The Haunt: A Midsummer Nightmare

The cabin in the woods had been abandoned for years, but one night, a candle burned in the window. It was a sole beacon of light in the darkness outside. Inside the cabin was a man named Jacob, who was standing in the center of the room rubbing his hands together. The chill air inside felt incongruous with the summer’s usual heat, but Jacob paid it no mind. A slight chill was just that, and it was nothing worth distracting him from his goal. He had come a long way just for it, after all.

Jacob’s brother told him about the cabin long ago. A place of secrets, it was. It sat deep in the woods at the end of a long winding trail well off the beaten path, nothing around for miles. The only company to be had this far out were crickets, owls, and the evening breeze. Not a human set foot out here. It was too perfect.

Between Jacob and the door of the cabin sat a wooden barrel, not a stamp nor marker betrayed its contents. It had been a hard day’s toil brining it this far into the woods, and thankfully the journey was uneventful. However, every so often the wind would murmur, and the leaves would rustle, setting Jacob on edge. His mind would wander nervously for the woods are vast and its eyes are many and unknown. He laughed as he told himself that every preparation had been made and not a soul spied on him as he made the long journey from the roadside to the cabin. For this reason, he brushed away these troublesome thoughts. Fear was silly, and his paranoia was simply in his head. Such things were natural in a circumstance such as this, but this trip was necessary. Once the cabin was in sight, he silently considered himself lucky to make it such a considerable distance unseen, unheard, and unbothered. As soon as he had entered the cabin, he made sure to latch the rusted lock on the door and seal himself inside. The unknown was kept at bay by these four humble walls that surrounded him. Finally, as twilight came and the candle was lit, a weary smile crept across his lips as he knew his worries would soon be over.

“Soon… soon…” he said to himself, casting anxious eyes about the room.

The cabin’s long abandonment left it devoid of most comforts. There was a bedframe caked in a thick layer of dust, a rickety chair entangled in cobwebs, and a fair amount of miscellaneous debris. Near the door was an old pot belly stove speckled with rust. Jacob felt tempted to light a fire in it, just enough to remove the chill from the air, but he decided the better of it. No one must know he was here, and he was already risking enough with the candle. Though he was in the middle of nowhere safely locked inside the cabin, he couldn’t shake the thought in the back of his mind that he wasn’t alone.

As the wind continued to murmur, Jacob spied what he had been anticipating the entire day. In the back corner of the cabin was a trap door. He brushed the dust off the old chair and sat down in it, taking his backpack into his lap. He retrieved a bandana, a flashlight, and a folding shovel. He tied the bandana around his face so that it covered his mouth and nose. He then got up and walked to the trap door. He swung the door wide and descended a steep wooden staircase, his trusty shovel and flashlight both in hand. With each step, the stairs groaned in protest until he arrived down at an old root cellar. The cellar had no cement or paving of any kind, it was only a flat plane of cool dry earth beneath the abandoned cabin. Jacob took a beleaguered sigh as he surveyed the floor, finding a suitable spot in the center where he would begin his task.

With a flourish, he unfolded the shovel and walked to the center of the room. For the first time since setting out, a little bit of hesitation welled in his stomach.

“I must see this through. I am almost rid of it.” He said somberly into the dirt.

He set the flashlight down so that it would illuminate his workspace. The light cast a hazy silhouette of Jacob against the wall. This was it, he knew. Half of his plan had already come to fruition, the rest needed only to follow from this one simple act. After three deep breaths, he grasped the shovel with both hands and stabbed the blade into the dirt with the same ferocity as a sudden knife to the heart. In that very instant, something awoke in Jacob. His apprehension was buried beneath a swathe of single-minded determination. Only one thing resided in his thoughts now: “finish, finish what I started.” The wind continued to rush and howl outside and blow with such a renewed force that it was heard in the cellar. Jacob paid no attention to its protests; he only kept his eyes to the earth as he slowly, carefully dug.

There he stood, moving with strong determination and cool intent. The wind thrummed against the trees and ground above as he focused on widening his hole. He did not rush as he knew he had a lot of earth to move before he was done. The hole needed to be wide, and it needed to be deep, and he did not want to tire before his task was complete. If need be, he would stay the whole night through until it was ready. In flawless mechanical rhythm he scooped and tossed the earth. All the while, the wind moaned with its own rhythm, and it seemed the very earth whispered in reply. Occasionally, Jacob felt a small breeze against his own ear, but he ignored it for it was an unneeded distraction. Soon, Jacob stopped for a single moment and admired the wide shallow rectangular hole he had made, an admirable start. And again, in that moment, the wind moaned, and he felt that draft against his ear. Jacob tried ignoring it again, until he realized that the trap door was closed, and not a single inch of the cellar was exposed to the outside. This single observation woke him from his trance.

