Bringing the Light

Advisory: swearing

The cabin in the woods had been abandoned for years, but one night, a candle burned in the window. It flickered with the movement of the presence inside, as it moved past it. The silence around the cabin was absolute. If you listened hard, you would be able to hear the wax spitting and crackling in the flame. The creatures of the forest had frozen, permitting no noise to break the calm. No calls, no crack of twigs, no squeal of prey consumed. Their instinct told them to draw no attention to themselves in that moment, to keep to the shadows where the flame did not reach.

Perhaps it was the candle itself that suggested malevolence. It guttered and spluttered through a myriad of glowing colours: purple; bright orange to black, then sulphurous yellow, shifting and shaping, mesmeric in its contortions. Something was influencing it but what? The creatures in the woods knew and anyone entering the thick trees that night and encountering that candle flame would find out.

*

"Whose idea was this?" Sarah moaned as she lugged her backpack up yet another incline. "And when are we going to stop?"

She was aching and miserable. Her feet were wet from the river crossing they had made earlier in the day and her woollen socks were proving to be wire woollen, scratching with every movement and ripping away the precious outer layer of her feet. She wished now that she had toughened them up like the aborigines did in Australia and then she could have abandoned her socks, her constricting boots and bounded through the undergrowth, like a white-tailed deer fleeing a hunter.

She wanted to stop but she daren't as the other members of the group, her colleagues, were moving confidently ahead of her, the bobbing of the lights on straps around their caps the only guide that she had to their presence as they talked amongst themselves but not so much to her. It was twilight but the night was darkening around her and the trees were becoming more dense with each tread. She hated this modern trend of having team building exercises, where physical exertions that tested and tormented were meant to transform previously strained relationships into powerhouses of productivity and respect. The only thing they strengthened and cemented was the need to get home and back to comfort again, in her opinion.

She hated it. Hated the whole thing. Hated the outdoors, hated the people, hated the experience, hated the woods. It was a fucking joke.

She glowered as she walked but what she wanted to do was scream at the top of her lungs for it to stop: to get angry at someone instead of having to dig deep, to find the energy to continue to trudge to who knows where to sit around a fucking fire and share stories and toast fucking marshmallows, no doubt.

The lamps continued to bob ahead of her, like jolly fireflies on a bouncy castle and the laughter and good-natured ribaldry of the others in the group only served to make her hot inside. The urge to angrily screech came again and Sarah pushed it back down. She couldn't show them that they bothered her with their positivity and their energetic exuberance for this...hell. No fucking chance.

She channelled her anger into moving her legs forward into the hill, determined that she would not be left behind and that she would not become lost to them in these woods, even if that was what they were attempting to do. She was a little scared that might happen and her fear always manifested itself furiously.

Sarah gritted her teeth, yanked her backpack firmly onto her shoulders and powered on with a resurgence of energy, which only her swollen and cut feet could temper.

Her fellow team members though were aware of where Sarah was all the time as contrary to Sarah's assumption, the last thing Michael, Cindy, Josh and Petra wanted on this team-building exercise was for Sarah to get lost. Because it was an exercise to build their team, consolidate their group and they took things like this very seriously and literally. No man or woman left behind and all that and Sarah was very important to the whole. Sarah may not have felt it but they were acutely aware.

"How about we set up here, gang?" Michael took his backpack from his shoulders and placed it onto the pine needle covered floor in the clearing. Logs and boulders emerged from the forest floor to create a sort of rustic circular seating area. Moss covered grey rock with white lichen contrasting in places, and the small heads of exotic fungus poked from cracks and splits in the felled trunks. Around the edge of the clearing, there was enough flattened ground for tents to be positioned. It looked like a place that had been used before as it naturally lent itself to shelter. If it hadn't been permeated by shadows, it could have been considered a forest idyll, like a gathering place for fairy folk or a place where pagans came to worship Mother Earth and dance in whimsical fashion and perform rites. It had a presence, if this was possible; an atmosphere.

Cindy gave Michael a thumbs up at the same time as lowering her right shoulder to ease off the pack to the floor. She reached up with both her hands outstretched and leant back, curving her stomach out to make a crescent. Her pack was the heaviest. "Looks good! I'll start a fire. I'm glad I carried that kindling now and by the looks of it, it's pretty dry here. I'll just have a scout about, see if I can find some sticks."

"I'll help," Josh said, placing his pack next to Cindy's, and rubbing his right shoulder with his left hand. "I swear that that pack has expanded during the day."

