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Have You Seen My Father?

A Spooky Short Story

By A.M CooperPublished 2 years ago 20 min read
2

“The cabin in the woods had been abandoned for years, but one night, a candle burned in the windows.” The dim light of the campfire illuminated around the teens faces as they sat there and stared at each other, mocking grins on their faces. They knew they were in for another generic ghost story. The wind suddenly whistled through the trees, causing the fire to crackle for a moment as the seconds passed.

“Come on Derrick, another ghost story?”, he slightly chuckled as the words came out. “I’m tired of your stories man. It’s always the same stuff. Ghost this, or serial killer that.” He put the beer can up to his lips and took a long swig, a few drops of warm beer falling on his shirt. “Gimme something new.”

“You’re right John. I’ve been slacking the past few months, but I got something new. Something that I can assure you is way more interesting than ghosts or serial killers.” John suddenly sobered up in his chair, sitting up straight and correcting his drunken posture. He chugged his beer, reaching down into the cooler to grab another. With a loud crack, he popped the metallic tab.

“I’m listening. Those two are already passed out. They got tired of your stories an hour ago. Or maybe that was the tequila.” John began to laugh to himself for a moment, catching himself after he noticed Derrick's beady eyes staring at him through his glasses. “Sorry, Sorry. I’m listening.”

“As I was saying, The cabin in the woods had been abandoned for years, but one night, a candle burned in the windows. This nature reserve was once the home of a small mining camp that was located not far from here. Their foreman would push them hard and fast. They would dig and dig and dig, reaping metal and other precious things from the earth. But one day, they dug too deep. The cavern they were in collapsed. Since they were so far out here, no one knew they were gone until it was too late. They tried as hard as they could to break through the rock blocking their way out but before they knew it, they were out of oxygen. Out of the one thing they couldn't spare: time.” The wind once again tore its way through the camp, sending small embers in every direction.

John looked at Derrick for a moment, a drunken grin on his face with a touch of fear. “How’d you do that?” Derrick laughed to himself for a moment, shrugging his shoulders as he covered his mouth to cough.

“The power of a good story I suppose.” There was a slight uneasiness hidden in the lines of Derrick's face, but he shook it off. It was just the booze, he had to tell himself in his own head. A dozen beers does wonders for the imagination.

“Anyways, this mining camp was run by a man whose name has been lost to the history books for decades. The camp cannot be found except by those who know where it was. It is buried deep in the forest a few miles from here, but here’s the part that locals can’t get over. There have been dozens of reports of an abandoned cabin hidden in the middle of the woods, most of the time in random locations. Some report it by the creek to the north, or some say it's always in the middle of a field to the south, but one fact always remains the same. It always happens at night, around 1:37am.” John's face had a certain sense of curiosity underneath the drunken burps and hiccups. He looked down at his smart watch, his eyes slowly looking back up from its bright LED screen.

“It’s…… 1:34 right now.” The crackling of the fire is the only noise around the pair for a moment as the wind stops blowing, the snores of the other two boys disturbing the silence every few seconds. John begins to scratch his eyes for a moment. “Fuck, I’m tired man, We should call it yeah?” Derrick begins to laugh to himself for a moment, pointing out John’s obvious stress in his face. “What the fuck you laughing at man? Boring story.”

“Don’t be a pussy. It’s just a coincidence right? Isn’t that what you always tell me?” John looks at Derrick for a moment, his drunken eyes trying as hard as they can to stay focused on him. John sighs and nods his head, leaning back in his chair as he takes another sip of beer. He reaches behind him and grabs a wooden log, throwing it onto the fire. The fire sizzles for a moment before engulfing the log, sending embers into the night sky.

“These campers always tell the same story. Around 1:30 every night, they hear a young girl's voice calling for her father. It seems to bounce off the trees around them, giving them no real direction where it’s coming from. But then through the space between the trees, they see the dim orange light of a fire burning.” Derrick takes a sip of his beer, setting it in the cup holder on his chair. He glances at John. He is gripping his beer harder than usual, the metal on the sides of the can indented ever so slightly.

“Most assume it is just another camper wandering through the woods, or dismiss it as nothing more than an illusion caused by their own minds. A few have ventured into the never ending darkness between the trees and found a cabin, a single candle shining through a broken window.” The slight gust pushes through the campsite, pushing leaves and embers past the tents next to them.

