Gone!

The cabin in the woods had been abandoned for years, but one night, a candle burned in the window.

It was lit by me... Emmet… I overheard about this dilapidated abandoned place years ago as a kid. Something had happened here in the early 40’s. All our parents warned us never to go there. We begged and whined for answers, but they never did elaborate. It haunted me for years. I spent random days pouring over newspaper archives at the library and begged Mrs. Lafel, the librarian, to tell me what she knew about it. I got the feeling she really was clueless about the whole thing as she stood there staring at me with sincere ignorance, above her thin framed spectacles... bored almost... by my childlike excitement and wonder. And without even a glimmer of interest, she pursed her lips and ignored me as though I wasn't there. It was 1952 mind you, adults rarely paid us any attention. While they maneuvered through their day like clockwork, we were left to our own devices, so long as we were home in time for dinner and helped out with the chores.

I tried my luck with my math teacher too one day, but regretted asking almost as soon as I opened my mouth. Mrs. Peterson began making her way down the little aisle towards me with such clamorous indignation, knocking the neat row of students out of her way with her heavy set legs and stern disdain. My mouth dried up. I swallowed hard as Mrs. Peterson smacked her wooden ruler down on my desk and reminded me that this was math class and I was NEVER to disrupt it again! I felt so ashamed! I saw all the other kids staring at me and some were giggling under their breath. I felt sticky under my arms with sweat and hot in the face. Why was I was the only one interested in that darn cabin!?

Well… that was that! Mrs. Peterson scared the bejesus out of me and I went quiet on the whole thing for a while. Life went on. I grew up, got a weekend job mowing lawns and doing paper rounds a few days a week and saved most of my earnings for when I was done with school. My family didn't have much money, and it would be my responsibility to pay my own way when I finished. I was thinking that I'd eventually go East... Somewhere warm!

I left school early in 1962 and had saved enough for my journey. Dad had given me his old jalopy, but it needed some work, so I spent all July fixing it up. It ran pretty good and had a solid engine. I was proud of my old 1948 Plymouth Coupe. It was the first thing I actually owned and it was my ticket out of here. Sure, it wasn't the sleek Dodge all the rich hipsters had, but it was mine and I loved it.

With school behind me, I could sense the open roads lure to freedom. I was to leave in August before the end of summer and travel slowly across the land with the warmth of the season. Hopefully I’d be settled somewhere by mid Autumn and able to find work. I was willing to do anything at first to pay my way, but I had plans to try to land something as a reporter eventually. If that didn't work out, I’d try my hand as a mechanic. All these thoughts excited me, but I’d be a liar if I didn't admit I was also terrified. I had never left my little country village and to be honest, we never could afford to even go away on holiday, so this really was completely out of my head.

well... July passed and August came. The sense of urgency to leave was exaggerated by the nudging of my parents. They were looking forward to one less mouth to feed even though they would miss me. But I had to go! I needed to leave my childhood behind and grow up... become a man! This is how it is! But as the inevitable chapter of my life was coming to an end, this pending doom began to twist my stomach into knots. Mostly, I thought it was normal. Probably everyone embarking on something so epic would feel the same, except... sometimes it felt more like a warning... like a knowing that something wasn't quite right. Such a slight sense of dread it was, that it was easy enough to bury with reason and logic. Besides, dad had already paid for a full tank of gas and ma packed enough food for me for a week, so I couldn’t back down now. So Friday it would be... I’ll pack my things today; go into town tomorrow to get any last minute essentials and then head off Friday after lunch. Ma slipped me some money to get something to protect myself with, like a knife or something. She was happy for me, but I could tell by her slightly burrowed forehead and constant lip biting, that she was terribly worried and pretty broken up to see me go. I wondered if she was just sad, or if she also had this strange feeling in the pit of her stomach like me. I didn't dare ask ,since it would seem childish and also, I certainly didn't want any confirmation that something bad was going to happen.