Petra was already picking up sticks on her way to the clearing, using her light to find them in the dark. "Hey, Cindy! These should be enough for you to start it and the guys can carry on and gather some more. Sarah is just a short way behind me and then, we should be able to have some dinner and get some sleep. Thank the heavens for pop-up tents!" Petra's smile to Cindy was warm and Cindy reciprocated before turning her attention to firelighters and the pyramidal structure of the wood before it was set alight.

Sarah had arrived, sweating and huffing and plonked herself on the floor.

"Hey, here she is!" Michael said, cheerily, taking his cap and light off and brushing back his dark hair before replacing them. "That climb sure got the blood pumping, didn't it?"

Sarah looked at him, a cursory glance and nodded briefly, still gathering her breath. Why did he always have to be so cheerful? It was exhausting just being around him.

"Perhaps you can help Cindy with the fire or Pet with the tents? Josh and I are just going to get some more wood so that we can have a roaring fire, keep away those mozzies and those critters, eh?" Michael raised his hands like he was some sort of scary horror figure or attacking bear and let out a snarl, which soon turned to laughter.

Sarah grimaced as the others all joined in with the growling and laughter and Josh patted Michael on the shoulder good-naturedly with a "Good one, mate!" before turning away from Sarah to pursue the task at hand. Off they headed, lamps moving with their heads, away from the clearing and into the woods. Sarah did not envy them nor volunteer to follow. Not a fucking chance. Let the cheery twins find their twigs and branches.

"Hurry up then, guys, so that we can have some food, toast some marshmallows and share some stories. I mean, it wouldn't be a camping trip without a few tales round the fire. Or not for me anyway." Petra was retrieving the tents from her backpack. She continued whilst unwrapping them from their outer bags. "When I was a kid, my dad used to love to tell me the scariest stories so that I'd go to bed with the terrors!" She laughed and with the first tent in her hand, she released the mechanism so that it expanded like an army umbrella, into the little polyester pods they'd sleep in that night. "All night long, I'd listen to the night noises and wonder if something was coming for me! So funny!" She chuckled, fondness in her voice.

Sarah sighed and rolled her eyes but Petra didn't see the contemptuous gesture.

"What about you, Sez? Did you ever go camping as a kid?"

Sarah had taken her boots off and was rubbing her feet. She really didn't want to do anything else tonight. Perhaps if she resisted for long enough, the happy crowd would just get on with it anyway. It wasn't like she was lazy or anything but her enthusiasm was at a minimum and she was struggling to gain anything more from this trip than a test of her endurance and her patience. And blisters. Certainly not pleasure. A camping trip was a heinous activity anyway, in her opinion but with this bunch of nerdy losers? Oh God! Give her strength!

She looked over to Petra who was smirking at her expectantly, like a happy puppy. Had she asked her something? Oh, yes, camping trips as a kid. Not fucking likely. Did she just call her "Sez"? For fuck's sake.

"Nope, never." Sarah shut it down and busied herself with looking for some dry socks in her backpack along with the pack of Band-Aids that she knew she'd thrown in at the last minute, just in case.

Petra pegged the tent, bending over and tapping each metal pin. "Well, I think you've really missed out. I love it and I was thrilled when this trip was put on the agenda! A chance to reminisce with great company." She stood up, mallet in hand, the last peg in and smiled at Sarah, hands on hips, legs apart. "I couldn't wait and now that we're here, I just know it's going to be something special!"

Petra turned away from Sarah, her long black hair in a ponytail, swishing as she moved to reach for the next tent and Sarah, who had been keeping her head down in her backpack, thought about how she could get out of the evening, maybe feigning illness and having an early night in the tent? That could work but then she'd still have to listen to their fatuous chatter all night regardless. This was a time when a girl needed headphones. She continued to rub her feet as Petra and Cindy waxed lyrical about the environment and the purity of the place, Petra all the while erecting tents and Cindy blowing on the fire's embers.

There was meant to be a harmonious feel to it all, even Sarah could see that. She wasn't sure why she was so sour but stuff like this, all this back-to-nature, living the simple life really irritated her. What was the matter with hot baths, restaurants and plush, soft mattresses? Nothing in her opinion. And socialising with people you worked with was just wrong. They weren't her friends, they were her colleagues. They might treat her like a friend but Sarah viewed these people as just people she had to encounter every day to make a living. She certainly hadn't been looking forward to coming here and so far, it was meeting all of her expectations, disappointingly so.

