The Abandoned Cabin

“If walls could talk” is funny to me because I am, you see, a wall. Obviously, I can’t talk (none of my fellow walls can talk) since I don’t have a mouth. I can, however, share my energy, which tells not only my story, but the story of everyone who was ever contained within me and my three closest friends that make up this room.

I was born many moons ago on this rolling land surrounded by tall forests of oak, built by hand by a young man in love, anxious to prove his worth to his desired bride. Hewn from felled trees with hand tools, the man carefully tooled out a notch from each log, and stacked them as high as he could, forming me, the last of the 4 walls in the main living area, the one with the front door. He filled in the gaps with thick clay from a nearby tumbling stream, and it hardened like a stone. We were built to last.

We spent many years here, filled with happy families, one after the other, all related (we can tell by their energy which is all a wall can absorb). We thought we would be here forever back then.

Things changed.

You see, nobody has lived within these walls for quite some time. I don’t know how to measure how long, exactly. Walls only know what they learn from those within, and I was never lucky enough to have calendars like my friends in the kitchen. There was a point a while back where the people brought in a box with pictures that talked and I began absorbing language and understanding more and more, but still, there is so much I don’t know how to describe. I’m trying and the human capturing my energy for you is doing her best.

There are nests of squirrels living on top of our room in the attic, and the glass has been busted out of our windows since the night somebody had a gathering in the front yard, lighting a big bonfire and throwing stones at my outside. I don’t know why they were here, but my family at the time fled out the back door with some of their possessions and we never saw them again. The people in the yard talked about burning us down but then heard a loud noise getting closer and they jumped in the things that brought them and left. More people came with flashing red lights and they put out the fire in the yard and we’ve been mostly alone ever since.

Now and then somebody comes through and explores and takes things they find here. Sometimes they just sleep on the floor for a night and then disappear into the next morning, never to return. Sometimes younger humans come and drink out of containers and act silly. Recently, though, two people came to see us and walked through talking about us, all of us. They said “Probably tearing it down is going to be the best bet for whoever buys it, although the outside walls are still very strong.” Then they put something in the yard in front of the house and hung something on the handle of my door.

I don’t really know what’s happening, but it looks like my friends and I may soon be departing, torn down after all this time. What will they do with us? We burn easily, obviously, being solid oak hundreds of years old. Perhaps they can make something else out of us, like furniture? People have been coming and going, talking about how they could sell the logs and use it to help pay for a new home. Walls can’t be scared, but we can feel the dark energy gathering around us as our destruction seems imminent.

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Hold on, what’s happening now? Somebody is here. It’s a young man with a woman. They are holding on to each other's hands as they walk through our rooms. They are saying such nice things.

“It’s so beautiful. It’s so sad it’s been abandoned all these years.”

“Well, we know why, don’t we?”

“Yes, that was such a terrible time for this town, I’ve heard.”

“After they left, the house foreclosed and the bank has owned it ever since and has just let it fall into decay.”

“It’s not bad, though. Windows need replacing, obviously, and a new roof, some flooring, but the walls are strong and sturdy and look how well they keep out the weather!”

“I know! I love it and I want to save it. You know what we need to do,” said the woman.

Walls don’t have emotions, but if they did, one that could be described as hope would be appropriate here. Maybe my friends and I weren’t done yet. The people soon left, and again, we stood. Walls don’t wait, and yet they are always waiting. And so, we stood.

Later on, more people started to come. They replaced the glass in our windows. They brought new wood for the floors, which had just been hard clay. They put on a new roof, airtight with no way for new animals to build nests. Our wires were pulled out and new ones were put in. Our pipes were replaced. Some of the walls which were no longer wood were painted. We smelled nice and new (or so the people said)! And then, the most amazing thing happened.

One day, a big thing pulled up to my door, and they propped it open and began bringing in furniture and boxes! We were getting new people! We would be alive again, absorbing new energy every day, instead of sitting in the energy that had been accumulated and then stuck when our last family left. After a while, a smaller thing came and people got out. There was the same man and woman who had said they loved us and wanted to save us, and with them were two other people.