“From what I’ve heard, they just think it's nothing more than kids playing tricks on them. More often than not, they just go back to camp and return to the comfort of their beds for the night. But they can’t shake the feeling.” Derrick grabs the can from its cup holder and finishes his beer, tossing the aluminum can into the trash can behind his chair. “That feeling of dread every person gets when they stare into the endless darkness of the forest around them. That feeling that you’re always being watched. The park rangers always check the area the morning after, but never find anything. It’s as if it doesn't exist at all” John and Derrick stare at the crackling fire in front of them for a moment. The wind starts to whistle between the trees above them, shaking the limbs for a few seconds.

“The urban legend says that the daughter of one of the miners was left alone for days in her cabin, wondering what fate had fallen on the men that she had grown so accustomed to in her young age. Some legends say she’s ten or eleven, some say she’s a teenager. It doesn't matter anyways so I’ll continue.” The flame sizzles for a moment, cutting Derrick's story off for a few seconds. He stares at it, a certain sense of uneasiness in his eyes. John looks at Derrick, the drunken stress of the never ending darkness around them on his face.

“Anyways, she would leave a single candle lit in the window to guide them home. But, after so many days of not seeing her father or any of the men return she knew something was wrong, so she prayed long and hard to the sky. She prayed everyday hoping something would answer. Anything that could help her father and the others. Well, apparently something did answer her calls. No one knows what was said, or who answered her calls but one thing remains in every version of the story. Something evil did. Something that had been hidden from the world for centuries.” John suddenly stirs in his chair.

“Yeah, ya know after that one I gotta say I’m good.” John looks down at the almost-full beer can in his hands. “I’m drunk. You’re drunk. Here we are scaring ourselves.”

“I mean you have to hear the ending at least right? Come on. The torment is almost over. You said you wanted something new, so don’t bitch out now.” Derrick begins to laugh to himself again, mocking John with a crying face.

“Alright, alright you dick. Finish your story. I’m trying to get to bed.”

“Good man.” Derrick casually raises a hand to John to fistbump him, who halfheartedly raises his own. “The legends say she now roams these woods, searching for her father and the men she had grown up with. They say the voice is like that of a siren. Beautiful and hypnotizing to men and women alike, calling you deeper and deeper into the forest. It’s why we have so many missing persons in this nature reserve. The authorities will tell you it’s a bear or some other animal, but I think it’s something much worse.”

Derricks continued to stare at the campfire. John threw his beer into the flames, causing steam to mix with the smoke as the liquid slowly boiled away. John glances at his watch. 1:36. As he looks back up he notices that Derrick is standing up, staring into the woods behind them.

Something can be heard in the air. A whisper hidden in the gusts of wind. John starts to stand up, his eyes rocking back and forth in the dim light of the campsite. But it was there. There was a voice in the wind. It didn’t seem to be anything more than mumbles, but there were words hidden in the wind that John couldn't understand.

“Derrick what are you-.” He stopped, frozen with fear as his eyes realized what he’s seeing. Nestled in the woods behind them is the dim orange light of a flame. Derricks seems driven to it, unable to control his body as he moves towards the tree line that their campsite sat on. “Derrick man, what the fuck are you doing?” Before John could say another word he was walking towards the light.

“Wake up John, wake the fuck up. This is just a nightmare. Too many ghost stories before we passed out.” John closed his eyes for a moment and thought hard, only to open them and realize it was real. Derrick had made his way into the dense brush between the campsite and the orange light in front of them, stomping his way through the underbrush as the seconds passed. “Derrick!” John began to panic as his friend walked deeper and deeper into the darkness.

John drunkenly stumbled over to his sleeping friends and nudged their shoulders, trying as hard as he could to wake them up. They both opened their eyes and mumbled for a moment before falling back into their drunken slumber. John was alone in the silence of the crackling fire, Derricks footsteps quickly fading out of earshot. The whispers were getting louder, trying to pull John closer and closer to the structure. Derrick was gone. John walked over to the edge of the treeline and stared out towards the orange light.

There was a cabin, barely visible in the low light of the moon. It was no more than thirty or forty feet in front of John, calling out to him from the darkness. John began to walk through the shrubbery between him and the cabin, dodging branches as he went. He inched closer and closer until finally it was in view. It sat in the middle of a small clearing, its rotted wood standing out amongst the trees around it. Derrick could be seen entering the front of the cabin, the wooden door creaking as he swung it open.

