Flicker

The cabin in the woods had been abandoned for years, but one night, a candle burned in the window. Lane hadn't lived in the town for very long, but she had often driven past the area on nights when she needed an escape. She had never so much witnessed any signs of life within those woods, but she also had never seen the cabin. Tonight, instead of passing by, she brought her old Volvo to a halt. It rattled in complaint before abiding and coming to a full stop in a turn off near what used to be a driveway, now overgrown with weeds. The radio crackled out of reception and she shut it off, appreciative of the silence. Fog danced off her headlights. She got out of the car, lighting a cigarette and leaned against the door, closing her eyes and taking a drag. Her head fell back against the hood and she let her body relax. Was this the only place she could find privacy? A semblence of sanity?

A cool breeze picked up, invigorating her and she brought herself upright stumbling into a delicate gossamer. She swiped frantically at her face and spat instinctively on the ground, dropping her cigarette in the process. Gross. If there was anything she hated most, it was critters: unseen, unpredictable.

A flicker caught her eye. She thought she imagined it. Her eyes came into focus. There was definitely a faint light emanating from a small window in the cabin. She was sure of it. It waved to her, summoning. She took a few steps closer, unwilling to go too deep into the woods, yet wanting a clearer view. The earth sunk slightly below her, saturated from recent heavy rains and juxtaposed with autumn leaves that had browned and dried in their retirement.

"Fuck it," she thought. It was probably some gypsy who needed a place to sleep, a temporary shelter. The weather had been awful. She turned back towards her car, snapping a twig in the process, betraying her presence. She turned the key in the ignition, bringing her car to life and tapped the dash with a "that's my girl," as though that would be enough to keep it running, and headed back to town.

****

"Hey would you look at this?" Jake mumbled to no-one as he shook a newspaper to straighten it. He took a sip of his coffee, still too hot to drink. A waitress leaned on the end of the diner counter, carefully inspecting her freshly painted nails.

"You say something hun?" She asked, not looking up.

"Yeah..." he trailed off. "Did you see this?" he looked over at his unexpected audience. She snapped her gum, bored, and sauntered over, stuffing her hands in her apron.

"What you got?" He slid the newspaper to the edge of the table, stabbing the article with his finger.

"Three girlscouts. Missing." He peeled off his glasses, chewing on the ends, waiting for a response.

"Oh honey, that's in Samera. Nothing good happens there." She was unphased. "Besides, you've gotta let this armchair detective business go. ENJOY your retirement." She pivoted back towards the counter grabbing the coffee pot and refilled his mug.

"OK fair enough," he waved her off, briefly accepting her criticism. "But... nothing like this ever happens. I mean, THREE girl scouts? Missing?" He knew the camp cited in the article.

"Sweetheart, this is what happens when parents don't want to parent." She didn't know. She had no children. Jake knew this. He took in her perfectly coiffed hair, manicured fingers, and slender body. But good parents DID send their children to camp, he rationalized. He gulped down the rest of his coffee, feeling it settle into his stomach.

"Thanks Brenda, I gotta bolt." He looked unconvincingly at his watch, and left.

****

Months had gone by since news of the girls had surfaced. The whir of attention had started to subside, though "missing" posters still cluttered telephone poles throughout the area. It was a cold and dreary Friday evening in late autumn. Lane again found herself absentmindedly driving down an untraveled road through the countryside. It had become a ritual. Her separation from her husband was impacting her more than she thought, and she craved solace in the silence of rarely traversed areas.

Nostalgic songs blurred through the radio speaker. But she wasn't really listening. Incoherent words stung her head, turning slowly into a menacing shriek until she realized it was no longer the radio. She turned it off. The sounds continued - unbearable, tormenting. A light flashed before her eyes, causing her to swerve. Her car lurched upward and came down with a hard thump, her head barely missing contact with the steering wheel. She opened her eyes, gasping for breath. Smoke rose from the engine as the volvo came to an abrupt halt, and she knew old faithful was hurt.

"Son of a bitch," she mumbled, exiting the vehicle. She waved her hand in front of her face, attempting to clear the fumes. Her eyes slowly came to focus as she looked up and away, coughing. There was the faint glow of a candle in a window. She peered and stumbled forward. The cabin. Maybe whomever was there could help... she thought, desperately.

She walked down the path towards the house, pulling her sweater tightly over her body, suddenly chilled. Glancing at the ground she carefully placed her footsteps. The last thing she needed was a twisted ankle. A sound startled her and she looked up, pausing every motion. There was a silhouette behind the candle, unmoving. She continued closer, moving cautiously, still peering. Eyes became visible.... bright and visible, despite the darkness, the face unmoving.

She stumbled, breaking eye contact with the cabin, and realized she hadn't been watching her footing. A muddy shoe rolled over the side of the pathway, a vague imprint of a faded pink butterfly apparent on the side. She startled, and peered more closely. Looking up she saw a young girl, hair toussled, a nightgown soiled with dirt. Her eyes were vacant. Lane rubbed her own eyes and when her vision righted, the specter was gone. A small campfire burned in front of her. She didn't remember it being there. She felt frozen in place. She wanted to move but her feet were cemented firmly to the ground. She spun her head to collect her surroundings, and felt the breath being sucked out of her lungs. She gasped. Lane wanted desperately to run, but her legs wouldn't move. Looking back at the cabin she saw the profile dissipate as the candlelight in the window vanished. Everything went black.