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THE FARMER AND HIS WIFE

A Campfire Ghost Story

By marty roppeltPublished 2 years ago Updated 2 years ago 8 min read
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"The cabin in the woods had been abandoned for years, but one night, a candle burned in the window."

Anton Zillich heard the words but dozed nonetheless, his chin bouncing off his chest. The last of his produce hadn't sold until the sun began setting. The long day drained him.

Erika, Anton's wife, kicked him in the shin.

"Ow!"

Erika chuckled. "Stay awake then. Do you want to fall onto the road?"

Gripping the horse's reins tighter and whipping them a touch, Anton turned toward Erika.

"I feel like I'm down there already."

"Listen to my ghost story. That will keep you awake."

"Not so far."

Erika grimaced and punched him in the shoulder.

Anton sighed and shook his head. He shifted his weight on the wagon's wooden bench. The sun sank behind the mountains before them. Calculating the position of the sun and the distance remaining to their village, he frowned.

"Hunters keep cabins in the woods. You'll be glad for one of them, abandoned or not. We'll be staying the night in one."

"A crate of apples," Erika grumbled. "We'll sleep on some strange floor tonight over one crate of apples."

"Hey, that's money we wouldn't have otherwise."

"We would sell all our produce faster if you didn't fiddle with the scale."

Anton shrugged. "And we would come away with less money."

"Always the money," she said. "With only our own mouths to feed, you still always worry about money? All our friends are home by now."

"We won't be the first to use a cabin," Anton pointed out. "We won't be the last, either."

"I want my comfortable bed with my old sweetheart." Erika laid her head on his shoulder.

Anton gazed down at Erika. Tall and robust, most men of their village considered her the comeliest of all the women in the region. Years of hard work in the fields had not hardened her features as it did other women. Coupled with lean and muscular Anton, the two made quite the handsome, if childless, couple.

Scratching his head, Anton squinted at Erika.

"What is it?" she asked.

"I don't know. I just had the strangest feeling."

"Oh?"

Anton peered into the growing dusk. He turned his head. To their left the forest stretched the length of a ridge of steep hills. Before them loomed the mountains. On their right, a freshly harvested field lay waiting for the coming winter. No other wagons or horses appeared on the road ahead.

"We're alone," Anton said.

Erika slapped his thigh. "I told you we should have left earlier."

"Stop it."

"What's wrong?"

"I don't know," he mumbled. "Something..."

Anton twisted on the bench and checked behind them. After a few moments he snapped back to face forward again. He whipped the reins.

"Don't look back," he warned.

Erika straightened her back. She smiled and began to turn her head.

"Don't!"

"What?" Erika asked, her voice unsteady and her face frozen.

"I was wrong. We're not alone on this road."

Anton whipped the reins again. His tired plow horse turned its head toward him and broke into a lumbering trot.

Erika's eyes grew wide. "What is it Anton, what did you see?"

"Never you mind," he replied while scanning the woods. He pointed off to the left. "There, ahead. Do you see it?"

Erika squinted. "A cabin with a candle in the window? Are you serious?"

"Someone's home. We'll be safe."

Erika turned to see what put a scare into Anton.

"I said don't look!"

"For the love of God, Anton," Erika said through gritted teeth.

"Just trust me."

Anton pulled the reins and guided his horse on to a narrow path.

Erika cleared her throat. "The path is too narrow. We'll get the reins stuck in the branches."

"No choice," Anton answered as he glanced backward. He whipped the reins again.

"Anton!"

Thickets brushed the sides of the wagon as it burst into the woods. The wagon's wooden wheels shuddered, crashing over uneven ground. The wagon rattled and shook. The scale for weighing produce clattered in the back of the wagon. Anton grabbed the reins with his left hand and held Erika in the wagon with his right. The horse panted, struggling up the hill.

They reached a clearing. There stood the cabin, with the lit candle in the window.

Anton pulled Erika from the wagon. He hustled her to the door of the small cabin. Erika knocked on the door.

Without waiting for an answer, Anton pushed the door open. He shoved Erika inside, slammed the door closed and leaned against it.

"My God Anton, what's the matter with you?"

Anton's eyes searched the clean, cozy cabin. A small, rough table with two chairs and a straw bed were the only furniture. A fire burned in the fireplace, warming the room. He strode to the vacant chairs.

"Where's the hunter?"

Erika shrugged. She studied Anton, then marched to the candlelit window and peeked outside. Her jaw set, she tramped to Anton and punched him in the shoulder.

