The Call

The cabin in the woods had been abandoned for years, but one night, a candle burned in the window. For as long as the people of the small town of Rock Hill could remember, the quaint little home sat mysteriously within the forest, now splintered and bleeding with a blackened mold as thick as dried pine sap. As the howl of the wind passed through the cracks of the walls, it produced a horrible cry, but the flame remained still; perhaps it was more of a force than flame, calling anyone who desired something more toward it. Local children often found interest in its ominous presence but never entered, fearing only what their imaginations could construct. Years ago, a man whose body was never recovered allegedly vanished into the forest. Some thought that he was taken but found no trace of evidence to support the theory. A legend began to spread that one night, he gazed intensely into the forest from his bedroom window. It was as if his gaze could pierce the thicket, allowing him to understand the entirety of its grandeur. Something called him, something that even he couldn't see yet was powerful enough to pull him in with immeasurable inducement.

Anthony crossed his arms in skepticism. "That sounds like a bunch of crap Marcus," Anthony said. Another one of his brother's stories aimed to creep out the guests. But he was a hell of a storyteller, always keeping everyone on their toes.

"Well, duh, but hey, we should go check it out, guys. "No one goes down there, and we're on summer break now. Let go tomorrow night, and we see for ourselves that the story is a "bunch of crap." What we got to lose if it's not reeeaal," Marcus mocked frivolously, trying to dig under his insensible brother's skin.

Anthony's tough demeanor always protected him. He was still young enough to look beyond what is to any possibility of what could be. Every chance and every challenge made him seem invincible, making him renowned among his peers. He tried to remain diligent and unphased by the world. Marcus, however, was careless, leaving Anthony to protect him, despite his seemingly dispassionate character. Deep down, something sparked an inevitable stream of anxiety to course through him. It felt as if the flame that lit the mystifying cabin burned a hole through his stomach, leaving it empty and wondering.

As he and his brother prepared to set out the following night, Anthony sat up, thinking about the story his brother had told. It was true that years ago, before they were born, a man disappeared from Rock Hill. Everyone knew each other. Trust had morphed into paranoia as rumors and other allegations quickly spread about who and what caused it all. It was only a matter of time until it was brought up again.

* * *

The next day the boys arranged their gear; several lanterns, sleeping bags, and some snacks & sodas. Anthony, of course, packed a large serrated hunting knife, some essential medical equipment, a radio, fire-making tools, and a compass. By late afternoon the boys were on their way to the edge of the forest that lay parallel to the town's limits, divided by a small clear running creek. About a mile in, the cabin stood as if waiting for lost love to free it from its own loneliness. On the edge of the forest sat two worlds divided only by a quiet mist of uncertainty. Clouds began to muster as the sun fell behind them. Anthony stood still, inevitably thinking about the man whose legend keeps most children from seeing what could lie beyond the natural border.

Inside the forest, the potent smell of pine sap filled the air. It became quiet with the unnatural sound of the town extinguished behind an enharmonic orchestra of songbirds and rustling leaves. It's difficult to feel anxious in such a place. It's been years since the boys wandered through the forest. They remembered capturing a glimpse of the cabin but were too frightened to approach it. At that time, the boogyman or the big bad wolf could have as easily occupied it as anything else. The further they walked, the more a cool mist began to fill the air making each step forward more and more difficult to see where they were heading. Fortunately, Anthony had brought his compass, keeping a close watch on their direction like a ship's navigator.

"You know where we're going?" Anthony asked, keeping his eyes pinned to his compass.

"Yeah, I think so, people always seem to find it, so I'm not worried."

Marcus' innocent ignorance eluded Anthony. He was like a child in Disneyland, always skipping along from attraction to attraction until his mommy carried him home. A cool breeze bustled through the trees, and with each step, the wind seemed to grow until a muffled cry that sounded almost human could be heard in the distance. Chills ran down Anthony's spine. It didn't sound like a person but something else, something urethral, and haunting. Looking back, they couldn't see a few steps behind them as the fog grew thicker like a thick woolen blanket covering the entirety of the forest floor.

"M-m-Marcus?" Anthony stuttered, trying to maintain his composure. No answer. "Marcus?"

Marcus began to speed up his pace, faster and faster "Marcus!" Before Anthony could call out his name again, his brother was consumed by the fog. Not even his footprints were visible. It became impossible to discern which direction he went. Panic set in as he shuffled around, looking for any sign of his brother. Looking down at his compass, the needle spun rapidly in all directions until fixing itself in particular focus, northeast at 61 degrees, not moving from that position no matter what direction he turned. No textbook or survival manual had prepared him for this peculiar circumstance. For now, he was all alone, his brother gone and the cry of the wind deepening as he moved toward the aim of the compass, unaware of what he found when he arrives.

At a point, he believed he was dreaming or perhaps trapped in some delusion that could only be explained as a sudden influence from the rapid change in environment or maybe a concoction of stress and teenage hormones churning itself inside of his growing brain. He needed a rational explanation. Each moment the call of the cabin pierced the misty air from all directions. Tunnel vision set in as he tried to fight the call. For a moment, the mist broke, and between the trees, a short silhouette appeared. Drawing closer to the figure pushed it further away as if connected to it with some opposing magnetic force. All around, more figures seemed to appear, with the cry deepening louder and louder. Anthony's head began to spin, causing every direction to melt into one massive spinning vortex of ghostly cries.

And then, it became quiet. All the chaos retreated back into a calm, quiet forest. Anthony stood still among the trees as the mist dematerialized above his head, leaving only a small light glimmering in the window of a cabin. Surrounding the cabin were dozens of shadows, lost among themselves in a torrent of self-loathing cries. He wondered why he hadn't been drawn to this fate yet. Whatever it was, it wasn't interesting in him, or maybe he needed to let go of something inside himself. These creatures seemed to be in pain, so why choose to become part of some tormentous collective. No matter how strong the wind blew, the candle remained still. Not even the wax melted nor the candle shortened.

"It's ok, man," Marcus whispered in a ghostly echo. "You can come in. We're all here together."

Anthony could hear his voice but couldn't see him. "Marcus, let's get the FU%^ outa here, man. This place isn't right. We NEED to go." Anthony begged, backing slowly away from the haunting apparition.

Anthony tried to run. However, all paths he found converged into the same place, with his brother's voice calling out, wanting nothing more but to embrace him in this seemingly everlasting paradise that, to Anthony, seemed like a perilous hell, held together by only a small immoveable flame. But this was eternal and existed outside of these flawed dimensions. Perhaps there was something to it. Maybe if he would just let go, everything would be ok. All of his pain and all of his thoughts would disappear. Would becoming part of this thing bring him something more than what he could ever be on his own? That's really what he was looking for, after all.

As these thoughts churned, he was pulled closer toward the flame. He tried to fight it, but the sensation became an overwhelming feeling of certainty of what he didnt know. Still trying to pull away, a sea of white light enveloped him until there was nothing, not even himself.

* * *

'Beep-Beep-Beep' Anthony sprung up from his bed to his alarm ringing. His sheets were soaked with sweat. He could hear his brother's obnoxious snoring filling the room like a choking bear. Everything was still in place; his Marine posters and grand-dads old war medals hung uniform next to his bed. Daylight poured into the room, greeting them as happily as the day before they left. Was it a dream, he thought? It seemed too natural. He looked out the window to the distance where the forest stood, as quiet and mysterious as before. Faintly, as the wind passed through the trees, a cry could be heard, sending a haunting chill down Anthony's spine. The morning sun had settled in the sky, and now the boys were prepared to embark again, only to find themselves in this same cycle for the coming days, unaware of when it will end.