A Candle in the Storm

The cabin in the woods had been abandoned for years, but one night, a candle burned in the window. On the few occasions, over the last century, when a candle had been spotted, someone’s life had been snuffed out.

The cabin sat at the base of a mountain that the locals worked hard to ignore even though it occupied a good portion of the sky. They cast their eyes down, wouldn’t speak of it, and stayed on their side of the river. The word “evil” didn’t need to be said, because it was felt. People passing through the town sensed that the locals were peculiar. First, because they didn’t seem to appreciate the beauty of the area where they lived. Second, the town was physically divided with one half living upstream and the other half living downstream. None of the townspeople wanted to build their home on the riverbank directly across from the mountain. No one wanted to live where the mountain’s shadow could reach them.

The town was dying, with more and more people leaving each year. They could have easily flourished with the right marketing. Tourists and campers would have fished and kayaked. Nature lovers would have relished the challenge of the hike and the views from the top. But every time a young person of business approached the townspeople about selling some land to build a hotel, they were firmly turned away. The locals ensured that no one was encouraged to come and especially not to stay. The town was dying but they would cling with white knuckles to ensure the mountain was not left unguarded.

Only one man, about a hundred years ago, had remained persistent, despite the town’s discouragement, and managed to find someone willing to sell him a small parcel of land to build a hunting cabin. Maybe the local who caved thought the man would be stronger than the evil as he was a incredibly large. He had to duck his head through doorways, his booming laugh filled a room, and his smile took up half his face. He planned to visit every other week to fish, hunt, or for some peace, but not long after it was built, the locals noticed him change. His stays at the cabin became longer and more frequent, until he hardly ever came into town. When the locals did see him, his shoulders were hunched, he wouldn’t make eye contact and his hair and beard were unkempt. He was still chatty but he only talked to himself, constantly whispering unintelligibly as he purchased supplies. It had only been a couple months but the locals could see the evil taking root and could not stop it.

When the first storm of the season swept in and the river began to rise, the townspeople new the man would be unaware of the danger and hiked out to the riverbank. Upon seeing a candle in the window of the cabin, two friends set out in a canoe to bring the man to safety. All three of them were never seen again.

Over the years, more incidents occurred. A few locals were killed but mostly visitors who didn’t know to stay away. And while it was still unsafe to step foot anywhere on the mountain, the evil seemed to house itself in the cabin.

***

Graham considered himself an adventurer and sought beautiful views amongst mountains, woods and bodies of water. This town had all three.

The red-haired man who sold him his bait was incredibly helpful as he listed the neighboring areas that were prime fishing spots. His smile slipped and the skin around his eyes tightened when Graham stated he was actually planning on fishing in town. The sudden change in demeanor made Graham think he was going to refuse to give him the bait but then the red-haired man glanced at the cloudless sky.

“The winds around the mountain are tricky. If you see any dark clouds, you come in right away,” the man said firmly.

Graham agreed.

There were a couple white clouds and a small breeze by the time Graham put his canoe in the water. He didn’t have much success with the fishing but he wasn’t bothered by that as he floated downstream. He forgot about fishing all together as he reached the point in the river where the mountain’s shadow fell. Thick trees grew at the base but became sparser and then transitioned to rock. The jagged peaks looked like they could cut the clouds out of the sky.

As he brought his gaze back down, a focused look through the trees revealed a cabin. A cracked window glowed orange but the sun was to his left. He turned around but there was only a field and beyond the field, the highway.

His canoe gave a lurch and he grabbed the sides. He had been so absorbed, he hadn’t notice that the breeze had become a wind or that the clouds were a grey ceiling. He was no longer floating downstream but was being pushed across the river towards the mountain. He took up his paddle but his efforts made no difference. His boat bumped the riverbank just as a sheet of rain descended and lightening cracked.

He pulled his boat out of the water and stood for a moment trying to decide if it was a passing summer storm or something more serious. Unable to see the other side of the river though, he grabbed his backpack and started to climb in the general direction of the cabin. His feet found a path that led him to the shelter.

The trees crowded the cabin. The structure looked twisted and sections of shingles were gone from the roof. The orange glow that Graham had seen was a single candle. While he didn’t understand who would be staying in a cabin like this, he felt relief that someone would be there to let him in.

He went around the side of the cabin, passed an ancient boot, gingerly climbed the steps to the front door and knocked. The door hung crooked and there was no knob. When no one answered, he nudged it open.