He was puzzled, his curiosity piqued by the phantom breeze. As the wind rushed again, he felt the same draft on his ears. This time, his ear drums buzzed, seemingly trying to translate some wordless feeling caught on the wind. Jacob’s heart quickened slightly, his nervousness beginning to peek through his stalwart façade once more. He glanced about the shadowy gray earth, his silhouette pantomiming his masked fear in grim mockery. His heart quickened some more. The draft came softer and quieter against his ear, just his left ear, and buzzed something silent. Jacob took his shovel defensively into one hand and grabbed the flashlight with the other. He cast its white light onto the wall behind him slowly and apprehensively, only to find nothing. Finally, looking around in confusion he managed to ask, “Hello?”

An eternity of silence passed as Jacob stood frozen in anticipation. It was only the wind, and –as Jacob was well-aware– the wind is voiceless. However, despite his unspoken assurance, the draft brushed against his ear once more, its creeping chill pricking every hair on his neck. His blood ran cold at this gentle disturbance. It was not a draft, it was breath. His left ear twitched as he heard the voice ask, “Why?”

Jacob’s face turned stark white as he whipped around. There was nothing, only dust, earth, and a shallow hole. The only movement he saw was the flecks of airborne dust floating past the beam of light. Jacob froze, his knuckles white around the flashlight and shovel and the beats of his heart thumping in his ears.

He refused to speak aloud, but thoughts raced in his head, “There’s no one. It’s only my imagination. I’m hearing things on the wind. I’m alone down here, especially down here.”

He stood there for many minutes more letting his heart slow. He breathed several deep breaths through the bandana, careful to avoid breathing in the dust. With calculated movements, he set the flashlight on the ground again and waited. He then took his shovel into both hands. He contemplated jabbing the earth and continuing his crucial task, but instead he felt for even the slightest breeze as he feigned several stabs at the hole. Soon, in a moment of courage, he stabbed the dirt again. Over several slow agonizing minutes, he regained his rhythm and dug deeper into the hole.

What started around his low to mid-calf ended just at his knees before he took another break to breathe. He took great meticulous pains to keep the hole level so he could measure his progress, anything to help him focus. He felt the chill air fill his lungs and the sting of his already sore muscles with every toss of earth from the hole. Not satisfied with its depth, he bent back down and jabbed the shovel once more into the earth. To his surprise, the flawless rhythm was interrupted by something unexpected: three muffled bangs from above.

In a moment of shock, Jacob looked up. He didn’t know what to make of it at first. A few moments passed, then once more he heard three muffled bangs. He got out of the hole and took seven uneasy steps toward the trap door, his last step creaking loudly on the staircase. He heard it once more and there was no mistaking it. It was the knock knock knocking of bony knuckles against wood, though the sound was well-muffled in the cellar.

Jacob didn’t know what to do. Dozens of thoughts debated each other in his head in rapid-fire succession. “Drat! Did they see the candle? Should I hide? No, they know someone is here. I should go talk to them, make them go away. What should I do if they ask about the barrel?”

His fists grabbed tighter onto the shovel.

“I’ll go up, but I should leave it here. Maybe I should have brought a gun. Guns make sense out here, but shovels raise questions.”

He dropped the shovel by the stairs and opened the trap door. As he climbed up, he noticed the night was exceptionally quiet. The candlelight flickered warmly as he made his way to the door. He spied absolutely no one through the windows and he saw no one on the other side of the door. He paced around the room for another twenty minutes waiting for some sign of movement in the dark wood. With one last glance out the window, he resigned himself from the search. Despite every feeling to the contrary, no one was out there.

He sat down in the chair, face towards the candle. The trees swayed calmly to and fro in the darkness, resolute sentinels of the unknown dark outside. The low rumble of the wind was punctuated by long periods of cutting silence. Still, the light of the candle shimmered and waved in erratic bliss. Something about the small fire light comforted Jacob, something pure and primal. Yet, beyond its faint glimmer, Jacob felt uncertain about lurked amongst the black twilight. This candlelight was truly a boon by which all things were revealed, and its weak warmth brought comfort to a comfortless night. While Jacob was still perturbed from his episode in the cellar, he found a sliver of will in the candle’s glow. He had come here for a purpose, and by hook or by crook he would see it through.

