth and ran a hand over her face.

“What’s this - oh…” Picking up the planchette, Travis looked around, almost seeming nervous. He would not have admitted it, but the hair on the back of his neck did rise just a bit. Then, a sly smile overtook his face. “Do you want to play a game?” He asked, trying to mimic a movie villain with the same phrase. This was not his typical idea of a fun time, but given the fact that they were already in a spooky cabin in the middle of the woods in Vermont, which was also spooky in and of itself, he thought the worst case scenario is they end up freaking themselves out. Besides, Travis didn’t believe in that hocus pocus stuff anyway. He was very assertive about that any time the topic was brought up.

Callie laughed at his bad impression and stupid facial expressions and took the board from the box. While opening it, the wooden doll on the floor of the armoire caught the corner of her eye. Had it moved closer an inch or so? Of course not, she thought, it’s an old toy that was left here by whoever used the cabin to hunt, or whatever they did there. They set out the board, lit the candles in various places around the cabin, including on the table, the front windowsill, and the fireplace mantel. Placing their two fingers each on the planchette, they looked at one another and nodded. Travis said hello, starting the game. The planchette moved to “Hello”. Travis’ face turned pale.

“Callie! You’re not supposed to move it!”

“Um, I didn’t.” She laughed nervously and asked if there was anyone with them. The planchette moved to “Yes”.

“Okay, now I know you’re playing with me.” Travis was growing increasingly leary, but kept his fingers on the wooden piece. Callie asked another question. The planchette moved. Travis asked a question. The planchette moved.

Callie took a deep breath and asked aloud, “Where are you in the room?” The planchette moved to four letters, spelling out a word.

D. O. L. L.

“Doll? There’s no doll here. Try again, ghost dude.” Travis laughed and looked around the room, seeking assurance. Callie’s breath caught, and she slowly pointed toward the armoire. There, sitting up in the armoire, was an old wooden doll, staring directly at them, blue eyes unblinking. She shot up and ran to the back door, which was closest to where she was seated on the floor. As soon as she touched the cobweb covered knob, it fell to the floor, the clanging sound of the brass making Travis jump out of his skin. This was when he saw the doll. He begged Callie to just sit back down, that he had heard it was bad luck to leave the game without closing, and that he was sure it was just a coincidence. She shook her head, wrapping her arms around her middle, but he persisted. Just as she sat back down and replaced her hands on the game, a cool breeze flowed through the broken front window, blowing out the candle on the table, but not the candle on the sill.

The cousins exchanged worried looks, but both felt a strong urge to continue play. “Where is your family?” Callie asked. The planchette spelled out the word “dirt”. “You mean they’re buried? Where are they buried?” The board answered “under”.

“Under this cabin?” Travis asked without thinking.

“Yes.”

“How did they die?” Callie asked cautiously.

“Me.”

Both Callie and Travis looked over at the doll. They could swear there was now a slight grin spread across its ancient face. They noticed, for the first time, a yellowed newspaper laying underneath her. Callie moved to pick it up, as if her legs and arms were being controlled by someone other than herself. She read the headline to herself, and then turned the paper around to be read by Travis.

“Family of Three Found Dead in Cabin”

She read on, this time so she could be heard. “A family of three, a man and woman and their small daughter, were found dead in what appears to be their family home in the woods near Chittenden. Found originally by men working to establish the new Long Trail, authorities state that the two parents appeared to have been stabbed, and the child may have starved or frozen to death. No weapon was found, and no identifications have been released at this time.” It was dated April of 1911.

“How did this get here?” Callie wondered aloud. The planchette moved under Travis’ fingers to spell out the word “friend.” The wind blew again, extinguishing the flame from the fireplace mantel, but not from the windowsill. Again acting not of her own volition, Callie unfolded the white sheet they had found in the box. Inside was what appeared to be an old hunting knife, the blade reddened with rust. She flipped it over, to find that the redness on the blade was not rust. Rust flakes or comes off in a dust. This sheet was stained red above and below where the knife had laid. The wind blew again, breaking off a fragment of glass from the already broken window. The shatter as the glass hit the floor caused Callie to drop the knife, cutting her hand in the process.

Travis lept to his feet and to her side, examining the wound. The wind blew again, extinguishing another candle. Now, the rear portion of the cabin was engulfed in shadows, while the front still glowed dimly. The doll’s face was illuminated, this time the grin was unmistakable. The blue eyes on her wooden face took on a more sinister hue. The paper blew open, and in red streaky letters were painted the words, “Your turn.” Callie closed her fist and held it against her chest tightly, trying to stop the trickle of blood.

“Our turn for what? To ask a question?” Travis asked in a stone-cold tone, clearly trying to pretend he wasn’t terrified. His ashen face and trembling chin, however, gave him away. He did not even touch the planchette. The board read, “Die.” As soon as the word registered in both their minds, the remaining candles were blown out, save the one singular candle used to illuminate the ouija board. The planchette was know moving in a figure-eight across the board, back and forth and up and down. Callie screamed as Travis fell to the floor. In the gust of wind, another shard of glass had come loose, and was lodged squarely in the center of his chest. She knelt beside him and tried to call for help with the phone in her pocket, but there was no signal.

Just then, Callie heard a small girl’s voice dancing in the cold wind. She did her best to ignore, although she knew she would not make it out. The voice repeated the same thing over and over again. Trying to be free, Callie dragged her unconscious cousin - or, shit, was he dead? - down into the cellar, hoping to find an escape from the horror filling the space above. The last things she heard were the voice of the child repeating the words “Your turn” and the slam of the cellar door onto her head, before complete darkness.

The cabin in the woods had been abandoned for years, but one night, a candle burned in the window. Over the years, the cabin had been home to squatters, one-night-staying hikers, a raccoon or several, and two wooden dolls resting in the armoire beside the door.