The cabin

The cabin in the woods had been abandoned for years, but one night, a candle burned in the window. Grace was told by her father the tattered old cabin was all that remained of a group of quakers outcast by the colony for "dealing with the devil".

Strewn about the forest floor lay various debris, slabs of wood, rusted metal, even a doorknob, all covered in decay and moss. These forgotten relics were all that remained of dwellings long collapsed. The cabin, however rotting, still stood. Encompassed in the final blue lit hues of twilight, the white pine outer walls sag back into the earth, vibrant feathered moss adorns its cap like a tightly fastened bonnet, and a candle flares through thick dust on the inside of its four-panel glass window. Enamored by the flame she drew nearer, autumn leaves crunching beneath her feet, step after step.

Her father forbade her to get too close to the cabin but, with winter nearing and food growing scarce Grace had to forage as much fertile land as she could to help feed the family, and the closer to the cabin the more mushrooms she tended to find. Her stomach had been growling for hours and it was as if the cabin invited her in for dinner. She continued closer across the littered forest floor. The earth beneath her crunching and crunching.

Until suddenly . . .

GRACE

In the distance her mothers voice rang her name. Grace, she called. Her name echoed through the birch and the pines. Graces' eyes widened leaving the trance, she looked through the trees to the sky, no longer did light shine through. Looking down to her empty basket, the ground around her touted a perfect ring of toadstool mushrooms, and she was in the very center. She abruptly turned back towards the origin of her mothers voice, reaching down for the edge of the ring, plucking a few red capped mushrooms along the way. Once removed from the circle she paused, peering over her shoulder once again with the cabin in frame. No longer did the candle flicker in the window. The flame had been extinguished. Her lungs gasped for air as she ran toward the sound of her mothers voice. Clutching her basket tightly, moving as quickly as she could, she slipped on the decaying leaves below.

Grace fell to the ground at the edge of the forest. The basket flung from her grasp and the mushrooms dispersed around her onto the grassy plain outside of the forest wall. She stood herself up and a billow of calm returned to the air around her, picking up her basket and placing the days harvest once again inside. Without looking back she started towards home, warm light emanated from the modest thatch topped dwelling. Arriving at the outer fence, the screech of the wooden gate gave notice to her mother that Grace returned home. She met her daughter in the doorway. Atop her head lay a white bonnet that shielded the majority of her hair, with the exception of a few sand colored strands peeking through to frame her thin, sunken face. She wore a green over-dress, topped with a white apron; Typical to puritan women. Her mother scolded her for returning after last light while ripping the wicker basket full of toadstools from her grasp.

She entered the modest abode, where the stone fireplace roared. Aromas of stewed meat overwhelmed Grace's nostrils. Her mouth was watering, and the growl of her stomach became louder than before. Her young brother, sister, and father sat at the modest wooden table, their stomach growls harmonizing in unison. Hanging from the mantle down into the fire was a black cauldron-like pot, her mother tossed the mushrooms in. Grace took her seat at the table avoiding eye contact. Her father at the head of the table, was wearing a white linen shirt stained with earth and blood. He began to speak, his deep gruff voice escaped his righteous mouth “Grace, thy must repent for disobeying thine mothers will”. Grace glanced at his worn dried out face and apologized. Her father looked to her suspiciously and exclaimed “We only managed one rabbit for the stew, portions will be small and yours will be smallest, thine brother and sister must grow”. “Yes father” she stood and assisted her mother spooning servings of rabbit and mushroom stew into wooden bowls ensuring hers contained the least. With everyone in their seats and food on the table her father led a prayer thanking the lord for the meat, and to the health of his family. The prayer took an unexpected turn “Lord I pray thy guide my eldest daughter Grace with thy light, I fear the devil fancies her”.

Amen.

The air grew still as they all glanced at each other, while the fire crackled in the background. Spoons began to hit the bowls and though Grace was starving she found it difficult to eat. No one said a word during the meal. The children were first to finish, gobbling their stew in just a few gulps. They left the table and climbed their way into the loft area to their beds. Grace finally took one gulp of stew before her father finished his meal. He stood, clenching his defined jaw and said, “I told thine not near that cabin”. Her mother then asked her if Grace would clean up and retired with her husband to their bedroom on the first floor.

Grace sat at the table, her stomach still hurting, looking at the stew. A couple of chunks of rabbit and one toadstool swam in the broth. She lost her appetite. Grace collected the dishware and tossed it into her basket for washing in the morning. She picked up a stick that was leaned up against the fireplace and quickly stoked the fire. Afterward, Grace creaked up the ladder to the loft. Arriving at the top, she crawled past her brother and sister across the wooden floor to her mattress. With only about 4 feet of head room she could not stand. Her bed was on the south wall closest to the window, directly opposite the rickety wooden ladder to climb up. Her siblings had mattresses right next to each other on the east wall, and on the west wall were simple wooden shelves holding dry goods in glass jars.

She kicked off her brown leather shoes, stripped her woolen socks and attempted to soothe the blisters that covered her feet, patting them dry using one of her socks. She had been wearing her mothers old shoes which didn’t quite fit her. Her younger siblings always got new clothes, but Grace always ended up with her mothers hand me downs. Kneeling by the mattress, she undid the lace of her corseted over-dress and let out a big sigh. She then removed her bonnet, undid her blond hair and plopped onto the mattress sighing once again. Laying there she tried to push the thought that her parents believed her to be under the devils influence out of her mind. She focused on the crackling of the fire before drifting away to sleep.