“Derrick!” John began to sprint forward towards the cabin. As he approached it, the air around him seemed to stand still. There was no noise. Not the wind going through the trees, or the bugs calling to each other in the night. Complete silence. The candle could be seen sitting on a lonely table in the middle of the room as John glanced through the window. Derrick was sitting in a chair next to it, unmoving as the seconds passed. John reached forward and grabbed the rusted metal handle of the door, pausing for a moment before he turned it. In one motion he turned the metal knob and entered the cabin.

The world seemed to hold its breath for a moment. John panicked as he looked around. He wasn’t in a cabin at all, but some sort of tunnel. Fear began to set in. His eyes danced from the stone walls around him, turning around for a moment to look for the rotten wooden door. It was gone. There was simply a wall of stone rubble standing between him and a way out. John glanced down the long winding walls of rock that sat in front of him.

“Hello? Derrick? Anyone?” His voice seemed to bounce from wall to wall endlessly in front of him, the echo trailing off into the distance in front of him. A young girl's voice could be heard in the distance, barely audible over the sounds of the torches crackling around John. There were tools scattered everywhere. Pickaxes, helmets with broken torches attached to them, and everything else you’d expect in an old mine. John began to walk forward, noticing the footprints in the dirt underneath him. As he rounded a rocky corner, he was met with the source of the voice he had heard echoing down the mine shaft.

Nestled around a group of bodies was a small girl. She was wearing a white dress that was covered in red and brown spots. She was holding onto one of the bodies, gripping it as tightly as she could. The sounds of crying could be heard, whispers on the stillness of the air. She turned and glared into John’s eyes, an endless anger in the muscles of her face. She began to stand up, slowly releasing the body in her arms. Her iris was an endless black surrounded by bloodshot pupils. She seemed to stare right into John’s eyes, right into his soul. A raspy voice suddenly filled the suffocating air of the mine shaft.

“It told me I could see my father again! Why did it lie to me? Why would it answer my prayers only to rip them away. All this death, and for what?” Blood suddenly began to flow from her eyes, dripping onto the sand below. “Help me! Please help! I just wanted to see my father again. I never wanted this! My eyes won’t stop itching! Help me please!” She began to scream, the loud noise bouncing from the walls of the mineshaft back to John. He began to back up slowly as the blood continued to fall from her eyes, staining the white of her dress. John could only stand there and cover his ears as the noise slowly drove him mad, squinting his eyes trying to escape whatever nightmare he was stuck in. Suddenly the screaming stopped.

John opened his eyes. He was in the cabin. Derrick could be seen in front of him, rocking back and forth in the chair. The entirety of the cabin was covered in a thick layer of dust and grime that seemed to be an inch thick on every surface. A small bed could be seen on one side, and a bigger one opposite of that. A faded family painting could be seen hanging on the wall above the fireplace. The little girl could be seen sitting beneath two parents whose faces had been scratched out by something sharp.

“Derrick.” Alex whispered for a moment, his ears listening to anything stirring around him. The shadows around him seemed to dance as Derrick rocked back and forth. John suddenly noticed that Derrick's hands were moving up and down from his face to his lap. “Derrick man, what the fuck is going on?” As John stood next to Derrick he finally noticed what he was doing. Derrick was scratching his eyes out of his sockets. Red blood and a white liquid were falling down his cheeks onto his shirt. Tears began to form in John’s eyes as he stared at his friend. He began to slowly step back, the room around him closing in on him as the edges of his vision started turning black.

He bumped into something suddenly. Something that was cold and wet. John slowly turned his body and was met with the endless black eyes of the little girl, staring up at him. Her brow was flexed and her eyes were angry as she stared into his. A small voice suddenly filled the room around him.

“Have you seen my father?” John could feel something behind his eyes trying to force its way out. He began to rub them for a moment, trying as hard as he could to get whatever it was out. Derrick began to cry behind him. It quickly turned into a scream as the seconds passed and he dug deeper and deeper into his face. The girl simply stared at John as his fingers dug deeper and deeper into his eye socket, blood and white liquid pouring out as the minutes seemed to drag on. John stumbled over and took a seat across from Derrick. The two sat there and continued to scratch away at their eyes, the little girl's voice repeating the same words in their heads for the rest of time.

“Have you seen my father?”

Epilogue

“There is no reason to suspect foul play. We are working closely with the park rangers and local authorities to make sure that these boys come home. If you have any information about these or other disappearances within the nature reserve, please contact my office. Thank you for your time and god bless.” The flashing of cameras is seen on the officer's face as he slowly steps off the podium and out of view. A smaller, more skittish looking man approaches the podium and adjusts his glasses.

