Judgement in Cabin #10

"The cabin in the woods had been abandoned for years, but one night, a candle burned in the window".

Dante Alighieri's epic poem Divine Comedy, begins with Inferno. Then follows on with Purgatorio and Paradiso.

Fire. Purgatory. Paradise or Hellfire?

Hell in the Inferno are nine concentric circles of torment located within the EARTH. In this realm those who have rejected spiritual values and yield to the desires of the flesh, who perverts natural appetites and turns to violence and wanton destruction will be tormented. So too will those who perverted their human intellect to fraud or malice against their fellow men. Guided by the ancient Roman poet Virgil, Dante's journey through hell begins with the Inferno.

In the fourteenth century there were nine circles of hell on earth. With the passing of time and development of technology and beyond by the human race, more circles have been formed. Concentric circles of hell have evolved and formed with the assistance of wickedness and evil perverting the minds of the damned on earth who open their hearts and souls to the ever present dangers of corruption, immorality and depravity.

The cabin located in the woods of the Alighieri mountain range of North America, aptly named for it's thickly wooded overgrowth and extreme difficulty in navigating one's way into its abysmal undergrowth, is the tenth concentric circle of hell. It was impossible to get a proper aerial view of this range. The trees grew dense, dark and thick, with huge trunks and great gnarled roots reaching deep into the earth. From out of these trunks, huge tentacled protuberances, eerily resembling enormous, contorted and twisted human-like limbs reached upwards towards the heavens. In this shadowy land of lush branches and treacherous undergrowth, it is wise to have a tool, an axe or machete will suffice to clear the way while navigating the sometimes saturated and muddy trails.

The man walking here, angling his flashlight this way and that in the dark, was reflecting on the loneliness of the place. Were it not for the moonlight he could not have found his way. Luckily he had been here many times before and found landmarks to guide his way. The dark foreboding junglelike landscape reflected his mood and he felt quite at home here. The gigantic trees towered above his head easily dwarfing his six foot frame, and the nocturnal life was astir with ghostly and sinister sounds. The otherworldly shadows would have deterred any other person except this great brute, whose heart was black as night as cold as ice.

John Gainsby Thorne was a heartless, cold and calculating murderer. How many had succumbed to his axe over the years he had forgotten. He had lost count a long time ago. As a child he had loved to torment animals and prey on the vulnerable in his neighborhood. He had been disliked for his bullying nature all through school. His parents had tried everything to make his life comfortable in the hopes that they could change his wild and cruel nature, all to no avail. As he grew to adulthood he seemed to calm down somehow, or maybe he had learned to hide his deeds from the eyes of man. John had met Polly and fallen in love, got married and had a beautiful daughter whom he named Hope. For deep in his heart he hoped that they were his lifeline to soothe the monster that he knew dwelled deep within the recesses of his soul.

It had worked for a little while. For a short blissful six years John had been happy.~

It was a long tedious trudge through the thick woods to reach the cabin, but once there no one would find him. Just him and the quiet, except for the sounds of the forest's many varied scurrying denizens, of course, and the chance to plan his revenge upon the others who were responsible for turning him into the bitter broken man that he had become.

John G. Thorne was a disillusioned man. A wanted man.

He smiled contentedly, not unlike the cat who just got the juicy mouse, as if a pleasant memory had just flashed across his mind. Earlier, he had been heading for the thick woods up beyond the foggy waters when he chanced upon the campers sitting around a cozy fire, roasting marshmallows. Marshmallows! What gave them the right to be here when his child was not. His anger and rage, which were already burning, took control of his reason and he ran headlong into the laughing unsuspecting campers, swinging his axe with such vengeance and madness, the people sitting upon the logs never stood a chance. There were at least eight of them. He never took the time to note the correct number.

In complete numbness and shock, they sat there, unable to move at the sight of this great lummox of a man, over six feet tall and two hundred pounds of solid muscle wielding a great axe and screaming bloody murder. By the time a few of them started to run, it was already too late. John caught up with them and knocked them down, butchering them where they fell. There was blood and destruction everywhere. Body parts, detritus and fragments covered the campsite, while blood soaked marshmallows littered the ground. Oddly, not a single person was saved, it was as if they were mesmerized into statuesque stillness, allowing their deaths at the hands of the devil himself.

Suddenly though, unknown to him, a pair of eyes opened close by him. Mary had been knocked unconscious, she was covered in so much blood one could not tell the difference between her and the number of dead bodies. The horror that registered in her eyes at seeing the great big ogre of a man covered in the blood of her sister and friends almost made her puke. She closed her eyes and willed herself to remain quiet.

Calmly and coldly, John stooped by a head with eyes opened in death and staring blankly up at the sky. He picked up a blood soaked marshmallow and stuck it in his mouth. Wiping his axe on the shirt of the corpse he gingerly slung it back into his pack upon his back. He smiled, which to anyone looking at him, was more like a pained grimace. His anger was sated for the night. Turning his head, he wiped his mouth upon his shoulder. He would get a good night's sleep tonight up at the cabin.