She was the new girl of the group, the others having worked together for years at Lightbringer, an online newshub which rose to semi-famous status with Trump's presidency, and ostensibly was created to dispel the fakery of the world and bring the truth to light, hence the name. Sarah wasn't particularly virtuous or keen to be at the forefront of the emerging news story but she liked to write and was, she thought, good at it. She was, she knew, a lone wolf but when the lucrative contract had been presented to her to embark on a new post with this well-established team, she couldn't turn it down. It was a great offer. Shame the people weren't better.

Michael and Josh chose to arrive back into the clearing at that moment with armfuls of wood, which Cindy was immensely pleased about. They mentioned seeing an old cabin not far away in a valley which seemed deserted, keen to add that there was not even a flicker of light.

"We did think about exploring it, didn't we, Josh?" Michael said, smiling. "But we didn't want to stray too far towards it in case we lost our footing or disappeared in the night. Can you imagine? Getting lost in these woods on a night like tonight?" There was much laughter about this too - so much fucking laughter, Sarah thought - and talk about visiting the cabin the following day, if they had time and could find it again! It could be an adventure they could share together! I can hardly wait, Sarah thought sarcastically.

Everyone set about helping to get the food sorted, except for Sarah. She had now put her boots on but only to hobble to the nearest log. There was no way she was going to volunteer to help out. She sat and tried to shut the others out and stared at the fire. It seemed to be working as no-one engaged with her. They left her to herself. Sarah found the colours in the flames mesmeric, dancing and sparking and with the wood spitting, giving off the essence of warmth and danger at the same time.

The fire was soon raging and with the tripod set up and two billy cans balanced over the top warming the food for them all, the small group all perched on the natural seats around the fire. There was a hum of conversation that Sarah joined in with monosyllabic answers when asked. She really wanted beer and lots of it, she thought. That would make the night go more quickly but it had been decided it would be too heavy to carry so it was an evening of ambience and smoke which brought with it boredom and stinging eyes.

"I can't wait to eat!" Petra said enthusiastically as she dished out the mushed up pork and potato dish onto the metal plate. "That smells so good, Cindy!"

"Thanks, Petra. I made it up before we came so that tonight would be easier. I guessed we would all be tired." Cindy dipped her spoon into her meal, blew on it and then took a tiny morsel. "A bit hot yet but it tastes alright."

Sarah thought it looked and tasted like shit but decided to keep her opinion to herself. At least she hadn't had to cook it, whatever it was. And she was hungry. So hungry. She took a bite. It wasn't bad, she supposed, for a meal that looked like it had been vomited up earlier that day.

They all continued to eat, everyone except Sarah complimenting Cindy on her dish, again no-one calling Sarah out on her silence and lack of gratitude. Despite it looking like a meal for a baby or an elderly person struggling to swallow, Sarah was surprised to find rounded remnants of bone in the congealed stew. She wasn't the only one to comment but Cindy breezily explained that the butcher had sold her "knuckled pork", the tastiest cut in his opinion and as she hadn't been sure what it was but trusted him completely, she'd gone with it.

"I think it has a more powerful flavour than normal pork, don't you?" Cindy said, taking another mouthful.

Everyone murmured that it did, appreciatively, continuing to eat it heartily. Michael rolled some of the bones around his mouth, "to get the full flavour" before spitting them out onto his plate. He picked one up and looked more closely at it, his cap light shining on its whiteness so that it reflected brightly in the contrasting dark and said:

"I had no idea that pigs had knuckles. Trotters, yes, but knuckles, no." He shrugged his shoulders and put his plate on the floor. His hands now free, he reached them towards the flame as if warming them, his face lit by the red of the flame. Sarah suddenly felt quite nauseated and also put her plate to the floor, leaving whatever was left at the bottom. She was still hungry but it didn't feel right to keep eating. No-one else felt the same though, she could see, Petra and Josh both using their spoon to capture every last morsel and Cindy using her finger to get into the crevices.

"I think we'll do the washing up in the morning or leave the wildlife to lick them out," Petra suggested, smiling at them all, Sarah the only one not to reciprocate the hearty laughter. "I know we joked about bears earlier but I don't think there are any here, are there?"

Josh, Cindy and Michael all concurred that it was unlikely; other animals, yes but bears, no. They would be safe leaving them.

"Which means then, if washing-up is not on the agenda, that it must be time for stories!" Petra rubbed her hands together with something akin to a childlike glee, her black eyes glinting in the firelight. "Unless anyone wants marshmallows? Or s'mores? I may have some chocolate and crackers, if I remembered to pack them?"

Everyone demurred, Sarah remaining silent as a consensus was reached on their full bellies and how they were tired but stories were a must. Sarah was still conscious of being hungry but the thought of eating anything at the moment made her feel ill.