“I can answer some questions at this time.” A few reporters raised their hands, their pens and notebooks at the ready. He scans the room and points toward one in the back, a younger woman.

“Hi, Sarah Collins from channel 7 news out of Atlanta. Your town has seen a drastic increase in the number of campers seemingly disappearing into thin air. You have told everyone that it is simply a bear or other wild animal, but your locals say it is some sort of supernatural phenomenon. What do you have to say about this?” The man scratches his head for a moment, looking at his own notes.

“While I myself cannot comment on the supernatural nature of these cases, word of mouth in a small town is a powerful tool. While we have considered that there is something more at work in the nature reserve, there is no evidence to suggest that we have a supernatural or an extraterrestrial problem.” The woman writes down a few sentences on her notepad, a sour look on her face.

“But what kind of animal can pull two fully grown men to their deaths without any-” The man raises his hand for a moment.

“Until we find bodies Ms. Collins, death seems like a harsh word to use, yes? Show some courtesy towards the family’s of those that are missing. This isn’t Atlanta. These are our friends and our neighbors. Our brothers and sisters. Until a body is found, we will not be assuming anything even for you.” The young woman is stunned by the comment for a moment, her brow flexing as she glances at her notes in her hands.

“My apologies. So, do you have any ideas about the kind of animal that could do something such as this? Such a large amount over the decades doesn’t raise any suspicions to you or your office?”

“We suspect it is a cougar or a group of cougars who have decided to hunt humans who enter that part of the reserve. As the sheriff has suggested in the past, it is wise to carry some sort of firearm for these types of situations. Deterrence is key. I have time for one more person.” He looks towards the other side of the room, picking a chubby man with a beard. The man stands up in his chair, the weight of his body pushing his chair back with a screech.

“Sorry Bill.” The man nods his head, motioning the gentleman to continue. “My question to you is have we ruled out the mining camps that litter these mountains? No doubt people get curious and go places that are inherently dangerous, even when they are in their prime. The mine shafts that litter this area have killed dozens in the past few decades.”

“Yes, we have tried to close up as many as we can over the Sheriff's time in office, but it appears that there are still many out there. Unfortunately in this case, the boys were dozens of miles from any known mining camp. Now, who’s to say that they didn’t somehow stumble into one? It isn’t out of the question. At this time we are still exploring all possible outcomes that will help bring some of these people home. That is all the questions I have time for today. If you have any leads, please call us.”

Bill began to head towards the double doors to his left, rushing through them as fast as he could to get away from the reporters. The sheriff was waiting for him on the other side, a cup of coffee in both his hands.

“Here Bill. Thanks for handling that bullshit for me. I’ve never been good at all the conferences and all that official business. Especially about people in our own town. I knew those families, Bill. This has to stop.”

“How do we stop something we can’t understand Tony? There is nothing to suggest that this will ever end. It has been going on for centuries. It’s a part of this town. No matter how many mine shafts we seal, or towns we burn to the ground this keeps happening. We’re running out of places to look.”

“Well, last I heard my men had found something. A small mining camp nestled deep in the reserve. It’s only a few miles from where those boys disappeared. This is our only chance it seems. One last hurrah before I hang this hat up.” Bill looks at him for a moment, his eyes twitching at the thought of going back into those woods.

“When was the last time you heard from them?”

“Last night around midnight. They’re gonna set up the rest of the camp and I’m gonna head up there in an hour or two. Come tomorrow morning, we’re all gonna split into groups of two and search the area. If there is some big cat or bear out there killing folks, I’m gonna end it myself.” The sheriff takes a long sip of coffee, throwing his cup in the trash next to them.

“You haven’t heard from them since last night? Doesn’t that strike you as strange.” There is a certain sense of fear hidden in Bill’s voice. He stares down at his coffee cup, his hands shaking ever so slightly.

“Nah man. Those country hicks love being out there. No bear or cougar of any kind is gonna stop them. I’ll see you tomorrow Bill. Wish us luck out there. We’re gonna hang the sum bitch up on the wall when I get back!” He begins to laugh to himself as he walks down the hallway towards the exit.

“It’s not a cougar or a bear that has me worried.”

Horror
2

About the Creator

A.M Cooper

Teacher by Day, Writer by Night

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