Cloaked

The cabin in the woods had been abandoned for years, but one night, a candle burned in the window. It was said; that an apparition resided amongst the foliage from time to time, occupying the cabin on its return. The small town some miles away knew to stay clear of the old cabin, but hikers passing through the area never heard of such tales passed down from generation to generation. So it happened, on that particular night, when the moon bathed the surroundings in its pearlescent glow and not an animal whispered through the tall grass, the hikers came across what first appeared to be an abandoned dwelling.

His legs felt like jelly and muscles quivering after lugging his pack over uneven terrain. Michael spotted a lone log cabin in the distance. Relieved, he turned towards his companions, who didn't appear to be in better shape. He said, "Hey guys and gal, look up ahead. Seem like we found our camping site for the night."

Labored breathing was the only response he received. Greg, standing six and a half feet tall, and with 260 pounds of dense musculature, Michael thought he would be in the best shape possible for their yearly trek. Greg filled his starved lungs with lifegiving oxygen. In between breaths, he said, "Great...about time...I couldn't go...another...mile."

Erica laughed, unfazed by the twelve-mile hike, "Geez, Greg. If anyone heard you, they’d think we didn't take breaks, fed, and watered you."

"I'm not a dog! You try carrying my bulk; then you can give us your opinion." Greg replied with an annoyed scowl distorting his features.

"You could stand to lose..."

"That's enough!" Shouted Shawn. Calmly he said, "We've listened to you two throw insults back and forth for the past three days." Sighing, "Look, we're all tired and need to rest. You don’t need to make it worse. Let's just find a spot. OK? Great."

Suitably chastised, they made their way to the derelict cabin in the distance. Michael, as their leader, was the first to hear the gentle, rhythmic lapping. Bypassing the building and in his excitement, he failed to notice the candle in the window, housing a small flame dancing at its tip. At the rear were a lake and a small pier, perfect for diving. They chucked their gear haphazardly on the ground while their clothing soon met the same fate.

---

Dripping water and shivering in the cool night air, using only the glow of the half-moon and their flashlights, a campfire was assembled. Sated and lazing on their sleeping mats, Erica remarked. "Hey, think we should use the cabin instead of sleeping in the open tonight? We don't usually have this opportunity while hiking."

Directing his flashlight, Greg illuminated the structure and found it lacking. "Naw, not a good idea. The roof looks ready to cave in."

"I gotta agree. No way I'd sleep peacefully anticipating being bludgeoned to death by collapsing support beams," was Shawn's input.

"Thanks for the visual," Michael sarcastically replied.

As each one spoke, Erica's face morphed into a disgusted sneer. "You've got to be kidding me. A good place, not standing 40ft away, and you all refuse to use it?"

She snatched her sleeping bag and one of the flashlights and stomped her way to the cabin while ignoring her friend's admonishments not to be crazy. Testing her weight on each step, she approached the door; on surprisingly silent hinges, the door swung open. In wide-eyed amazement, the open floor plan was well decorated. No impending collapse of the roof, solid floor planks, furniture made of handcrafted wood, and a bearskin rug.

Erica decided to keep her discovery to herself, serves them right. The only other oddity than the interior not matching the exterior was the low flame resting on the windowsill which she attempted to extinguish but to no avail. Shrugging, she muttered, "Odd. Well, it's not casting too much light, and we'll be gone before morning anyway." She convinced herself to remain. For one night, she thought, I won't have to worry over mosquitoes ringing in my ears or their stinging bites.

Outside, the rest of her company bedded down for the night.

---

An incessant hoot, hoot, hoot penetrated the sleep fog that shrouded Greg from the outside world. Groaning he turned over, to blearily look around, hoping to find the source of the disturbance and probably knock it out of whichever tree it was perched on. Through blurred slitted eyes, he tried to observe the others in the low light cast by the banked fire and found them sleeping soundly. He figured the hooting was a figment of his exhausted slumber. Only, as he made to find oblivion once again, he saw a figure standing over Shawn. He, she, it, he did not know. The figure was draped in liquid night that pooled and undulated along the forest floor, not one part of the body was visible.

Icy fingers of fear tiptoed along his spine, raising the fine hairs along its path and settled like a vise around his throat. Incapable of crying out, he watched between one blink and the next as the specter materialized at Michael's side. Ever so slowly, the hooded head rotated 180 degrees to peer back at Greg. Under the cowl, no light dissolved the inky black, not by the dying flames of the campfire, nor by the light of the moon. Just then, a crash emanated from the cabin. The sound rebounded off the surface of the lake, creating a shockwave of echoes. Shawn and Michael began to stir.

Greg regaining his equilibrium, spun to face the cabin only to remember their uninvited guest was at his back, but he, she, it was nowhere to be seen. It left a sound like rustling feathers in its wake.

A scream shattered the returned silence as if it had never been. "Shit, Erica!" Greg realized. By then, Shawn and Michael were wide awake. With no time to explain, Greg motioned them to follow. Not needing to be told twice, they scrambled from their bags to race alongside Greg back to the cabin. This time, the front steps crumbled beneath their feet, from their vantage point, no matter how hard they banged, shoved, or kicked the door, it remained firmly shut.

Michael thought to gain access using the window but then noticed the flame blazing brightly at the end of the wick. No wax dripped, and no wisp of smoke floated towards the ceiling. However, more noticeable, a hulking figure loomed in the background near a cornered and trembling Erica.

She caught sight of the guys but was unwilling to break whatever tether kept the creature at bay. Through snot, unrelenting tears, and lips that trembled, she silently mouthed, HELP MEEE.

Impossibly fast, the creature whirled to frame the window in darkness, causing the three men to scramble away from the windowsill. The closer the creature got to the window, the more the creature's visage was revealed. For eyes, two large black pools of liquid coal took up the majority of its face, surrounded by a snow-white landscape, and what appeared to be a golden barrier of plumage bracketing its face. Transfixed, they watched as a ribbed four-fingered hand, tipped in razor-sharp lethal talons, reach out to extinguish the flame.

Another scream split the air within the confines of the cabin in the resulting void. Collectively, they attempted everything they could to gain entry.

Depleted, Shawn took in large gulps of air before suggesting trying to find help. Greg distraught, Michael downhearted, and Shawn determined, found the small town; nestled a few miles away. However, the residents knew nothing could be done and discouraged the visitors from returning. Dismissing their advice, the three returned to the cabin and found an empty lot, not even an outline of where the structure sat.

---

Over the years, they went back, going so far as to arrive on the exact day, at the exact hour they initially found the cabin. It was a wasted effort, they knew, but their memories and consciousness would not let them rest. Unfortunately, the cabin never made an appearance again, at least not in their lifetime.