"Okay! Who wants to start?" Petra said, rubbing her hands with glee at the prospect and having got her sleeping bag earlier from the tent, she sat on the nearest log and proceeded to unzip it to make a blanket to go over her legs.

Sarah again was quiet, wondering how many stories she would have to sit through, whether she would be able to stay awake and would it really seem so unlikely if a headache suddenly came on? She was hardly looking forward to heading to her self-inflating mattress - an over-exaggerated description for her sleeping mat if ever there was one - but tedious tales seemed potentially more painful.

"I will!" Josh said, and with much posturing and mimicry, growling and swiping, he told the story of Scarface the grizzly, a particularly aggressive bear, prone to fighting, hence the name. A bear of distinction, he was stalked by a photographer who followed Scarface diligently and with what he considered stealth, only to lose him over a ledge. Believing Scarface to be hiding out underneath the outcrop, the photographer leaned over, camera poised for the perfect photo, possibly of a somnolent bear, only to have his face raked off by Scarface's giant and heavily clawed paw.

"It would appear that Scarface was keen to keep his legacy going in human form, wouldn't it?" Michael said.

"Yeah!" Josh laughed. "You're right!"

Sarah found the discussion of a man's face being severed "flapping flesh, hanging off" - as Josh described it, eyes lit - a little macabre rather than mirthful. It was a story that delivered all that would be expected from a campfire retelling and she moved a little closer to the fire as a shiver threatened. She wasn't cold but there was something about the depth of darkness and the fire and the glittering eyes of her fellow campers that was starting to unnerve Sarah. They had always been a little over the top in their enthusiasm and verve but as the night was progressing, there was something verging on hysteria in their uncontrollable laughter. Petra and Cindy's stories both involved gruesome murders, urban legends that Sarah had heard before: unlikely and the stuff of B-movies but still enough to unsettle nonetheless. If they had all been drinking, she would have likened it to something Bacchanalian in the way that they threw their heads back, revelling in the goriness of the tales. It had to be the setting, she thought. She would've never have felt like this if she had been sat in a roof-top bar surrounded by buildings and streetlights.

And where were the animal noises? Where were the hoots and the scurries and the rustlings of the night? Only the crackling of the fire and the cackling of her colleagues were heard and the forest felt to her like it was watching, breath held. She didn't like it one bit but what could she do? Leave? She shifted her weight on the stone she had chosen for the cushion of moss, thinking it would be more comfortable, soft but it was merely cold and damp and she could feel it seeping and settling into her bones.

"Okay, Michael, it's your turn!" Cindy encouraged and Sarah was secretly glad and irritated that she was not asked: glad as she had no stories of merit and besides, she did not want to join in with this weird relating of strange tales; irritated because she had to endure another story and she feared, genuinely feared, that she would like this one the least. Michael was the best writer at Lightbringer so it stood to reason that his tale would be the best, or worst, depending on how you saw it.

Should she get up? An instinct in her was emerging, advising her in its release of chemicals that now might be a good time to try and interrupt the evening and to attempt to dispel the atmosphere, if that was possible. The rest of the group were eagerly bidding Michael to tell his tale and he was pretending to not have one when she decided to stand. Wincing and looking a little hunched - she wasn't very fit and the walk had been taxing - she got up and went to stretch a little before announcing her intention to go to bed, when Michael, Cindy, Josh and Petra ceased their banter and looked her way.

Was it her imagination or were they looking at her weirdly? The flames were casting shadows that distorted and shifted things and it was changing colour consistently: black, yellow, purple, orange, again. Darkness flared and receded so it was difficult to read their expressions clearly, but there was something about the way that they were looking at her now that made her skin crawl. She really wished at that moment that she had been friendlier to them earlier and that she had gone jogging a bit more. And brought her trainers on this trip. Her heart was beating very, very fast.

"Where are you going, Sarah?" Michael asked and there was no trace of humour in his voice as he said it, which raised the hairs on Sarah's arms. But this was Michael? Right? Answering him was reasonable. To not answer a direct question would seem irrational. Still, Sarah found that her voice was reluctant to come.

"I was going to bed. I'm tired and sore and could really do with some rest," she said with some hesitancy. She wanted to turn away to go to her tent, any tent but Michael and the others were looking at her so intently that she didn't feel like she could move. It was like his glare, in particular, was a tractor beam, holding her in place.

"I would prefer it if you stayed, Sarah," Michael said quietly but with a hint of a smirk as if he was trying to recoup his earlier cheeriness but it was proving tricky to conjure again, like something bigger was blocking its arrival. "Sit down."