He entered slowly so as not to startle anyone but as he peeked around the door and called out, he found emptiness. A quick glance showed it was one large room. Behind the door it was a corner of cobwebs. There was no one there and nowhere to hide.

He shut the door carefully and took a couple steps inside. A fireplace stood on the wall opposite and there were broken bits of furniture strewn about. There was a hole in the floor to his right and a blanket lay in a tangled mess. He started to unravel it but found a Ouija board so he covered it up again. He straightened and turned slowly. There were beer bottles, flashlights and long bits of fur. He couldn’t recognize the animal. A cooler sat abandoned in the corner and all the windows were cracked except the window to the left of the fireplace which was boarded shut. When he finished a full turn, he faced the window with the candle.

He walked over to it. The candle sat in one of those holders with a loop that a finger could be slipped through. He picked it up and turned around slowly, not wanting to blow it out. His backpack had a towel, sunscreen and a first aid kit but no matches or a flashlight. He had planned to be back long before dark.

Not wanting to fall through the floor, he decided not to venture farther into the space. He laid his towel in the corner to sit and rested his back against the wall. He settled in to wait for the storm to die or the person who lit the candle to return. How they had lit the candle without leaving any footprints or where they had gone he did not understand. His pathway through the cabin was clearly marked in the dirt.

The wait was longer than he expected. The wind howled and the cabin grew darker as it officially became night. The rain drummed rhythmically. His eyes grew heavy and he felt himself sliding sideways down the wall. Through half lidded eyes he thought for a moment he saw a man standing in the corner opposite him, head bowed. He jerked himself upright. Nothing but darkness occupied any of the corners but his foot almost hit the candle. He pushed the candle farther away from him and then lay on his side, using the backpack as a pillow. He stared at the corner, unsure what shadows had come together to imitate the shape of a man but he let it go and drifted off to sleep.

***

When Graham woke, he was still curled into a ball on his side. The candle burned in front of him but the glow within the cabin had changed. He sat up.

Four young girls sat cross legged in a circle on the ragged blanket in the middle of the room, each with a flashlight beside them. The storm still raged.

“Hey!” Graham barked angrily.

None of them seemed to hear him. They didn’t look up or even flinch.

He frowned, confused. The two girls closest to the door looked like sisters. The one on the far right had her hair in two dark braids. He could see the girl opposite him the best. Long, blond hair hung straight on either side of her face. All of their heads were tilted down, staring at something.

He got up from the floor and walked over to stand between the sisters. His movement didn’t draw their attention either. The Ouija board sat in the middle of their circle. Graham felt his stomach clench.

“Hello?” he tried again but he already knew they wouldn’t respond. The room seemed different as he looked around but he wasn’t sure how. Another candle, just like his, sat in the window. He reached out to nudge the girl on his right when the planchette started to move of its’ own volition. The four girls sucked their breathed in sharply and their eyes bulged.

“R-U-N,” the girl with braids said out loud as the planchette paused at each letter.

They waited for more, then jumped as the planchette flew off the board, landing in the cold fireplace.

“Run,” the blonde whispered.

Message confirmed, the sisters and the girl with braids scrambled toward the door. One of the sisters had pulled it open when they looked back and realized the blonde was still sitting there, rocking back and forth, eyes closed, fists clenched, muttering.

“Julie, come on!” The girl with the braids went back and grabbed her arm but the blonde continued to rock.

“Julie, this isn’t funny!” The sister holding the door yelled. As she finished berating her, the door whipped away from her hand and slammed shut.

The blonde tilted her head back and screamed, tears streaming from her tightly closed eyes. Her hands moved up to grab fistfuls of hair and with a quick yank, she pulled them out. She sobbed as she held the chunks of hair and bits of scalp in front of her, then opened her hands and let them fall. She brought her hands up again but this time, placed her thumbs on her eyes. She inhaled as if bracing herself, then pressed her thumbs past her eyelids into her eye sockets. Blood began to fall, mixing with her tears and she screamed again. The screams of her friends joined hers.

The girl with the braids backed away from her friend, horrified. Deciding she was beyond helping, she turned to run, but as she shifted, the floorboard gave way and one leg disappeared into a hole. Her chest and chin hit the ground and she lay, stunned, for a moment. She managed to prop herself up on her elbows, then threw her head back and shrieked. The shriek became moans as she slowly managed to roll over and sit up. She held onto her leg with one hand as she scooted back to pull it out of the hole. Bone broke skin.