He thought to himself, searching for the most reasonable explanation, “Maybe I am just hearing the cabin settle. It is an old building after all. It’s not like people in the middle of the woods are wandering out and about at this hour. Or maybe I am losing it? Either way, I am so close to the end, I can feel it. Soon. Soon I will be through.”

Once he was done bathing in the safe, warm candlelight, Jacob knew it was time to abandon the candle once more and descend back into the cellar. He cast one more suspicious glance at the window, gave a good knock on the barrel to ensure its cover was secured, and went back down below. Below, a small sense of dread came at that word. Jacob felt reluctant, but he knew what must be done. He must finish what he started or he would never be at peace.

Once more the stairs protested loudly as he went cautiously into the cellar. He set the flashlight in its proper position and resumed work. Once more, he entered his mechanical trance. His muscles and shovel worked in unison, ignoring both his sleeplessness and aching. For an hour, Jacob dug deeper and deeper, keeping subconscious tabs on his strength, careful not to exhaust himself too quickly. The hole must be deep, very deep. A shallow hole would not do. His meticulous planning gave him time, enough time he hoped.

Before long, the hole grew to the middle of his torso. Sweat and dust formed a layer of grime that caked the exposed skin of his face and arms. Now, satisfied with achieving a new milestone, he wiped the grime off his forehead and adjusted the bandana on his face. His sweat tingled in the cool air like the tiniest insects were crawling on the nape of his neck. Having regained his breath, Jacob readied his shovel anew and struck at the earth. At once, to his surprise, a loud clinking noise rung out as the shovel struck something beneath the surface.

A seed of anger blossomed. He was so close to his goal, he knew it; but this obstruction deprived him of precious concentration. He did not bother trying to dig around it, he simply knelt, removed the shovel, and began scooping the loose dirt with his hands. Again, the chill assaulted him as he did, but he ignored it. Pain, reluctance, guilt, nothing could hold him back when he was so close to release. Whispers, faint and distant, tickled is senses as his fingers exhumed the crown of a smooth white stone. Still wedged thoroughly in the dirt, he dug around it like a dog retrieving one of its beloved lost toys, but with the anger and frustration of a child denied his own trinket. Shadows loomed around him as he forgot to reposition his flashlight as he dug. He worked in the encroaching shadow until he felt the stone release from its earthen tomb. As it yielded, Jacob felt a cathartic pang of joy. The stone was immersed in darkness, so he examined it with his hands first. It felt bulbous and smooth, though dashed by ridges and holes on one of its surfaces; and it was remarkably light for a stone. Satisfied, he stood and held it aloft in his left hand and reached for the flashlight with his right. The air murmured as the stone caught the pale light. It was not a stone, but a bleached white skull.

Jacob’s eyes were buried in its empty sockets, the profound realization of it all freezing him to the bone. As his brain began to comprehend, his muscles thawed, and he slumped against the side of the hole in belated fear. Both the flashlight and the skull fell from his hands as his lungs heaved for air. The flashlight landed a few feet away, casting its light at him in cruel angles. The skull fell by his feet, still staring at him, mocking him with its eyeless, mouthless gaze. Jacob could hear it in his heart and feel it in his eyes. He looked to the side, averting his gaze, instead meeting his shadow cast on the wall by the flashlight. It looked at him, not in pity, but disappointment. The shadow then asked him with a whispering croak, “Why did you do it?”

“No. NO!” Jacob screamed.

He went to stand, but something grabbed his shoulder. He dared not look. He sobbed weakly as he kept his eyes shut.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry! Please forgive me!” He pleaded.

“Why did you do it, do it, do it?” the voice asked, the last two words echoing, and fading.

In that moment, the whisper in his ear subsided and the chill left his heart. With a breath, Jacob opened his eyes. The skull was gone. In its place was a smooth pale stone. His shadow on the wall was once again his, and he sighed in relief.

“I need to finish. I can’t spend much longer here. I am losing it!” He said, sure of his realization.

He bent down and recovered his flashlight. As he retrieved his shovel, he heard the same triple knock from earlier. He did not want to lose precious time, sure the noise was some figment of his paranoid delusions, so he continued digging. He continued throwing small shovel-fulls of dirt over the side of the hole as the knocking resumed again and again. Jacob grumbled as he did his best to ignore it, though his heart pounded anxiously. Time no longer was a luxury to him, he needed to finish and be done as soon as he could, but the hole still needed to be deep. After a brief pause, the triple knock came again, but this time urgently. Frustrated, Jacob threw his shovel on the ground.

