Do Not Put It Out

The cabin in the woods had been abandoned for years, but one night, a candle burned bright in the window. I noticed it as I trudged through the swamp and began running through all the possible explanations behind the presence of this amber glow. Any that I could theorize were dispelled by my confidence that no one had been down here since Katrina. It’s a treacherous landscape that only a seasoned veteran like myself should attempt to survey. Only a few referential landmarks remained in this labyrinth of driftwood and Spanish moss, and while this old cabin was my North Star, it never burned like one before tonight.

To get to the front door I had to traverse deeper waters. The progress of the shrinking cabin tested the limits of my fishing waders. As I crossed the threshold, I was welcomed by the moldy stench of rot. Inside, the darkness of the dripping shadows drew its heavy curtains around the room, so I turned on my headlamp. What I am sure was once a beautiful, isolated home was now host to hundreds of large slugs, each dragging their own slimy histories behind them. The trails wove about and intersected like glistening silver fractals all over the walls and ceiling. As I drew nearer to the staircase before me, the great slugs began to inch away from the center of the treads, as if to let me pass. I threw one leg onto the stairs and ascended from the murky green water and listened for a sign of another presence beyond the torrential drippings of the waterfall I left to the stairs behind me.

I stepped heavily onto the second floor. The limitations of my lamp focused my gaze on three closed doors. Two were as they should be: lifeless and innocent in their resignation to the weathering of time. The middle door was framed by a flickering orange radiance. I found solid footing on a floor joist that guided me like a tightrope to the room that my curiosity desired. I twisted the handle of the door and unintentionally pushed it away from its rusted hinges. A flood of light broke from the room and engulfed me. In the window sat the candle, but the source of this blinding light was the lightning bugs that fluttered about the room. They illuminated the water damaged patterned wallpaper in what must have been a nursery. A hooded cradle sat in the corner to the left of the window.

I had never seen fireflies congregate in such a way. In this confined space I noticed them making an indescribable sound, like that of whispering souls gossiping under their breath, coupled with the gentle fluttering of small wings. I stepped inside the room, careful not to step off my solid ground as I marveled at them. After a moment I knew my work was done, and while I did not know where the candle came from or by whom it had been lit, I was appreciative of its invitation to experience such a miraculous phenomenon. I stepped towards the candle with the intention of relieving it of its duty.

“Do not put it out,” whispered the cradle. Before the wind could leave my lips, I froze. I turned my head as quickly as the tense muscles in my neck would allow. I thought I had heard something hiss to me from that cradle, but against the peculiar sound of the fireflies, how could I know for sure?

“Do not put it out,” it came again. Certainly, I had heard it this time. Something had called to me from the cradle. I backed away from the candle slowly.

“Why shouldn’t I put it out?” I asked, as the obvious questions in the front of my mind felt neglected.

“I’m afraid of the dark,” it hissed. “Are they coming yet?”

“Who?” I asked, morbidly perplexed. A bony human hand no bigger than a raccoon’s emerged from the stained veil of the crib. The knuckles cracked as it delicately pointed to the window. As little as I wanted to remove my eyes from that hand, my curiosity compelled me to find the answer to my question. I turned my gaze to the window to look beyond the warmth of the glowing candle out into the bayou.

“You won’t see them until you turn off the lamp,” the voice wheezed in reference to my headlamp. An involuntary gulp triggered my shaking hand to steady itself enough to switch it off. My eyes slowly adjusted to the shapes and shimmers in the black distance. The more they developed, the more I blinked, hoping to rid myself of the horrid hallucination of large reflective eyes that had materialized in the distance. I looked back to the cradle in time to see the hand retract.

“Yes, they’re coming,” I answered it. “What are they?”

No response came. I looked back to the window. The expressionless silver dollar eyes had grown larger. I could hear the waters of the bayou rippling from their steady approach. This was no place for me anymore. I backtracked out of the room. Although I was not walking in water, my legs felt that I might be. I used every muscle in them to push against the current pulling me back to that room. I turned on my headlamp once more to descend the stairs only to find the slugs gathered on the treads, an unmoving barrier to my escape. The first few steps squished sickeningly beneath my boots before I saw the bubbles in the water below. Fuzzy antennae connected to a mass of matted hair arose from the water at the bottom of the staircase. Tattered wings of indescribable size spilled buckets of droplets to dry themselves. The eyelids of the beast opened to reveal two full moons. My boot slipped on the slime as my backside hit the stairs. The nail that caught the loop of my backpack was the only reason I did not slide all the way down. Back up the stairs I scrambled as the beast took its time ascending from the water. It knew one thing more than I did at that moment.

I was careless in my stumbling back to the room as the rotted floor fell away. As I crawled on my hands and knees along the joist tightrope, I could see more eyes emerging from the deep black abyss below me. Back into the red candlelight I clumsily fell and picked up the door to place it back in its frame. The fireflies fluttered around me, their whispers louder now.

“Put it out! Put it out!” they told me. It took a second for my shaken mind to collect itself enough to understand. The door crashed to the ground as I grabbed the candle. As I pressed my lips together to extinguish it, I saw in full view the looming stature of the winged monster, the candle reflected in its gaze. One step into the room and out the light went.

Darkness. A calm darkness. Here I simply exist.

“Is it safe to come out?” I whisper to the others. They confirm with a soft but fleeting glow of their light. I respond with my own. Through the air I drift about.

“Yes, yes, come on out, my pretties,” a small voice hisses to us. Two small bony hands emerge from the veil to grasp the edge of the cradle. One emaciated leg steps over the edge, followed by the other as all the shaky strength in its tiny arms lowers its plump body to the ground. Its wet feet clap the floorboards as we light the way across the room to the window. We flutter about as it strikes another match.

“This candle will not keep me from the darkness,” it wheezes as the flame ignites the wick, “but you, my pretties… You will keep the darkness from me…”