The Abandoned Cabin is Never Safe

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

It was the kind of night where the trees looked menacing, where their branches looked like the slender, bony fingers of a witch’s hand in a fairy tale. The tips were claws, coming to scratch and snatch. Wind howled and rain sliced, the muddy forest floor was a trap to hold your ankles fast.

A single mother had wanted to take her kids on a camping trip, like the ones she had gone on when she was young. They’d brought her and her sisters so much joy, and she had wanted to give that to her own children. But a flash summer storm broke out and the kids became frightened. Too many new experiences – the hike, the tent, the unfamiliar woods – and now a torrential rain accompanied by the symphonic crash of thunder and the unnatural strike of white lightning illuminating the night. A wicked wind ripped the tent with a rogue branch, causing the children to scream. It was time to find a better shelter.

The mother, Jenny, remembered a cabin she and her sisters used to explore on their camping trips. She hoped it was still there, and if it was, that it was still standing. The trio picked up their essentials for overnight, planning to return to the tent in the morning. They hiked up the path further into the woods, and luckily found the cabin.

“It’s not so bad,” Jenny said as she shone her flashlight around the remains of the dusty furniture. White clothes covered a sofa, making it look like a poorly planned Halloween costume. Looking in the drawers of a rickety old hutch, Jenny found a candle and some matches. She struck the match and lit the candle, casting a deceivingly warm glow across the singular room of the cabin.

At least it’s dry, she thought, dragging a finger through the thick layer of dust. Meanwhile, she let her kids explore, glad they were too distracted to be scared anymore.

“You know this is a witch’s house,” Beth, the older of the two, teased.

“Shut up,” said Marco, her younger brother.

“It’s true. She’s gonna be mad we’re here. Witches hate trespassers, and they love to eat little boys, too.”

ARGHHHHH! Beth had tickled Marco and caused him to crash into a heavy set of drapes. He flailed and they tangled more around him, like a boa constrictor squeezing its prey. “Geh me ouf of her!” came Marco’s muffled cry from inside the fabric.

Jenny rushed over to the kerfuffle and freed her son from the cloth cage he found himself in.

“Knock it off you two. This is not our house; we must be respectful of the space and the things inside it.”

“Yeah… the thiiiings,” mouthed Beth from behind her mother. Marco fumed silently as Jenny helped to brush him off, mad that he was guilty only by association.

~

They settled in the middle of the room with their sleeping bags. The storm still raged outside, wind whipping through the trees, rain lashing down in great sheets like the blade of a guillotine.

A boom of thunder sounded, waking Marco from his slumber with a start. As he sat up, a shock of lightning ripped through the sky, turning night to day for an instant. There lit in the window, Marco saw a pair of eyes shine from the shape of a woman. Marco shook his head and looked again, but the night had returned and he could no longer see out. He tried to wake his sister, but she groaned and rolled over, pulling the blankets over her head.

“Go back to sleep,” his mother whispered, “It’s just the storm.”

But Marco was sure he had seen someone outside. Maybe they needed shelter from the storm too. Something tapped on the window pane. A deliberate tapping. Marco got up and peered around. The candle still burned, alerting anyone outside that there were people inside.

A sweet smell wafted into the cabin. Sweet, but off, like burned marshmallows. The smell enticed Marco. It made him feel warm and somehow safe. Marco followed the tapping sound around the edge of the cabin, until it became a gentle rapping at the front door. It was almost inaudible against the storm, although to Marco’s year it sounded crystal clear.

He went to the door. The rapping grew quicker and more frantic. He put his hand on the handle. The rapping progressed to banging. He pulled the door open.

Teeth. The most evil, cunning smile. Sharp as knives and twice as cutting. Marco felt as though the lightning had struck straight into his heart, a fear made of white, paralyzing heat. A calculated crack of thunder swallowed Marco’s scream. His head snapped back as he was sucked from the house, the door slamming shut behind him.

In the morning, the rain had stopped but the sky was still a dark and heavy grey, threatening to open again at any moment. Jenny woke to find Beth in her sleeping bag, and Marco missing. She called his name, he did not answer. She did all the normal things a mother would do if they woke to find one of their children missing. Mild concern faded to worry which cascaded into panic and finally hysteria. She clutched Beth’s wrist with an iron grip as they searched around the cabin for Marco. Outside, they found nothing except broken branches and forest detritus. That is, until Beth looked down and found footprints. Footprints that looked human, creeping around the side of the cabin. Footprints, that when followed back, had evolved from something else. Something with four legs. Something with hooves in the back, and claws in the front.

They never found Marco, though Jenny returns to the woods to look for him, year after year.

The cabin still stands abandoned to this day. At least, abandoned by humans.