“Fine!” He yelled.

He grabbed his flashlight and pounded furiously up the stairs. Just as he swung open the trap door, he heard the knock begin anew. Except there was only one knock, then two, then silence as the door clattered open with a thud. The cabin was silent, and the only movement was the flickering light of the candle. Jacob felt uneasy as he felt something hidden watch him from nearby. Wasting no time, he bounded forward, moving around the barrel, and unlatching the front door. He swung the door open wide and bounded outside. Silence gave way to the rustling of wind through the leaves and the symphony of chirping insects. The night was dark and vast. Jacob was careful to stand only by the front door as he flailed the flashlight every which way looking for any sign of the nighttime trespasser.

“Hello?” he called to the black, poorly veiling his unease, “Is anyone there?”

Silence. Jacob waited a handful of heartbeats before asking again.

“Hello? You keep knocking on my door, is everything alright?”

Silence.

“Well, it’s late, and I’m trying to wind down for bed. If you need anything, please come back in the morning. Is that clear?”

Silence. Jacob stood uncomfortably as he surveyed every bush and tree the light touched. Finding nothing, he spoke once more, “Well, I warned you! Go back to your own place and leave me alone!”

And with that, he went back in, shut the door, and locked it, checking twice that the latch was secure. He nearly tripped over the barrel as he spun around and walked straight for the cellar. He knew they were out there; he could feel them watching, their concealed eyes like a searing hot iron pressed against his very skin. He could feel them watching now.

Jacob spied a few sturdy-looking crates as he walked across the cabin. He hole was nearly deep enough and he would need some help climbing out once it reached a certain depth. After throwing the crates down ahead of him, he bounded directly into the cellar and slammed the trap door shut behind him.

Another two hours he worked. He could not enter his trance again. Every two to three scoops he would look around. The shadows moved when he didn’t watch them, and the stones whispered to him. At every odd moment, he looked askance at every pebble and fleck of dust as they all questioned “why.” Terror abounded as Jacob inched further and further into the cold, tomblike ground as his chest disappeared into the hole. His heart pounded and every muscle ached and his lungs begged for oxygen as he peered outward again. He was almost there, perhaps only a foot more until he was deep enough.

A smile began creeping across his face… until something leaned into his ear and whispered, “Jacob…”

Jacob dropped the shovel onto his toe and stopped breathing. Again, the triple knock came from upstairs, though this time louder and more demanding. The knock came again and again with decreasing pauses as he picked the shovel up again, this time with an intent for another use, and marched back up into the cabin.

He threw open the trap door and marched across the room to the front door. His right hand gripping the shovel tightly until his knuckles turned white. Jacob raised the shovel aloft as he unlatched the front door and swung it wide once more. He stepped out, intending to catch this interloper by surprise. However, as he stood there, shovel raised and ready, he looked out onto a vast expanse of nothing. He held the shovel high for a moment more, then lowered it as he looked out defeatedly. He then retreated inside as he locked the door behind him.

He stood there for a moment with his back against the door. He looked dubiously at the barrel as he heard it again: knock knock knock. The noise was not coming from the door, but from within the barrel. Jacob felt his breath leave him as he reached forward hesitantly, holding his shovel defensively in his other hand. At the last bearable second, he snatched the handle of the lid and opened it. To his relief, nothing had changed, and everything was just as he expected. Inside was the cold, dead body of a man, his gray expressionless eyes staring upward from the fetal position in which he was crammed.

Jacob waited a few moments, each measured by a tenuous heartbeat. The body did not stir. He then looked once to his left, then once to his right. He then checked the windows behind him, now sure no one was watching. When he was confident the man was well and truly dead, he replaced the cover of the barrel.

“I am so sorry. Soon this will be over. The hole is almost deep enough, then I will be free. Just wait a little longer.” Jacob said.

The cabin was silent. The candle burned steadily as Jacob recollected himself. He relaxed his grip on the shovel and plunged back downward into the cellar, this time not bothering to shut the door. The creaking stairs noisily cut the silence as he moved swiftly to the edge of his hole. Using his flashlight, he found the crates he had placed and scrambled back down in. The tomb was nearly complete, and when he would be done the following morning, no one would know. His perfect plan was nearly at its fruition.

Jacob doggedly heaved dirt up and out of the hole with labored breaths. Each scoop was another steppingstone to his goal. Each beat of his heart was a second closer to release. He lost track of all time and space, all that mattered was the hole. He could not stand to be here any longer, but he could not leave the task unfinished.