In the middle of the night, she was startled awake. Her eyes fought to adjust as she glanced around the loft. She saw nothing out of the ordinary. The fire crackled, the children snored, the wind howled. She keeled up to peer out of the window and noticed a warm glow originating from the forest. Her heart dropped down from her chest into her stomach. Grace rubbed her eyes hoping it would go away but it was still there. It seemed as though it called to her. She crept across the loft past her snoring siblings, floorboards softly creaking along the way. While making her way down the ladder, her little brother awoke and opened his eyes. He saw his sister make her way down and out the front door. He hopped out of bed, throwing on his gray coat in pursuit. Grace did not notice her brothers presence lurking behind her as she made her way towards the forest.

Dressed in her white Lenin under gown, she marched across the prairie. Her bare blistered feet made their way along the cold earth stung with frost. Her brother stood watch at the edge of the fence as the forest swallowed her whole. Horrified, he ran back inside the home to wake his father. At the edge of his parents bed he struggled to speak, he stumbled and stuttered in search of the words before he mustered the sentence “Grace has gone into the wood”. His father sprung from the bed, in a hurry he draped a blanket over himself and pulled on his shoes. Meanwhile, his mother frantically gathered both children, led them into her bedroom and ordered them not to come out. On his way out of the door, his father took an extra jar of kerosine and grabbed up the oil lamp. He paused in the doorway lighting it and out he went.

Grace thrashed through the woods, over the logs, and through the brush. Twigs bit her skin as she passed, but she cared for nothing other than the light. The forest around her engulfed in brighter light the nearer she drew. At last, here she stood only feet away from the cabin, radiating. The door hung open, and an unclothed, chiseled, dark haired man reached out her. She took his hand, stepping for the first time into the cabin. She was greeted with aromas of bread, meat, potatoes, and most importantly pumpkin pie. There was only one room, and it was illuminated by the warm light of a large stone fireplace. Sprawled over the wooden floor lay several fine brass dishes holding the feast. Grace followed a pathway from the door to a circular clearing in the middle of the room where she could sit and finally satisfy her hunger. The gentleman bowed his head and exited the cabin. Grace began stuffing her face, in one hand she had delicious fluffy bread and in the other a handful of apple pie. For the first time in years her stomach did not ache of hunger.

Her father searched the forest for her, through the cold wrapped in nothing but a blanket. He called out to her with no avail. The man fought his way through the darkened forest, stumbling through the underbrush, and being scraped by brambles along the way in search of Grace. The dim light of his lamp gave way to the cabins shape. This was the only light that shone, aside from the moon. He wanted to turn away but he had a gnawing feeling sourced from deep within his gut, that Grace was in there. He hesitated, lowering the lantern to his side before slowly approaching the window. The hair on his neck stood as he crept closer. The leaves crunched. Now only inches away, trembling, he slowly began to raise the light. He squinted his eyes and lowered his brows, past the glare, through the glass was Grace. She was hunched in the center of the room with her back turned. Her long blond hair acted as a curtain shielding what was in front of her. Her arms were moving as if she was pulling something apart, and he couldn't make out what. He stood there with a pit in his chest trying to decipher what his daughter was doing there, when he accidentally tapped the glass with his lantern.

Grace turned toward the window. Her blue eyes pierced him. The corners of her mouth were stained red, and she was up to her elbows in blood. She wiped her face smearing streaks of red across it. Just beyond her was the mutilated carcass of a white tail deer. Entrails sprawled across the floor as it lay in a pool of its own blood. He wanted to run but he was frozen. Grace danced her way across the cabin to the window “Father, thine must join me in this feast” she said, still under the illusion that this was a grand meal. His face brandished utter disgust, and his stomach turned, tying itself into a knot. Stuttering he spoke “Wait here child, thine brother and sister must join us”. Grace smiled, her teeth stained with deers blood, before she turned back towards her meal. He turned away with tears in his eyes, he rounded the corner to the side of the cabin and knelt.

Kneeling he began to pray for forgiveness. He begged for God to tell him why. Wiping away the tears he stood. He pulled the lid from the top of the kerosine jar and began to pour the oil along the wall. He made his way around the perimeter to the door. The kerosine hit the doorframe splash after splash. “God forgive me” he belched. He threw the lamp at the door and stepped back. The front of the cabin went ablaze in the blink of an eye.

Grace left her trance, seeing the world around her for what it really was. The deer in the center of the floor, the blood on her hands and the only exit in flames. She dashed toward the window, now broken, in hopes her father could hear her. She screamed and cried begging for him to come to her rescue. They could see glimpses of each other behind the roaring flames. She watched as he stood there, doing nothing to save her. He watched as all four white pine walls caught flame. With nowhere left to go she led herself to the center of the room, next to the deer. There, she cursed her father and prepared to be engulfed in flame.

He no longer heard her voice. He walked towards a tree stump, suitable for resting his head and watched the cabin burn. The fire kept him warm as he drifted to sleep. He awoke at dawn, cold, the flame subsided and the cabin in ash. The man made his way out of the forest and across the prairie without difficulty. He entered the house, took off his shoes, and found his wife and two young children sleeping peacefully together in their bedroom. Standing at the end of the bed he slid down the wall behind him, and admired the peace.

The family never spoke of Grace again, though her father later did go back to the cabin. All he found was ash. He never found any bones. The next growing season their crop failed, and there wasn’t much to forage. They tried to trap animals for meat, though they were largely unsuccessful. That Autumn, their daughter fell ill, followed by their son. The family left the farm to save their children, however they both passed away in the spring. The mother, having lost all three of her children, flung herself from a cliff shortly after. Graces’ father led the rest of his days alone, in misery.

Though the cabin no longer stands, it is said that in these woods Grace still remains.