Twisted

The cabin in the woods had been abandoned for years, but one night, a candle burned in the window. There was something off about the way the small flame flickered, like someone was just out of sight, breathing heavily onto it. The hair on Amanda’s arms stood up and her instincts quaked under her goosebumps.

“Is there a groundskeeper?”

Callen gestured around, “does it look like there’s a groundskeeper? No one has been here in almost six years.”

Amanda pointed to the candle. Callen stopped and flung his duffle bag strap over his shoulder, his brow creasing in the middle like it did when he was particularly perplexed, “It’s probably from…” He trailed off. He couldn’t come up with a single logical conclusion, and that pissed him off. “Look, if you want to sleep in the truck, then sleep in the truck.” He grabbed two more duffle bags off of the ground and took long strides to the cabin door.

Amanda rolled her eyes and let his comment slide. She would just let him go in first. He did, and after he had checked the cabin out he didn’t bother saying a word to Amanda about the coast being clear. He was in a hell of a mood tonight, but the drive had been long, and they hadn’t eaten since morning. They’d only be there for two nights anyway. She took a step towards the cabin, shivered, and glanced back towards her truck. She considered sleeping on the strawberry stained seats, cuddling with the trash littering the floorboards – she would feel safer, at least.

She decided her reaction was stupid and unnecessary, but as they unpacked and changed for bed, she only felt more uneasy.

That night Amanda had the most vivid, realistic nightmare she could ever remember having.

Amanda stopped suddenly. The noise was coming from in front of her now. It sounded like someone vigorously cracking their knuckles or popping their joints, but in an endless succession. The sound was something she could only describe as unnatural, and she made a sharp turn and started running further into the woods. She pulled her knife from her back pocket and opened it while she ran.

Amanda tripped over roots, stumbled over rocks, and slipped over leaves. She could barely breathe, but for a moment it didn’t matter; that’s about when she realized her body was convinced it was running for its life. What the fuck was behind her? She was so scared that she was begging aloud, “please stop, please…please stop…”

She tumbled into a clearing, right back in front of the cabin,

“What? How?” Amanda asked breathlessly. It was still behind her. WHAT was IT?

It sounded like if bubble wrap was made of bone, or like she imagined it would sound if someone was running on breaking limbs. She was crying and shaking. She ran up to the cabin door. Deep down, she knew being here was the worst possible outcome, but she was scared and desperate to escape being actively hunted. She flung open the cabin door, and quickly dove inside – it slammed shut behind her.

Amanda’s eyes found the candle first, and then her ears registered the horrible popping that now sounded from the corner of the dusty, dark, and seemingly barren room. She could do nothing but watch as the shadow of a man appeared right outside of the candle light. It stepped into the light and she immediately wished it hadn’t. It looked like a naked man, but his skin was grey, and although his face, legs, and torso faced away from her, his feet and hands were pointing towards her. Amanda heard nothing but silence as his back broke in half. He folded backwards, the top half of his spine resting against the bottom half of it. She could see his face now; he had corpse eyes, two holes for a nose, and an opening for a mouth that looked like it had been scooped out with a sharpened ice cream spoon. She felt like she was seconds away from losing control of her bowels.

He opened his mouth and the joint popping noise erupted around the room. She started crying harder. He was silent when he moved, and the sound she heard was coming from his mouth. . . she had been herded here.

Amanda considered using her knife to slit her own wrists in that moment.

She could not move.

Amanda woke up and screamed, jumping out of the bed. She cracked her head on the bedside table, and the lamp light flicked on. Callen leaned over the side of the bed groggily. Amanda was sitting on the floor, shaking and tearing up, while holding her head.

“What happened?”

——

In the morning, Amanda wasn’t interested in speaking to Callen. She thought he hadn’t been comforting enough last night. She was legitimately terrified, and could have been hurt, and he couldn’t even manage to get out of bed to check on her.

Amanda’s silence was fine with Callen because he woke up feeling more than a little under the weather. Maybe he was coming down with a bad cold. To avoid Amanda’s clenched jaw, and patronizing stare, Callen went out to collect kindling for a fire later.

Amanda watched Callen collecting sticks from the front window with a cup of black coffee secured tightly between both of her hands. Her eye caught the candle and she set down her drink and picked it up to examine it. It felt icy to the touch, it was old, and there was a sigil carved near the base. Amanda quickly put the candle back down and wiped her hands on her jeans before picking her cup back up. Amanda was an avid fan of bad horror flicks, and she knew better than to fuck with stuff with a description like the ghost candle. That’s what she was referring to it as now.

Amanda glanced back out of the window and blinked when she realized Callen was talking to someone. Callen looked uncomfortable, and she noticed he kept taking steps back away from the stranger. The person looked male but Amanda found it difficult to concentrate on or discern any of his actual facial features. The man turned and left and Callen came back inside quickly. Amanda was still confused by the man’s appearance. Callen came to stand with Amanda in front of the window, “That man said he needed help.”

“What?” Amanda squinted at him. She was still trying to reconcile what she thought she saw, or didn’t see.

“He said he was injured, but I couldn’t see anything wrong with him, and the way he spoke…”Callen rubbed his upper arms, he looked paler than usual, “it was so toneless.” Amanda put her hand on Callen’s arm, he was burning up.

“Why don’t you go lay down for awhile, babe? Don’t worry about the man, I’m sure someone will be able to help him.”

Callen didn’t seem like he heard her, he just continued staring out of the window. Amanda watched him glance down at the candle; his gaze lingered there for a moment and then he turned and walked back towards the bedroom.

That night Amanda had another nightmare.

Amanda stood at the front cabin window, the candle was burning again. Outside, the featureless man from earlier stood. His back was towards her, and so were his feet. She wanted to move. She felt an overwhelming desire to hide.

But she couldn’t move. The man started to bend backwards…

—-

The next morning, Callen’s health was much worse, and Amanda’s mental state was anything but stable. They both agreed it was time to leave. They packed the last of the bags into the truck, and Amanda couldn’t help but look back at the cabin. The candle was lit.

“Did you light that?” Amanda whispered to Callen. But he was gone.

No one ever found him.

Amanda has since gone mute, and spends most of her days coloring charcoal pictures of faceless men, creatures with twisted bodies, and single candle flames.