Cabin by the Lake - A Siren's Song

"The cabin in the woods had been abandoned for years, but one night, a candle burned in the window," said Donovan. Scanning the faces of his long-time friends, he contemplated if he should relay the events that happened at the very same campsite they currently occupied. Donovan hesitated only a moment before eventually taking up the story again. After all, he had made a promise. To do otherwise would be a mistake he was not prepared to make.

Donovan glanced at the cabin partially hidden among the pine trees on the small island in the middle of the lake; he could just discern the small window that not yet housed the telltale sign of a flame. He stared into the campfire, allowing it to trance him as the story unfurled behind his eyes before it poured from chapped lips.

“During the times when mining was abundant, riches were to be gained by pickaxe, explosions, and cart rails. A group of miners sort relief from the dust that dotted the air like the stars clustered in the sky and the sweltering heat creating rivulets of sweat to saturate their bodies. They traveled a mile or so from the site…”

—-

“Oi, it’s this way. Don’ fall behind, I won’ be looking for ya’ll coz of ya lollygagging,” said Tom. At the end of their shift, when the sun greeted the earth in russet oranges and reds, he guided them to a lake. The placid water was crystal clear and serene, a perfect spot for a swim before heading home.

“Tom, how’d you find this place anyway? One of these days your adventures are goin to get you in trouble,” remarked Bill.

“Does it matter how I found it? Just shut ya trap and stop givin me grief. You’re here ain’t ya, get a dip, wet ya willy, and leave.” Irritated, Tom quickly shed his overalls and dived, producing small bubbling ripples to manifest as he disappeared underneath. The others soon followed, with grins plastered on their faces anticipating the coming respite from the heat-sodden air.

As the sun slowly sank on the horizon, Jerry was the first to notice the log cabin huddled in the grove of trees; a tiny flame in the window cast light upon its immediate surroundings. It lent a gloomy quality to the area, unable to penetrate the encroaching darkness.

“That cabin was...that there all along?” He turned to Tom, one eyebrow raised. Deceptively calm, Jerry continued. “Coz, you wouldn’ be stupid enough to have us out in the open in plain view of anyone wantin a look-see, would ya?” Waist deep, Tom was able to see Jerry ball his fist. He surreptitiously glanced around and realized the others exhibited the same stance. Tom, wiry in frame, rushed to reassure them in a bid to stave off a fight he had no hope of winning.

“Naw, I wouldn’. I swear. When I was here last, it was empty. Not a soul around.” Flustered, he was far from convincing. He said, “Alright, to prove it. We can all go and investigate. I swear, no one’s there!” The sweat he had just washed off came back with a vengeance.

Evan, the more muscular of the bunch, cracked his knuckles and said, “Ok, Tom, lead the way.”

Nudity forgotten Bill was the first to step foot on the isolated island. Cautiously he approached the single window sneaking a peek as best he could through the layer of grim. Silently, he motioned to Jerry to check the door. Just before grasping the knob, a gentle wind wove through the trees, intertwined with a haunting melody that caressed their ears. Tom turned to look back the way they came and noticed the imposing trees on the opposite shore stood motionless. Everyone froze while their heads swiveled back and forth to pinpoint its source. Evan, from his position, noticed in his peripheral the ethereal figure of a woman stepping around the corner. From her lips, the melody flowed.

Clad in a sheer ruffled sleeved nightgown that did nothing to hide her figure, it wavered as if underwater. Her hair cascaded about her shoulders and moved along to the same rhythm as her dress. Tom didn’t yet understand what sort of creature stood in their presence, closed his eyes to preserve her dignity. But it was already too late for the others. He was unaware that the others stood mesmerized by her beauty, her voice, and comely shape. Although not able to see, he could certainly hear. Tom rooted to his spot near the water, heard one by one in a change shuffle as the others moved further away.

“Oi!” he hissed to the others. When no response came, he attempted to formulate an apology. “Hello? Ma’am? We’re terribly sorry for intruding we'll be leaving imme…”

SNAP CRUNCH SLURP

Butterflies took flight deep in his gut, bile surged up his throat to pool in his mouth, and a cold sweat formed along his brow. The sounds infiltrated his bones to rattle along his spine. Unable to bear the horrific sounds, he covered his ears. Whimpering, he collapsed and curled forward over his knees, waiting for it to be over. With a sound like thick leather slapping the ground, all noise ceased.

What seemed like an eternity but was probably only a few moments; Tom felt a small cool hand card through his sweaty hair. It was almost comforting. However, it soon became a savage grip. Hoisted up by the roots of his hair, Tom came face to face with the apparition.

“What do we have here?” She looked at him like a predator salivating after their prey. “It seems my song did not affect you. How peculiar. No matter, I can’t say the same for your…friends,” she said as a smile stretched far too large and long for her face as she looked to the side.

Following her gaze, Tom saw three bloody grotesque mounds of flesh. All the bones, he didn’t know how it was possible, were missing. Trembling wildly, he turned back to the woman and found her eyes already on his face.

Desperation oozed out of his pores, “P-p-p-please, I’d do anything!”

“Come now. You’ll not feel a thing.” With horror, he watched as her mouth spread as wide as a Cheshire cat and opened as large and deep as a chasm.

He began to feel steady increasing pressure over the entirety of his body, like a compactor crushing metal. Lungs ripped raw, with a blood-splattered chin, he clawed frantically at her arms. Through gritted teeth, he said, “I…can…help…more…people…to…you.”

Gradually the crushing weight lessened in increments. Intrigued, she contemplated the offer and found it beneficial in expediating her goal. A steady supply would suit her nicely. Smiling horrendously, quick as a snake strike, she sliced Tom’s naked shoulder as easy as a hot knife through butter, then dribbled what felt like hot wax to infect the wound. Before releasing him, she bade him return once a year and in exchange, she would spare his life. Like a fish out of water, Tom scrambled off his knees, floundering, and swam for safety. Not once did he look back.

—-

“The story goes he returned year after year, delivering fresh crops of humans like pigs to slaughter. Some say, on occasion, you can hear the death symphony riding the wind." Night had finally fallen, the moon bloated in the sky, and the candle burned brightly against the window pane. He admonished them, "Shh. Listen.” Donovan cupped one hand to his ear, waiting to catch her song. At first, his companions scoffed and chuckled at his ridiculousness. But he silently watched as become his custom, as she wove her tendrils, arresting them of their will. With every fresh batch, the range of her power had grown. Just as the landscape had transformed, now housing the many cabins doting the area, she too underwent a metamorphosis. She now stood more corporal and no longer needed her victims to set foot on the island.

Unaffected by the demise of his most recent group Donovan rubbed his shoulder to alleviate the persistent soreness as he strolled toward the waiting Jeep Wrangler. Already he was formulating a new plan, unconcerned over what he would help unleash when it was over. The cabin in the woods had been abandoned for years; however; once a year a candle burn in the window.