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Shadow of Death

Evil in the Woods

By Michelle WeirPublished 2 years ago Updated 2 years ago 13 min read
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Shadow of Death
Photo by Jackson Simmer on Unsplash

The cabin in the woods had been abandoned for years, but one night, a candle burned in the window. Shadows stretched long in the moonlight, strange shapes moving between the trees. Footsteps are muffled by the multicolored leaves, almost bare trees shifting in the breeze. Shots half-remembered pierce the silence.

The cabin, once a happy home, now lay decrepit. The roof sagged, the railings were falling off, and part of the gutter hung off the corner. A young girl with short brown hair walks down the path that would lead her home, a shortcut through the woods she always traveled. Robin had walked by this cabin countless times. Played there as a child. But the flickering light had never been there before. As she stops to look at the cabin, she notices something strange about the door. It has been left ajar.

"Nobody is ever at the cabin," she mutters to herself. Nobody had lived in the house as far back as she could remember. Unable to resist the pull, she leaves the path behind. Dead grass and weeds brush against her jeans, some as high as her waist. The door, left cracked, creaks loudly when she pushes it open. Wiping her hands off on her pants, she steps into the cabin.

It's pitch black inside. A faint rectangle of light slips by her as she stands there, her shadow stretching with the strength of the moonlight. Robin fumbles with her phone, dropping it as she tries to yank it out of her pocket. Thud. With shaking hands, she bends down trying to feel where her phone landed.

Creeeaaak.

She freezes, looking around wildly but unable to see. With wide eyes, her frantic efforts double until she hits the edge of her phone. It skitters across the floor, further inside the living room. She scrambles after it before slowly standing with her phone in hand. Turning on the light from her phone with shaking fingers, she takes a deep breath. Old houses made old house sounds.

Robin shines her light around and finds the place much like she remembered. Dusty and full of furniture, most of the photo frames still hung on some walls. But it didn't look quite the same. Like someone had been here before her. The place looked like someone had left in a hurry, leaving things haphazardly behind and pushed around. Debris and litter mixed with the glass of broken picture frames, still and covered in dust. What had happened here since the last time she played here so long ago? The mystery of the cabin in the woods.

She couldn't remember when she had stopped playing at the cabin, but her grandfather warned her often to stay away. Something terrible had happened here before. He was getting old. He would ramble about shadows and keep a light burning all night in his room. He didn't like her taking the shortcut through the woods but she needed to get home to her grandfather before he started to worry about her.

She didn't remember the cabin looking like this when she was last here. That had been years ago, but it had looked cleaner and more put together. Brighter. Until that last night, when her grandfather had come to pick her up. She didn't remember much about that time, only that her mother had been there. The house hadn't been messy like this when she had come down the stairs, her grandfather hugging her tight and picking her up. He had carried her to his old truck before having an argument with her mom on the porch. That had been the last time she had seen her mom. She didn't remember much else.

She walked by the cabin often, had seen it fall into disrepair. The more it fell apart, the more her grandfather seemed to lose his mind. She worked at the school, partially for the money to help buy stuff, but also because he was worse. He would yell at random intervals at shadows in the house. He wasn't sleeping well at night, waking her up because he would dream of her dying and would tell her endlessly that the house was dangerous. But she walked by it regularly because it was the fastest way home.

One of her friends must be playing a prank on her. It was a small town, so most people knew she stayed late after school. Her friends would know she took this shortcut to get home. It was that time of year for tricks. Braver now with her light, she begins to climb the stairs. She pulls her jacket closer around her with one hand while the other held out her phone.

"Hello," she takes another step. It groans under her weight. As she nears the top, Robin shines her light onto the landing. "Hello?" Louder this time, she waits for any response or her friends to jump out and yell boo. It's brighter up here, the door where the candle sits in the window open and spilling light across the floor. She starts to walk towards the light. There are other doors that must lead to other rooms, but the light pulled her towards it, like a moth to flame. She nears the door when a flicker of shadow causes her to pause.

Bam! A door slams shut behind her. She whips around, heart pounding in her chest. At first she sees nothing. Only blackness beyond her light. No motion catches her wide eyes as she strains to see.