The sisters, still standing by the door, looked ready to be sick. They turned around and yanked on the door. The knob turned but the door wouldn’t open. The girls, in their panic, pushed each other aside. An elbow caught one of the girls in the face and her nose exploded in a spray of blood. While the one clutched her face, the other continued to pull, until the knob suddenly came free and she flew backwards, cracking her head against the floor.

The door finally swung open. The sister with the broken nose was the first to register and she staggered out without looking back. The sister who hit her head was clearly concussed but managed to get on her hands and knees and crawl out the door. The girl with braids had stopped screaming but was breathing heavily. She looked at the door, hopelessly overwhelmed by the distance with her broken leg. She looked back at Julie who continued to rock and whimper with her hands on her knees, bloody palms up.

Julie abruptly went still. The girl with the braids stiffened. Julie slowly raised her head and opened her eyes, directing her empty sockets at her friend.

The girl with the braids panicked and started scooting, trying to get herself as far away from her friend as possible, one hand holding her leg together while the other pulled her across the floor. Breathing hard, every shift an immense effort, she managed to drag herself out the door with Julie’s empty gaze following her.

Julie continued to sit there. Graham had backed away into the corner unable to move as the horror unfolded.

The man that Graham thought he had seen as he was drifting off to sleep was back, standing in the corner behind Julie. He was hard to see but he was large with wild hair and beard. His arms hung by his side and ragged clothes hung off his frame. The man didn’t seem to be a part of this moment, the same way Graham wasn’t.

As if Julie had been released, her calm broke. She blinked a couple times, her eyelids sweeping nothing. Confusion creased her forehead and she started breathing hard. She leaned forward and crawled around on her hands and knees, patting the ground, her hands tangling the blanket, brushing her fallen hair and sweeping the Ouija board aside. They eventually found her flashlight but dropped it when she realized it didn't help. She began to sob as she climbed to her feet, arms out in front her searching. Graham’s throat tightened, holding back tears as he watched her struggle until she finally crossed the room, found the door and headed out into the storm.

Only Graham and the hulking shadow remained.

***

Graham jerked awake and sat upright breathing hard. He scrambled backwards, back against the wall as he looked around the cabin but everyone was gone. The candle remained on the floor where he left it. A third of it had burned away.

He tried to convince himself it was just a dream but the vision had included too many details that he didn’t believe his subconscious could have thought of on its own.

The storm continued to beat at the walls and shake the windowpanes. He still couldn’t leave, but maybe he wouldn’t have another vision if he stayed awake.

Time passed. He changed positions. Unsure of when it started, his exhale became a fog in front of his face. He shivered. His head dipped. He jerked it upwards and realized the window on the opposite wall was covered in a spidery frost. He stood up to look out the window above him where he had found his candle and the world outside was blanketed in snow.

He turned back around, only to find he was no longer alone and the cabin had changed again.

Three men in parkas were busy moving around the cabin, unaware Graham was there. There was no hole in the floor, the Ouija board was gone and the doorknob was back in place. One man had the old, moldy blanket wrapped around himself and was sitting cross legged in front of the fireplace. A few flames were already dancing in the hearth and they were being fed by a man with a grey ponytail from a pile of wood that used to be furniture. A man with a beard was using a hatchet to hack a bedframe apart.

“I just don’t feel right about it,” he said as he pried a couple nails loose.

“Clearly nobody lives here,” the man with the ponytail argued.

“Then who left the candle in the window?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” he said eventually, “but if somebody comes back and is mad that we burned their furniture, we can easily replace this crap. It was an emergency.”

Graham placed his hand on the wall to steady himself and quietly backed away even though he had a feeling nothing he did would draw their attention. He picked up his towel, wrapped it around myself and crouched in the corner to wait for it to be over.

Wind whistled through a broken window to the left of the fireplace and a drift of snow covered the floor. The man with the ponytail grabbed the boards and held them over the window as the man with the beard nailed them in place. As they secured the last board, they took a step back, admiring their handiwork. They gave each other satisfied smiles but the grins quickly fell as they turned to look at the man on the floor. He was muttering to himself. They exchanged worried glances.

The man with the ponytail seemed to think of something and walked over to open a cooler. Graham spotted a few fish inside but he pulled out three beers.