I recognized their energy immediately. I had last felt it all those years ago as they had fled in fear out of our back door. They were small then, children. But I knew them just the same. People don’t live within you without you knowing them. Their energy becomes imprinted and they become a part of the history of us, the house, the walls.

“It looks so amazing. We were so happy here until that night,” said the woman.

“I wish mom and dad could see it,” said the man.

“It’s yours,” said the woman who saved us.

“What? We thought you were just showing it to us? We’re so happy that you’re going to be living here and just feel blessed that we get to see it again and have some closure, to know that some good is coming out of that terrible night.”

“No, when we found out it was essentially taken from your family, we knew what we had to do. Our home is perfectly fine, and we’re just down the road. We’re so excited to have you as our neighbors, or you can sell the home and find a new family to love it.”

The pair burst into tears. They hugged each other and then hugged the couple.

“Your parents nearly had the loan on the house paid off – it was a second mortgage they had taken to start a business which they never got a chance to do here, and was foreclosed over a tiny amount of money. We bought it for next to nothing, and the funds to repair it were donated by us and many of the families in town who remembered that night and were devastated over what happened to your family. The furniture and boxes are gifts from the town who held a big “pre-housewarming” for you. We weren’t here then, but we have talked to many of the people who were, and it was a dark night of the soul for the entire town. Most of the people who lit that bonfire in your yard have died and we can only hope that they’ll be better in their next lives.”

“This means the world to us. Our parents were so heartbroken that they never really recovered. They did use the money they took with them to start a business, and it was very successful, but they died very young, in their 40s, and we are sure that night had a lot to do with it. Our father felt like he failed his family, even though there was nothing he could have done and if he had tried, he would likely have been lynched. He loved us all, but that night broke his heart. Yet, we spent our happiest years in this house, in this town, and the thought of being here again is so tempting,” said the woman.

The man added, “I’ve got a great place upstate, so I don’t think I’m interested in living here, sis, but if you want to, I would love to have our family gatherings here, and come to visit as much as possible.”

“I don’t know,” she said. “It would be a whole new life for me. How do I know that all those hateful people are actually gone?”

“After you left, evidently the town discovered that the Sheriff was the lead of the Klan here locally. He was voted out of office and replaced with a new man who made it his mission to track down all the members and give them an ultimatum: change their ways or leave town. He made it his mission to root out what he saw as the ultimate evil and change the town for the better. He’s still in office and would love to meet you. He was the first black Sheriff in the state. He even has a job in his office if you’re interested,” The man who loved the house explained.

“It sounds too good to be true,” said the woman.

“It’s not,” said the other woman. “It’s Karma. It’s positive energy reclaiming something dark and transforming it into light. It’s also the right thing to do. Here is the deed. It is yours. You may do whatever you like with it. You don’t have to decide now. Take your time – there is no mortgage, just taxes & insurance but the town has waived your taxes for your lifetime, and I’ve provided insurance for the next 5 years. That should be long enough for you to determine what you want to do. Obviously, we can’t speak for every citizen, and we know that hate is everywhere, but the Sheriff has really transformed things here and hateful people don’t stay long. They’re not welcome here unless they’d like to learn from their mistakes and be better.”

The woman was now shedding tears, which I learned about from the box, like I learned about everything. “I don’t know whether to burn it down or move in and love it.”

“Well,” said the other woman, “Let me just say this. This home was hand-built in the 1800s by a young freed slave for his beautiful bride. They lived here happily until their deaths and passed it on to their children and their children did the same. Your mother is a direct descendant of that young man and his wife, and this home is yours and always should have been. Your family has been a part of this town since it was founded. You are not only welcome here, you are an irreplaceable part of here.”

My original family, my grown up children, looked at each other and I knew.

Walls can’t cry, obviously. But I know what it means, from the box, and the energy around these emotions from the people was uplifting and I’ll bet it would make a human cry. I could feel it coursing through the wood in my logs. We were special. I felt all of us humming with the beautiful vibrations coursing through us from the people. We were going to be a home again, the best thing a wall could ever be.