He began to feel fatigued and quickened his pace a little. As he finally caught sight of the shack, his heart skipped a beat and he stopped dead in his tracks.

A candle had been lit in the window. It's glow so unnaturally bright and other worldly that it sent a chill running down his spine.

Should he give in to that sense of foreboding deep within the recesses of his mind and just turn and run.

Who could have lit a candle? No one else knew the cabin was here. John had no idea who built the cabin, or how it got built given the thickness of the woods surrounding it. It somehow appeared as if it had just dropped out of the sky into the spot where it stood. The cabin itself was nestled between two towering horse chestnut trees, and appeared to be cradled in the loving outstretched arms of the other equally large trees surrounding it. A variety of smaller trees lined each side of a small walkway leading to two narrow steps attached to a wooden porch. The limbs of the trees appeared menacing in the fragmented moonlight that somehow seeped through the thick canopy blanketing the forest.

Pondering the situation for a moment, John turned his flashlight off and climbed the steps cautiously. He drew near to the window and peered inside, neither seeing nor hearing anyone. Moving to the door, he carefully opened it and stepped inside.

"Hello", his raspy voice was barely audible in the stillness of the cabin. Clearing his throat and still oddly curious, he checked around, there was no one there. He didn't have to look that far, the cabin was small and sparsely furnished. A small bed, a small wooden table and chair and little odds and ends were all that made up the drab decor of the interior of the cabin. Who had lit the candle, he wondered. It was quite puzzling. He was exhausted. Flinging his pack in a corner, he threw himself onto the bed, falling asleep almost immediately, pondering the candle in the window.

John sat bolt upright. He was burning up. His body was searing, scorching hot, the heat was unbearable. The cabin was on fire, he was on fire, but he was not burning. In vain he tried to put the fire engulfing his entire body out. He ran to the door, the hotness of the handle seared through his body causing him to recoil in pain, as he howled and screamed.

"John Gainsby Thorne"!

John spun around, both he and the cabin were fully ablaze. The man sitting calmly on the chair in the corner was dressed in full white, with long white hair cascading down his broad shoulders. The blazing red hot flames seemed to be bowing towards him respectfully without touching him.

John burned hot without burning. The fire tormented him to the deepest recesses of his soul. He paced back and forth rapidly, still trying to extinguish himself. In vain he flailed and slapped and rolled on the fiery floor. He tried to remove his clothes, Nothing worked.

"Who are you"? John screamed. "Get this fire out, for God's sake, help me"!

'God, John? You of all people, now you call on God. What is your God John"?

"This is your fiery Inferno, John, I am your tormentor. Look and see"! The man pointed a well manicured hand languidly towards the candle's flame. He was in no hurry. He would be here all night.

John looked and saw!

The first scene around the candle was of his daughter lying in a hospital bed. He was by her side crying as she passed away, in pain, but smiling bravely. She had died of natural causes. His tormented mind blamed everyone in the hospital. His wife had literally run away, realizing that he had gone mad

John moaned in agony.

Thus had begun his unholy reign of terror.

The scene shifted and John burned even hotter. Scenes, as if on a movie screen begun to appear one by one. John begun screaming as every victim of his madness and cruelty appeared before him. Every time a new scene played across the virtual screen John burned hotter and hotter without burning.

The tortured souls screamed in agony, all the while reaching out their bony skeletal hands to claw at his face and body.

John screamed in terror!

Scene after scene changed, they tormented and tortured the man who never stopped to think of the pain and agony that his madness and mayhem had inflicted upon the innocent.

John screamed and screamed long into the night, until he could scream no longer. He looked and saw his handiwork and knew that there was no stopping the burning until he had acknowledged his culpability of his willful cruelty and malevolence.

John had not found this cabin by accident. His deeds had led him here as it had many before him.~

Poor Mary had lain still until the madman had been gone long enough for her to feel safe. She found her phone which thankfully worked. Mary was getting more hysterical as she stood and surveyed the mayhem and cruelty of the deed that had been done. Finally managing to dial the police while her fingers kept slipping in the blood that covered everything, she collapsed onto the ground. It took a while for them to calm her down enough to get a proper understanding of the situation.

Even using tracker dogs to hunt John down was not easy. The authorities tried for almost two days. Finally on the third day, deep in the woods they heard screaming. John came tearing out of the woods yelling that he was on fire and burning. No one could see any fire or burning except John.

Mary identified him. She had a really good therapist, for her nightmares were terrifying and frightening.

The police could hardly believe their luck. For years they had sought 'the axeman', as they had dubbed him, he had been smart and elusive. He had somehow managed to evade the law this whole time, yet here he was bounding out of the woods in the middle of nowhere, willingly turning himself in to them, screaming like a madman.

But John knew why.

Just before dawn, the cabin had mysteriously disappeared.

John ran and ran, not caring where he was going.

John was committed to an insane asylum, while talking of angels and devils and babbling and drooling in torment. Who knows how long he will be burning or whether it will ever stop!

No one sees the cabin in the woods with the candle burning unless they have come to pay for their sins.

Behave and be good.

Do not go looking unless you want to find it!

But, if the candle beckons, you have no choice.

N.A.