Be Well

The cabin in the woods had been abandoned for years, but one night, a candle burned in the window. Strange. Iris had been hiking back to basecamp for over an hour and thought that when she found light it would be from her little sister angrily heating a pot of bland beans for dinner. They’d fight about how she couldn’t go off into the woods alone and end up side by side in their tent, telling secrets and giggling like they were children again. Anna would fall asleep first and wake up to find Iris gone again. And the cycle would repeat itself as it had for years.

Instead, Iris found herself staring through the dark at a decrepit cabin sitting in a plot of overgrown brush.

As she moved closer to it, she could see that someone had tried to burn it down, the wood splintering and charred. An uneasy feeling seeped in. Maybe Anna had been right. Maybe she should have waited until tomorrow to hike Peck’s Peak. But she had wanted to watch the sunset. Although, now that she thought about it… had she? She couldn’t remember the sun going down. The only thing she knew for sure was that she had been walking forever. But this spot felt familiar. Except, she didn’t remember a cabin being here before. Unless she was more lost than she was willing to admit. She recalled the park ranger saying there was an abandoned cabin near Vale River, but she hadn’t passed one. And she couldn’t hear any rushing water. She couldn’t hear anything.

She held her breath and listened. Silence. It sounded like death. No cool night’s breeze rustled the trees, no owls hooting, no river’s hum. Nothing. It was too silent for a forest at night. She let out a ragged breath and took a step back, shuddering. She was definitely lost.

A panic attack starts to rear its ugly head. Iris anxiously looks around, her breathing erratic. There are no landmarks, no signs. Nothing to point her in the right direction. Only trees and the darkness. Of course, this would happen, she thought to herself. She hadn’t had a panic attack in months, but they always crept in when she was feeling lost, alone, or not in control. Now she was hit with the physical manifestations of her triggers. Her skin started to squirm. Her brow glistened with sweat. A white static flooded her ears. And then the tunnel vision started. She loses her footing and falls to her knees. Her thoughts racing. You’re going to die, you’re never going home, this was a mistake, you’re such an idiot. She shakes her head, willing those thoughts out. She takes a deep breath and opens her eyes, squinting through the tunnel vision. Again, all she can see is the candle in the window. A beacon. Her mother’s words flit through her mind. Never judge a book by its cover.

Shakily, she stands, gathering herself. Get it together. Iris takes a purposeful step forward. Then another. As she moves towards the cabin, the forest sounds come rushing in. The leaves crunching beneath her feet, the wind blowing against her, a bird chirping nearby. The night was just as alive as her. She starts to laugh, shaking off her panic.

The front of the cabin is just as abysmal as the rest of it. What was once a porch lies in shambles on top of an unkept flower bed. The wind rattles an old dried-out wreath against the front door. Iris gathers her courage and knocks.

Nothing.

She knocks again. Louder.

Her shoulders fall. She closes her eyes and sighs.

CLICK.

Her eyes open. Fully alert. The door is opening. Soft light from inside the cabin illuminates her worried eyes. She moves slowly to the doorway’s edge, searching for whoever opened the door. There is no one.

She pokes her head in to find an old tattered couch in front of a barren fireplace with empty photo frames sitting on the mantle above. She slowly enters, the floorboards creaking under a weight they haven’t felt in decades. She pauses. If there was anyone in the cabin, they would have heard that. But still, no one comes.

The candle flickers in the window. Who lit this then, she asks herself. The candle burns a deep shade of orange. And despite being surrounded by melted wax, it still stands tall. As Iris goes to pick it up, the front door slams behind her. She screams, caught. She turns, expecting to find the owner of the cabin watching her. Nothing.

Fear immediately sets in. She runs to the front door and pulls on the knob, but the door won’t budge. She bangs on it, screaming for help, yet knowing it's futile. There’s no one out there. It’s just her and this cabin.

A song softly starts to play. She can’t remember the name of it, but she knows it's one of her father's favorites. For a moment, she calms. Lulled into a sense of security, she starts to hum along with it. Seriously, why can't I remember the name of this song, her mind screams. She stops humming. Now she's just annoyed.

“Who’s there?!” She frantically yells as she looks for the source of the music. In the corner, she finds an old record player spinning. But no record.

She stumbles back. This isn't right. Tears start to fall. She wraps her arms around herself and sinks to the floor. I shouldn’t be here, she weeps.

Taking in the cabin before her, she suddenly darkens. Anger bubbling up. “What do you want from me?”, she yells. The cabin starts to shake. She braces herself against the wall, the anger leaving as quickly as it came. The shaking stops as a loud whistle starts to blow.

She stands and follows the piercing sound to a small kitchen where a kettle beckons to her from the stove. A teacup sits next to it with a bag in it, waiting for hot water. She picks up the tea bag out of the cup and smells it. Chamomile. Her favorite. She looks around again, suspicious. This cannot be real.

Out of options, she gives in, pours the water into the cup, and waits for her tea to seep. A small dining room table with only one chair sits between the kitchen and the couch. Was that there when I walked in, she thought? She really can't remember.

She sits at the table and starts to drink her tea. She begins to relax as the cold leaves her body. Suddenly, bright flames begin to roar in the fireplace. Her mouth drops in awe. Unbelievable.

There are no logs, but the fire cracks and burns. She walks to the fireplace and kneels, reaching for the flames but immediately pulls her hand back. It’s hot. It's real. She takes off her coat, her nerves settling as she sits on the couch. She leans back and takes in the cabin. It could be worse, she thinks.

Disbelief washes over her face as she slowly sits up at attention. The mantle's empty frames are now filled with pictures. Unable to make them out from the couch, she inches toward them. A small gasp escaping her lips. They’re all of her. With her sister. With her father. With her mother. She picks one up. It's of her and her sister on one of their adventures. Her sister… what was her name again? Confused, she puts the photo back on the mantle. My sister’s name… she thinks. It's gone.

The candle catches her attention again. It’s much smaller now. She bends down to inspect it and catches her reflection in the window. Looking at herself in shock, she finds her mouth covered in dried blood along with her cheeks and forehead. The blood mixes with a bruise near her eye. She touches the blood and tries to wipe it all off, but her hands. They’re blue and bruised. Her fingers bent in unnatural ways. How did that happen?

CRACK.

She falls to the floor as her leg bends and twists. Broken. There is no pain as she runs her hand along the length of her leg coming to her foot. No shoe. Had she only been wearing one boot this entire time? She takes herself in completely, noticing her clothes are ripped and stained with blood and dirt.

She doesn't scream or shed a tear. In the midst of everything she was ever afraid of, there is only calm. She looks up at the candle, burning faster now. A flash of memory: she’s humming a song, that song, while walking across the Vale River on a fallen tree trunk. And then, she isn't.

She looks down at her hands, the bruises starting to fade. Her leg straightens and cracks back into place. She stands back up and looks at her reflection in the window again. No bruises or blood. Just a peaceful Iris with nothing more to fear.

She smiles and blows out the candle.