Sarah's chest was in a state of palpitation, her heart bouncing and her blood thundering in her ears. What should she do? Usually, in less intimidating circumstances, like a bar or the office, she would have mouthed off at him, tore strips off him or flounced out, flicking him the finger but none of these seemed viable options right now. Quite the opposite. Something was advising her deep inside herself to cooperate.

"Please, Sarah. Sit. Now." There was a tone to the way that he said these words that reinforced for Sarah that it would be unwise to defy.

With everything in her exclaiming at her submission, Sarah sat, still looking at Michael until he could see that she was staying where he wanted her. He smiled, not at her, not warmly but with the satisfaction of being obeyed. It was a smile born of power, the power one individual can exert over another. It was not a pleasant thing. It was like a glimmer of someone else had manifested itself, a whole different personality that had previously not been tangible to Sarah, who had not been perceived at all but was now very much there. Sarah gulped and moved her eyes away from him to the flames. She tightened her coat around her, arms around herself in a gesture of protectiveness, and slouched. If she had had a shell, she would have been cowering in it with her eyes firmly shut.

"Right. Good. Thank you, Sarah. I don't feel that the night would have been complete without the chance to tell my story to everyone, would it, gang?"

While the altercation between Michael and Sarah had been taking place, the quiet from the others had been deafening in its completeness. Not a murmur had been emitted from Cindy, Josh or Petra. They had sat in dark-haired silence, eyes on Sarah, like a row of beady-eyed ravens. But now, the jocularity was back, the tense glares ended and the movement of poking the fire and rubbing hands resumed instantaneously, like it had been a still in a film, frozen by some other hand at the moment of maximum menace.

Only Sarah remained still, wanting to inch out of the camp by degrees, if only it were possible not to draw attention to herself. Because, like a mouse in the undergrowth at night, she had a feeling that if she so much as twitched, she would be ensnared, or worse, torn.

"And so, to my tale." Michael shifted his buttocks on his boulder and looked around at all his friends as they got themselves comfortable, their anticipation and enthusiasm palpable. "Ready?"

There were appreciative murmurs and a "Hell, yes!" from Josh, which made them all laugh and Michael began. Sarah continued to shrink, wary now of her situation like she had never been before.

Once again, a stillness descended and only the noises of the fire were audible, and for Sarah, the rapid beating of her heart.

"Well, let's see. How to start? Here goes." He took a deep breath and grinned. "There was once a group of friends, four of them and they were a very special group. They did everything together and it wasn't long before they decided that they should try camping."

Michael looked around the group except Sarah, who was still hunched, and was received with smiles and nods of appreciation. He continued.

"For a group who had known each other for centuries, this was a first but they were always open to new experiences and so, they decided to hike into the hills. It was a tough climb but they were up to it and there was nothing in those woods that would scare them. Quite the contrary."

Michael poked the fire, which flared and spat. Sarah, still hunched, listened intently despite herself.

"There was a reason that they had chosen to camp in those hills. It wasn't to hunt although they liked to do that, especially together. And eat what they caught." Michael was staring into the flames, his eyes following the flickers and his tone becoming almost trancelike. "No, this time it was for a very special purpose. You see, beyond the hills in a valley, there was a deserted cabin. Now, that itself does not sound overly interesting until the friends discovered that it was a place of great power."

He paused. "Not the cabin but where it was situated. It had been built a long, long time ago, before the friends knew each other. In fact, it had evolved over time from a shrine, to a pile of stones, to an altar, and so on until it became more." A frisson of excitement sounded in his voice. "It is a cabin now but it had been more. A place of worship." Michael's voice returned to barely a whisper as he said this, a sense of reverence in his tone.

He looked up suddenly at his friends. Quietly, he uttered:

"A place of sacrifice."

A heaviness settled in the air.

"On one special night, it was rumoured that the site would become more. "

Pause. More silence.

"That it would allow the Bringer of Light to enter the world. But he would not be able to stay. He could arrive but only a blood bond could allow him to stay." He stopped again. "Human blood." Pause.

"He is waiting."

The night thickened around the group and Sarah's heart was pounding so hard, as realisation slowly started to dawn, despite her mind's resistance to it.

Michael was still talking, with nonchalance. "It's better if they're willing but we're up for the chase. So. Here we are. What do you say, Sarah? You fancy it?" Michael's tone had become cajoling and light, like he was trying to persuade her to go on a rollercoaster.

*

Suddenly, the eerily still night exploded as the woods came alive, chaotic, frenzied with the shrieks of dark creatures in pursuit. No more silence.

And in the cabin, the candle began to glow more brightly.