“Here Jack,” he said as he popped the cap off of one, “Relax a little.”

He held the beer out. Jack reached up slowly to take it but cradled it in his lap instead of taking a sip. The man with the ponytail waited for more of a response but received nothing but silence.

“There’s no need to worry,” the man with the ponytail said reassuringly, “We got firewood, we got fish, we can melt as much water as we need.”

Jack remained unresponsive, huddled in the blanket. The man with the ponytail sighed and glanced at the man with the beard, but he shrugged too. The man with the ponytail handed him his beer and then sat down on the cooler. The man with the beard settled on the other side of Jack and all three fell into an uneasy silence.

After a particularly long swig, the man with the ponytail studied the bottle in his hand and started singing softly.

“Ninety-nine bottles of beer on the wall. Ninety-nine bottles of beer.”

The man with the beard chuckled.

His laugh was interrupted by the squeak of skin dragging on wet glass. The man in the blanket didn’t move but the heads of his friends whipped around to stare at the window where Graham had found his candle. Their eyes locked for a moment before they got up to stand in front of it. Their mouths gaped as letters appeared, as if being drawn by a finger.

R-U-N

The man with the beard broke the silence. “Is someone outside?”

The man with the ponytail dragged his fingers over the word, wiping it away.

“No,” he whispered, “Something is inside.”

The men shared a look of terror, then turned in unison and started picking up their belongings. They threw their backpacks on, grabbed either side of the cooler and were about to move towards the door when they noticed Jack was still on the ground, rocking back and forth in a way that was all too familiar to Graham.

“Jack, stop it! We gotta go!” The fear in his voice made Graham shiver harder.

Jack continued to rock. They didn’t exist anymore.

“Jack!” Exasperated, the man with the ponytail dropped his end of the cooler and shook him by the shoulders.

Jack screamed. He snatched the hatchet off the ground and slashed erratically as he climbed to his feet. The man with the ponytail managed to avoid the first swing but was off balance when Jack brought the hatchet around a second time. The back of the hatchet hit the side of his head and he collapsed in a heap.

“Hey! Hey! Hey!” The man with the beard moved forward but was too late. Their friend lay on the floor between them, blood pooling slowly. Jack faced the man with the beard, feet wide, chest heaving, hatchet raised. It was the first time Graham had seen his face and he had his eyes squeezed tightly shut.

The man with the beard stood frozen, his mouth gaping open in shock. Shock changed to confusion as he also noticed Jack’s eyes were closed. The man with the beard slowly lifted his foot and took a step off the side. Jack didn’t seem to hear. He took another, stepping over his friend. Jack spun the wrong way. A few more and the man with the beard was behind him and he leapt onto Jack’s back.

Jack screamed again and started spinning. He fought like an animal caught in a trap with no regard for damage to himself or his surroundings. There wasn’t much left in the cabin to destroy.

Jack lashed out with the hatchet in the space over his shoulder, his eyes still tightly shut. He hacked at himself as much as his friend and they soon had blood running down their faces. Graham saw the hatchet get stuck twice. Once, in the bicep of the man with the beard which made him give a strangled cry, and once in Jack’s own shoulder which he didn’t seem to notice.

The man with the beard managed to grab the arm that held the hatchet to stop it from coming down again, but Jack reached his other arm up and around the back of his friend’s head, pressing his throat down on his own bleeding shoulder. The man with the beard started to gargle and choke. Arms flailing, he grabbed a chunk of Jack’s hair and pulled. Jack howled but his grip didn’t loosen. His inhuman strength provided by his need to survive forced the man with the beard to reach for his friend’s eyes. Jack finally let go after he had been truly blinded.

He dropped the hatchet. The man with the beard hopped off of his back. He stared at his hands which were covered in blood and eyeball fluids. He watched as Jack staggered with his arms outstretched and then kicked him from behind so that he sprawled forward onto his hand and knees in front of Graham. Graham shrank into the corner, becoming as small as possible. Jack raised his head and they held each other’s gazes for a moment but then Jack crawled away.

The man with the beard looked at the hatchet and then over at Jack. He started to bend down, as if to pick it up, but then straightened and kicked it into a corner. Keeping an eye on Jack, he went over to where the man with the ponytail had fallen and felt for a pulse. He seemed to find one but could not pick him up with his injured arm. He wrapped one arm around his chest and started to drag him to the door. Jack started to sob just as his friend turned the knob. The wind pushed the door inward. The winter storm rushed in.