“No one must know, no one must know!” Jacob recited to himself in hurried words.

At one point in his exasperation, Jacob’s bandana slid off his face and he began to breathe mouthfuls of dust, but he did not care. After one last heave of dirt over the lip of the hole, he collapsed. A manic smile carved itself across his face and dust-choked laughter coughed out of his throat.

“It’s done! Deep. Deep! So deep, no one will know! No one will find it! Free. Free!” Jacob laughed for a moment, but then his face turned stark, and his body stilled, “Not free yet.”

He slowly stood up and crept over the crates. With weary, searching limbs he pulled himself up and out of the hole, barely a sprinkle of dirk loosening from the rim as he did so. He gingerly placed the shovel by the hole, ready for its final task. He furtively crept forward and onto the stairs, each step letting the tiniest squeak out in reply. His face writhing in obsession and his chest convulsing with hysteria, he slithered into the cabin.

There he stood, face to face with the barrel. The candlelight flickered anxiously as though agitated by some unseen draft. Jacob simply stood there, relishing the moment. He knew the moment had come. But just as he prepared to take a step forward, he felt something stir. Silently, he watched as two pale desiccated arms rose and pushed the cover up off the barrel, letting it noiselessly fall to the side. They each grabbed the rim of the barrel and pulled their parent corpse up into the revealing candlelight. Jacob could only gaze in abject horror as the corpse and its unearthly blue eyes stared directly into his soul. Jacob was frozen by the chill of the grave as the candle danced wildly. Then, two long lanky legs stepped forward with wide ponderous steps, one and then then other. The corpse took another two shambling steps towards Jacob before it stretched to its full height.

It opened its mouth to speak, a scowl spreading across its lips and its dry vocal cords crackling with each whisper, “Why did you do it… brother?”

Jacob forced himself to speak as the corpse of his brother waited for a reply, “I… I… I am sorry, Cam. I didn’t mean it! I never wanted this!”

The corpse looked down on him, seeming to grow almost imperceptibly in height with each passing moment of judgement. Jacob felt small as the corpse loomed over him, his own guilt cutting deeper than any knife. The room darkened visibly at the edges and dull crimson blood oozed in from the walls and ceiling, at first a trickle, then a pour.

“Lies.” The corpse croaked.

The corpse took three wet lumbering strides towards Jacob as he retreated into the cellar. At the foot of the stairs, he watched as the corpse took light, soundless steps on the stairs. The blood poured in from the open aperture as the corpse nonchalantly descended, its eyes never leaving Jacob’s gaze. As much as he tried, Jacob could not look away.

“Why did you do it, brother?” The corpse asked again.

This time, Jacob had no reply. It was as if all words fled from him as he heard the hellish revenant’s voice.

“Why did you do it, brother?” It asked once more, this time a choir of ethereal voices –some young, some old, some male, some female– all repeatedly asked “why” in dissonant harmony.

Blood flowed around Jacob’s feet and into the hole as he took steps backward, desperately trying to avoid his brother’s questions. He then felt his heels reach the lip of the hole and dared not move any further. He felt an unbearable pain in his left shoulder as he beheld the corpse standing immediately in front of him wet with crimson, looming over him with impossible height and yet standing eye-to-eye with him in the same moment.

“Why?” The corpse asked once more.

Jacob whimpered and only managed the words, “I’m sorry, brother.”

The corpse’s eyes furrowed with anger and it pushed a bony hand into Jacob. Jacob fell six feet into his own hole. While he was expecting to land in a sea of blood, he felt his back thud against the dry dirt. In his last seconds of consciousness, Jacob saw the warm eyes of his brother as he had been in life, though now full of pity and disappointment.

A moment later, all was silent. The cellar was now simply a flat plane of earth, smooth and unblemished by spade or pick, its trap door firmly shut and sealed. The cabin above was dark and quiet. The dusty remains of a bedframe and a rickety old chair entangled in cobwebs and miscellaneous debris were scattered about the floor along with a cold, rusted pot belly stove. Other than that, there was no barrel or backpack. There simply remains an unlit candle in the windowsill, long burnt out. The cabin was entirely abandoned, just as it had been for many years.

No one knows what happened there or whatever happed to Jacob, but you can go there today. Perhaps the dirt and the trees will whisper it to you, just like they have done for so many others. The cabin sits right off a road in the woods at the end of a long, winding path. Just be careful with what secrets you bring with you, or else they just might never leave.