A door slowly begins to open. It opens outward. Towards Robin. No one is standing behind the door. Shocked, she stands there staring into the darkness. It slams shut again.

Screaming, she runs into the room with the candle burning and shuts the door. Leaning against it, she takes deep breaths to calm her racing pulse. The dim light cast large shadows that danced along the walls. A crib is shoved against the far wall, pink moth eaten bedding spilling between the slats. A bed is next to the door, looking stained. The mattress sits crooked. A little desk is against the wall by the window. The window where the candle is still burning. Glass from a picture frame reflects the flame.

Knock, knock. Robin jumps away from the door, looking frantically around the bedroom. There was a closet. No room under the bed. Robin shoves her phone in her pocket. She backs away. The door knob jiggles. Turns. She backs up until she hits the wall behind her before looking for something she could use. She grabs a dusty letter opener off the desk beside her, feeling silly but seeing no other options. The door creeps open. Some form stood there, as tall as the door frame. As dark as the shadows, Robin could just make out the light slipping past the shadow as it looms on the other side of the doorway.

The candle blows out.

Frantic, Robin pulls her phone back out of her pocket, the light still on. She shines it at the open door. The letter opener held out like a dagger in her other hand. But no one is there. She shines it everywhere, turning in a circle where she stood. Nothing. Staring blankly at the desk, heartbeat still skipping, she zones into a picture frame. Why did the family smiling in the photo look so familiar to her? She picks up the picture to look at it closer. A brown haired family poses for the camera.

A man, a gap-toothed little girl maybe two years old, and a woman. Her mom? She looks closer, confused. She didn't remember them living there. But then again, where had her family gone? She never saw her mom again after living with her grandfather. She hadn't thought of them in years. She even rarely ever thought of her father. Brow wrinkled in concentration, she tries to remember them.

Bang! Her heart skips a beat and she drops the picture back onto the desk. She had to leave. Now. She runs down the stairs, their protests unnerving in the still night air. The door in view, moonlight beckoning her to fresh air and freedom. As she crosses the living room, bam! The door slams shut just as she reaches it. She tries to turn the knob but finds it unmoving.

Whirling back around, she shines the light in the living room, panting, trying to catch her breath. A couch sits oddly catty-corner facing the door. A lamp shade lays on its side. More pictures tease Robin as she approaches, pictures of a mom and dad and little girl smiling at the camera with the cabin in the background. Pictures of just her mom and the little girl sitting on that couch in the corner. Photos of memories she couldn't recall.

The front door swings open. Robin watches as it swings back and forth. Like someone was fighting to open the door. Like something was closing it. Whispers she couldn't understand seemed to be coming from all around her. As the door swings shut one last time, she thought she saw a woman in the door.

Bam, bam, bam. Slamming sounds echo from upstairs. Jumping, she looks around. Crash! A picture frame falls off the wall in the hallway. The slamming stops. The door to outside remains closed.

"Who's there?" Nobody answers her. A breeze curls its fingers around her face. Unable to see past the circle cast by her phone, Robin searches the living room for further clues. Unable to recognize the faces in the pictures ravaged by time. But she knows deep down that she just can't face the truth.

Seeing no other options, Robin moves into the hall, freezing as she sees the picture that fell. She knew that picture. Her grandfather kept one in his wallet. It was her photo, as a little girl. A little brunette child. A child not much younger than when Robin remembers no longer coming to the cabin. Not long before both her parents disappeared. Perhaps there was more to her grandfather's ramblings than she assumed. What had happened?

"Nobody else has been here!" The shout echoes through the house. A woman's voice. Spinning in circles, Robin tries to find the source of the familiar voice.

"Who's there?" she calls into the emptiness. She looks up the stairs. Had the voice come from up there? She tiptoes back up to the top floor. Eerie quiet magnifies every little sound. Heart pounding, knowing she should be looking for a way out, she cannot help but try to find out what had happened. She stands, uncertain of where to look. One door stands slightly open in front of her, while to the left of her was the room with the candle. To the right was the door she refused to look at.

