The Candle In The Window

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

"It is said, through a second-hand account, that the surrounding foliage was broken at once, and numerous figures emerged, their features engulfed in shadow."

"The flame had been burning scant seconds as the shadows lumbered towards it, their upper bodies suddenly exposed to a haunting degree. If fate had been cruel, our witness would have gasped at the sight. But it was not to be so. At least, not yet. For the first tumbler aligned itself only as a voice broke the still. Whether it was from within the party or beyond the window was scarcely apparent."

"'The time has come, my minions fair."

"Take flight this eventide."

"Avast all who spy our signal nigh."

"Grow our fleet with souls aplenty."

"The waves of twilight call."

"We set sail 'fore dawn's first light."

"By Neptune's speed, be off with you.'"

"As the words died on the air, and a skeletal hand extended to extinguish the flame, our unexpecting witness fled into the night, already fraught with some sneaking suspicion of corruption."

(The faces before me brim with their own noticeable terror as the summoned words once more die upon the air. Of course, I let their questions brew a little bit more before I speak again.)

"Fret not, my friends. These words are but words, and nothing more. Believe me when I say this story has carried on strong, with all caustic dialog intact. After all, belief is the catalyst that sets myth apart from reality, no matter their origin. In truth, there is little evidence to reveal any truth to the tale at all. It is a story ripe for the fire, as such tales are meant to be."

(I can't help myself. I make another s'more. I ignite the marshmallows and hold them before me like a surrogate torch. I let the tension build as I quash the blaze and devour them whole.)

"It has been said that his flight held every hint of liberation. It was only later that the suspicions reached unbearable heights and questions, and he felt not his body, but even more, was on the line."

"As he raced through the woods--past this very spot, if I may add--he could sense nothing in hot pursuit. It was as if destiny had more in store for him than such a fateful death. His wings were the wings of fate and faith, and they held true as he closed the distance to his earthen cabin within the village; the village which, of course, eventually became our campground."

"He delivered word of what he had seen to his family there. He recited what he could of the words and pleaded that word be spread to the other inhabitants of the village."

"However, as fate so often brings to be, the boy's own fellowship with trickery took a turn for the ultimate worst, and in doing so brought about their utter undoing that night. Truth be told, he was consistently marked as a mischievous child, and was no doubt guilty of such on numerous occasions."

"Thus, the pleadings and earnestness unbefitting of him had fallen on deaf ears, and none would accept the terror housed beneath his steely charms."

"As for his terror..."

"You don't need me to tell you what happened next."

"His terror, of course, grew and grew as the words became more and more unpalatable and useless to utter. His helplessness was profound as he escaped into his room and locked the door. He nestled himself under his covers, and waited for the nightmare to begin."

"In no time at all, it did, and the screams began to sound: a symphony of howls and ghastly revelries that tore through the night, moving hand in hand with time and the horrors of impending damnation. He willed himself deep within the mass of blanketings, hoping against hope that some magic would protect him through the chaos to ensue, and that he would live, unscathed, to glimpse that firey, blessed dawn once more."

(I pause. The night is coming to an end, and I use it to my advantage. Against their protests, I douse out the fire and pace for the finish.)

"And so, requisite seconds passed on, the chilling cacophony waging forth like two armies at ravenous blows. As the minutes came and went, and the turmoil levelled out to silence, his ears became his eyes; and with them he painted the spotless scene, filling a portrait as barren and virgin as a starless night."

"And as he painted, he waited."

"And waited."

"And waited."

"And waited."

"Finally, when it seemed that enough hours had passed, there came to the fringes of his refuge a glow, as if the early morning blue had finally arrived, in haste."

"But, still, he waited."

"And waited."

"But all the while he could sense nothing else was out of place; no hint of unfolding lie to suggest that it wasn't all over after all. Whatever had come in the night had doubtless taken its toll, and had moved on. There could be nothing left to spell his doom."

"And as for that..."

"Well..."

"At least he would see the Sun rise once more before his eyes."

"So, in a rush, he threw the layers into the air, and stared in horror at the grisly sight beyond their fall:"

"A skeletal hand, wrapped firmly around a burning candle stalk, the wick bowed under the might of it's ravenous ember: a burning orb, the doppelganger of the Moon; a totem roiling and toiling in the opulent fire."

"Welcome to the party, lad."

"Make haste your departure by dusk's dry call."

"This day be your last upon these mortal shores."

"For, tonight, ye be mine forever more."

"Then, at once, the Moon was gone."

"The candle was gone."