The stairs were not visible under the drifts but the man with the beard pushed forward anyway. Graham leaned forward onto his hands, uncertain how they would get through a wall of snow. The man with the beard took five steps and stopped. His shoulders sagged. With a sob, he let his friend drop. He looked back at the cabin. Tears welled in his eyes. He looked down at his friend one more time, then he clutched his injured arm and staggered into the storm. The only thing Graham could see of the man with the ponytail, was his boots.

Graham pulled back and sat on his heels again. He gripped his towel tighter around himself, every inch of his skin frozen, but his insides turned to ice when he looked up and the noticed the large man standing in the opposite corner again.

Despite Jack’s clumsy crawling, Graham maintained his focus on the monstrous shadow, still unsure if it was aware that he was there.

A pile of snow flowed from the door by the time Jack found his way outside.

Only Graham and the hulking shadow remained.

***

He blinked. Everyone was gone. He was back in the dirty, broken cabin that he had arrived in. His candle burned in front of him on the floor. Only a third of it was left.

The storm would not die. He went to the window and confirmed it was a summer storm. He let the towel fall from his shoulders. A candle burned on the window ledge. Confused, he turned back around.

Everything had changed again. A fire burned in the hearth fed by logs instead of furniture. A bed sat under the window to the left of the fireplace. A dresser sat on the right. A single rocking chair and table was placed in front of the fire. It all looked cozy and would have been welcoming if it hadn’t been for the moaning.

The giant man that kept appearing in the corner during the last moments of chaos sat at the edge of the bed. He rocked back and forth, whispering to himself, looking around the room without really seeing anything.

Graham wanted to run but had no time. As the man turned his head towards the window, a tree limb crashed through and tiny bits of vicious glass hit him fully in the face. He screamed and brought his hands up. Blood immediately seeped between his fingers.

Graham stared in horror. Knowing he couldn’t help and unable to bear watching again, he moved to the door. As he reached for the knob, it swung open and crashed into the wall. Two men rushed in, soaking wet. Graham backed into the corner and got out of their way.

The first man was small with a large nose while the second man had red hair and a friendly face except it was pinched with anxiety.

“Oh my god!” The red-haired man breathed. “Robert!”

Robert lifted his face and they briefly glimpsed the extent of the damage but then he ducked his head again. The red-haired man gaped for a moment but then moved forward and gently touched his elbow. Robert flinched and stood up.

“Robert, we have to go,” he said gently.

Robert didn’t respond and started walking slowly towards the fireplace. Thunder rolled as lightening flashed. The would-be rescuers looked up nervously.

“Robert,” fear and anger started to creep into the red-haired man’s voice, “It’s not safe. We have to leave!”

He lunged for his collar to turn Robert back around but missed and got a fistful of his long hair. It ripped out of his skull as Robert jerked away. He roared while the red-haired man stared at his hand in shock. Robert’s hands found the rocking chair and he whipped it around, knocking the man with the large nose to the ground. The red-haired managed to shield him from the second blow as what was left of the rocking chair came down with a splintering crack. The man with the large nose scrambled towards the door and yelled.

“Run!”

The red-haired man hesitated as he watched Robert rampage through the cabin. Graham huddled in the corner, arms over his head, as bits of furniture went flying. When the pieces of the rocking chair were too small, he picked up the table, then he moved on to the dresser. There was no interrupting his frenzy. The red-haired man fled.

With nothing left to destroy, Robert stood in the middle of the room, panting. After a few moments, as his breathing calmed, he put his arms out, just like the others, as if responding to a call and stumbled out the door.

Kneeling on the ground, Graham listened to the storm for a few moments, then slowly lowered his arms. He sighed in relief finding himself in the old, broken cabin, his candle in front of him.

He took a deep breath. Now that he had seen where it all began, there wouldn’t be anymore visions he reasoned.

He raised his eyes and looked past the glow of the candle. The hulking shadow stood in the corner. Graham blinked and the hulking shadow was in front of him. He squatted down, bringing his face within the light. Graham met Robert’s eyeless gaze. Robert picked up the candle which was just a puddle of wax. Graham realized he was out of time. Robert drew a breath and snuffed the candle out. In the dark, Graham felt hands cup his face and two thumbs move over his eyelids.