Best Friends Forever

The cabin in the woods had been abandoned for years, but one night, a candle burned in the window. The honey toned flicker on the emerald algae-stained glass, seemed somewhat inviting as the last light of dawn sank behind the trees. The once azure blue sky peeking through the fresh and luscious canopy had become a faded greyish-lilac shade and the trees had merged into one collective jet-black silhouette. The thick, warm air of the day was replaced with a cold clamminess that made the palms feel stone cold to the touch. Of course, as inviting as the warm little fairy-tale cabin seemed, not one decent soul living in Bedshire would lay their hands on its worn wooden frame, let alone enter it. The person inside was an outsider.

Everyone’s grandparents had a story about how they played in the cabin and everyone’s grandparents had a story about why you should never visit the cabin.

None of their stories matched up and none of their stories were very plausible either, apart from my grandma’s.

In the summer of 1950, Gran’s best friend – Alice, was dared to climb the tallest pine tree they could find, by none other than Albert Stone. Albert was a “cheeky chappy”, a wild boy who knew the woods like the back of his hand. Although, they had only met Albert that summer, it was as though they’d known him for years. They knew that whenever they visited the woods, Albert would be waiting for them there, in the cabin. Little did Gran know that on one fateful day of tree climbing and foolish dares, it would be the last time she saw Albert or Alice.

When the police filed a report into Alice’s death, Gran explained that it was an accident, that he didn’t mean to shake the branch, but Albert, who she described in great detail was nowhere to be seen. The police searched the small town and beyond looking for him, but not one person was identified by his description, and no one else had seen him in the cabin. They concluded that Albert must have been a false memory, Gran’s way of coping with the trauma of losing her best friend at such a young age.

To this day, Gran tells us not to go near the cabin in the woods. Understandably, she associates the cabin with Alice’s death and the eery disappearance of Albert that summer.

“Why was there firewood outside of the cabin?” asked Grace “It’s probably some hunters” answered Job confidently, “They don’t care about the old folk-tales, they’re out for a hunt and no one will stop them”. “I guess so, she answered, it just seems… “odd” interrupted Arjun “that they’re using it after all of the things that happened”. “Well, if there was a cryptopet in there, you can guarantee one of us would be catching it right?” I said. We all looked at each other waiting for an answer. Job broke the silence “Well, we’re off to get the next one, the app says there’s one nearby and I can hear laughing so there must be other people searching for it!”. “Let’s go” Grace exclaimed.

As we searched for the next virtual pet – the cryptogator, we heard shouts telling us to turn right. We passed the cabin with its padlocked door off the hinges and turned “right” and “right again” as the shouts directed us. Grace caught some pixies on our way back, but that wasn’t the jackpot we were searching for. We decided to follow some footprints that ran parallel to ours and find where they had gone.

“Odd” Arjun exclaimed. “Oh come on, Arjun, not everything is odd” said Job “But this is…” he said. We examined the footprints until they came to an end… right in the middle of the path.

I felt a cool, uneasy breeze brush past my neck causing a shiver down my spine and my arm hairs to stand on end.

“Stop playing games”, I said to Job, as I figured he had created the footprints.

“I didn’t make those footprints, or those ones”. As he pointed to the ground, there was a quiet shuffle in the mud and gradually, a small shoe-shaped indent appeared in the earth next to mine. With no words at all, we all bolted back to the clearing.

The next day, none of us spoke of what had happened, we wanted to forget it, and I was convincing myself it was a dream.

We figured that the girl shouting to us yesterday might have been in on the prank so today we ignored her teasing shouts to “turn back”. We also didn’t want to acknowledge the boy's shouts to go in the same direction we were heading but this seemed like the only other route. We turned “left” past the window of the cabin that appeared to be broken, and “left again” past an old tree stump.

The path to the cryptogator became narrow, so narrow it engulfed us from either side. The merciless brambles clawed at our clothes; the nettles stung our shins like tongues of razor blades as we tore through the thickets to reach the ... I screamed so loudly it roused the birds from their canopies. We all stopped…dead in our tracks. I looked up to see Job peering ten foot down at me, in tremendous shock, his mouth agape.

“Why did you push me?” I wailed. “I didn’t” said Job shakily. “Then who did?” I answered. Grace looked at me, it was though all of the blood had left her face. “He did!”. Just then, a small, bedraggled boy appeared behind me, “Victoria, it’s me, why did you stop coming to the cabin?”. The boy took a tight grip of my wrist and started to pull me down the bank into the stream. "I'm not Victoria, I'm Amelia, now let me go!”.

It was then I realised who this boy was. “Come to the stream and we can play forever” he cried, with tears in his eyes. He was trying to push me into the current. The water was rushing rapidly, it roared so much that I could barely hear anything else. “It’s Albert” Arjun shouted. Albert paused: “So you do remember me?”.

Instantaneously, the girl who had directed us the day before, appeared, “Let her go Albert, that’s not Victoria!”. My body was drenched in freezing, musty river water, I grasped at the roots of a riverbank tree with one hand. My knuckles were white and my fingers were numb. I clutched Albert’s shirt in my other wet, slippery hand. “Come on Alice, play along, I dare you!” Albert chanted. This was it. I held my breath. Another hand pulled at my arm…