"A deer?" She punched him again. "You ass! You scared hell out of me!"

"That's no deer," he stammered, his voice quivering.

Returning to the candle, she grabbed it and headed for the door.

"We didn't unhitch the horse, you fool. I'll do it." Erika opened the door.

"Don't!"

Ignoring him, Erika stepped outside and closed the door behind her. Anton rushed to the window.

Outside, Erika held the candle high. She took two steps toward the animal, which flinched. With a shake of her head, she stalked to the wagon. The deer followed, but kept its distance as she unhitched the horse. Turning again toward the cabin, she waved the candle at the deer, which flinched again.

"It's afraid of the candle," she groused as she reentered the cabin. "You're afraid of a cowardly deer."

"That thing's no deer," Anton repeated. "Have you seen a deer that color red before? A leaf-eating animal with blood down its chest?"

"That wasn't blood, that was just the hide's color."

Anton paced the floor. "It kept up with us on the road."

"So what?"

"On its hind legs the whole time? Running like a man?"

"Well, he's on all fours now." Erika put the candle back in the window and lay down on the bed. "Not as comfy as home, but it will do." She closed her eyes.

"How can you sleep?" Anton nearly shouted.

"I lie down, I close my eyes, and it happens," Erika murmured. "Try it."

"With that thing outside?"

"It doesn't like the candlelight. Leave it burning," she suggested as she rolled over on her side.

Anton crawled into the bed next to his wife. But his eyes remained open, fixed on the flame in the window.

Nothing happened, as Erika predicted. The fire died in the fireplace. And the candle grew shorter and shorter in the silence of the cabin.

The candle burned out. Anton held his breath in the darkness.

Nothing happened.

Putting one tentative foot on the floor, Anton paused, but changed his mind. He lay on his side, curled up with Erika. The sounds of the woods intensified in his ears. Crickets trilled. An owl joined them in the distance. Anton chuckled bitterly.

"'I lie down, I close my eyes. And it happens,'" he muttered.

Hooves suddenly pounded the ground outside the door, small hooves.

Anton squeezed his eyes shut tight.

The cabin's weathered wooden door shattered under the weight of a massive blow. Hooves clattered across the floor.

Eyes still shut, Anton covered his ears. He could not muffle Erika's screams.

"Anton! Help me! Get it off!"

The sounds of flesh being ravaged, the wet feeding of a snorting beast was more than Anton could take. He screamed along with Erika.

At long length she fell silent.

But the beast continued to devour Erika. The sounds sickened Anton. His stomach lurched up into his throat. His ears followed the beast's progress from her belly up to her neck, then after a pause, her legs. After an eternity, it stopped gorging.

Anton waited.

Nothing happened.

He opened one eye. Weak sunlight filtered into the cabin through the grimy, cracked window. Anton rose and rubbed his eyes.

The cabin, homey and comfortable a few hours before, stood wrecked around him. The tabletop rippled, water and time damaged. One of the chairs sat in a heap of parts, unredeemable. Cobwebs filled every corner.

No evidence of Erika presented itself.

Anton shuffled to the window. A candle, roughly five inches tall, stood on the sill. He reached into a pocket, pulled out a box of matches and lit the candlewick.

Squinting and scratching his head, Anton turned in a slow circle. He shambled to the smashed door and left the cabin. No creature awaited him, ready to feast again. He made his way to his wagon. The old buckboard was older still, in the same decrepit shape as the cabin. Rusted beyond repair, the scale still sat in the back. He found no sign of his horse.

Climbing up onto his protesting wagon, Anton plopped down on the bench. Exhaustion overtook him. His shoulders slumped, his eyes closed, his chin dropped down to his chest. Erika's voice echoed in his head.

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

"Ow!" Anton rubbed the shin Erika had just kicked.

Erika chuckled. "Stay awake then. Do you want to fall onto the road?"

"I feel like I'm down there already," Anton moaned. "We won't get home until morning, and we're alone on this road."

Erika slapped his thigh. "I told you we should have left earlier."

Anton's face twitched.

"What's wrong?"

"I don't know," Anton mused. He twisted on the bench. After a few moments he snapped forward again and whipped the reins.

"Don't look back," he said.

Erika began to turn her head.

"Don't!"

"What?"

"I was wrong. We're not alone on this road."

Horror
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About the Creator

marty roppelt

My life-long love of reading coupled with my family background (we're Transylvanian. Yes, there is such a place!) leads me to write mostly in the paranormal and horror genres. Born in Cleveland, Ohio, I also have a heck of a sense of humor.

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