Pushing the door open the rest of the way, she shines the light around the room. A study? Bookshelves sagged, a broken down chair at in the center of the room. A desk stood under a window. Moonlight peeked out behind the clouds. She looked at the photos spread across the top. Pictures of the inside of the cabin. With a shadow man in every photo.

"Who is he!" Rage. Blinding anger screamed from that voice. The pictures flew from the desk top. The chair spun in a sudden circle. Books fell of the shelves and landed on piles already on the floor. Robin turned and ran back down the stairs. She stood in the hallway once again.

Maybe a shadow had caused her father's jealous rage. Maybe her grandfather had been right all along and there was something evil in the woods. Maybe... Another photo slips from its broken frame and stops before her feet. Her as a little girl, playing in the living room, while a dark shadow loomed over her.

Tearing her gaze away, she races to the end of the hall. A door hides some stairs that lead to the basement. Stairs she remembers from being there before. The door opens quietly. The hair on the back of her neck stands up. She makes her way down into the darkness. The flashlight seems dimmer here, like the shadows were pressing down. It gives way begrudgingly inch by inch as she walks deeper into the pit.

If only she had gone home, instead of walking in here.

A slam echoes above her as the door to the basement closes. As the sound fades, another pierces her ears. A snarl that made every hair on her body stand on end. Robin grips her phone tighter as she makes her way to the other end. Stairs hidden by the wall and another door leads to outside. Robin used to make her way in and out from there since so many toys were stored down here. Toys she would use to play outside to avoid the shouting in the house. She'd been too young to understand.

A stack of boxes falls over in her path, the guts of each box spilling across the floor. Sneezing and coughing, she climbs past the mess. Another growl rips the air. A doll starts crying from somewhere in the pile.

"Momma, momma." repeated over and over again until it stops abruptly. Robin continues to crawl over the top.

"Who are you? What do you want?" Her parents had died so long ago. When she had gotten older, her grandfather had told her about her parents dying. But not how, not why. She didn't understand why. What had changed her father?

Another box falls over, photos sliding out across the floor. Pictures of her mother, of their cabin, inside the hall and their bedroom. Shadows in all of them. Had her father taken these photos? Did he think the shadow was another man? Her mother had loved her. She had gotten Robin out of the house before it was too late. Had that been her trying to open the front door? She had to get out of this house. She had to get out of here.

Her phone light flickered.

She took three more steps, almost to the door that led to safety.

The light dies.

Only the darkness reqmains. A growl sends her pulse racing higher. Holding her hands out in front of her, she slides her feet forward, inch by agonizing inch. Her eyes wide as she gasps for breath in the suffocating black.

Gunshots rip through the silence. Once, twice, three times before abruptly falling silent.

"Mine..." Robin hears the word clear as day as her palm finally touches the wood of the door. Something grabs her by the back of her neck and she screams. It pulls her backwards. Struggling against some unknown force, she drops her phone. Clack. Invisible hands wrap around her throat. She stabs out with the letter opener, hoping for relief or a quick end. Feet kicking out, the thuds hitting the door mock her. How close to escaping. Sobbing, she is dragged further into the dark.

They say her grandfather filed the missing persons report, but refused to go near the cabin. The police found her phone, dead and cracked. Torn fingernails and drag marks across the basement floor ended at a wall.

They tore down the wall. Then they tore down all the walls.

They found spaces between the walls inside and the outside logs. They discovered small bones, mice and birds. They found scratches, claw marks too high up for the small animals. An old letter opener was found between the walls. Stabbed into the plaster, it had been dragged, tearing up and sending white dust to cover everything. Blood was found on the letter opener. It was Robin's. Drag marks were also found in the dust.

They tore down the whole cabin.

They never found her body.

You can't find the cabin anymore, but you can find where it once stood. If you stay the night there, you'll hear screams and gunshots echoing in the night air.

If you stay longer than one night, they may not find you, either.

Horror
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About the Creator

Michelle Weir

I'm a mom, I work a lot, and read all the time. I've always wanted to write a book series that I can read to my kids one day, or let them read it. I love to make jewelry and otherwise be creative. Here's to the next chapter of my life.

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