And so Friday came. Emmet said his goodbyes after lunch out on the lawn. His ma would constantly hug him, she didn't hide her tears today since she didn't know when she would see him again. In fact, none of them knew that this would be the very last time anyone ever saw of Emmet again.. He gave them all one last hug and squeezed dad's hand tightly as they made eye contact one last time. Dad was acting tough, but he was filled with heavy turmoil and swallowed hard to keep it in. Emmet ruffled Jack and Suzie's hair and kneeled down and hugged them both tightly. He gave ma one last kiss on her cheek and looked into her worried eyes before jumping into the Plymouth. He started her up with a rumble and splutter of smoke, as the family stood on the grass waving him off. Ma was wiping her eyes profusely and dad put his arm around her. Jack and Suzie stood there watching, not quite certain what to make of it all. Emmet had an empty feeling inside, but he put his foot down slowly and started on his way. His brother and sister ran after the car to wave him off and were giggling and shouting goodbyes after him. Emmet had a quick glimpse in his mirror and saw dad leave ma standing alone as he walked back into the house. He saw him wipe his eyes with his sleeve as he walked into the house, shoulders drooped and legs weak. He blew the horn repetitively as Jack and Suzie slowed down to a standstill, panting and waving as Emmet drove away and out of sight.

Emmet had barely left the outskirts of town and only just joined the freeway when his eye caught the sight of the sign to Pine Woods on the other side of the road. A flash of dad yelling at him when he was barely five to NEVER go in there scalded in his head, causing him to jerk and swerve across the road. He had to pull over and could hear the tires crackle over gravel as he came to a stop on the shoulder. He leaned back in his chair and sat there in shock. All the memories of him wondering what happened in those woods came back to him. It never seemed to have bothered anyone else as much as him. He did eventually bury it deep inside and forget about it... up until now... NOW it all came flooding back. His mouth was wet with spit and he felt sick in his stomach. Emmet looked at the sign in his side mirror and read it “SDOOW ENIP”. He twisted his neck and looked at the dense span of trees. The outer layers of leaves umbrellaed the monstrosity and glistened in the morning sunlight, deceptively concealing what lurked beneath. Under that shimmering façade was a dark and shadowy force... Beasts that didn't care a damn for your life and relentless power that man was weak against. And then there was that cabin… That cabin that held a secret that no one dare speak of. Why? Why were we NEVER even allowed to say the word CABIN without adults glancing suspiciously at each other.

And now here I was… Only minutes away from my childhood mystery. All I had to do was spin round and head back on route 24 to the entrance into Pine Woods. Compulsively, my immature curiosity got the better of me and I turned my chunky piece of metal around and headed back the way I came, veering off at route 24. I took another right onto the dirt road and bumped and wobbled over the rocks and giant tree trunks and into the shadows of the mighty Pine trees embrace. I saw the summer sun disappear in my rearview mirror. It sneered at me with smug mockery and I felt a lump in my throat. Part of me wanted to turn back, but the road was too narrow to turn around. I might've been able to reverse back onto the road if I was careful, but against all my better judgement, I continued to seal my way deeper into this foreboding territory. Before long, I had to put my headlights on to see better and grim flashes of gnarly faces growing on tree trunks with watchful eyes came at me and sent shivers down my spine. I knew it was just my eyes playing tricks on me, but I was certain they were watching me. I think it's quite instinctive to feel threatened in this dark green entangle. I must've been at least 50miles deep when I decided to slow down to protect my wheels and my butt, which was beginning to feel the pain of the knotted road. And that's when I caught a glimpse of it... The cabin! I carefully left the bumpy road onto what one might call a driveway, except it was more like a clearing and parked the car. I shuddered at my stupidity. No-one knew where I was. What the hell was I doing? I look around to make sure I'm alone and grab the torch from the glove compartment. Thank goodness ma made me take it.

The weathered cabin perches on a slightly lofty mound and looks down at me with scornful contempt. It's boarded up windows gaze at me from under the overgrowth, drawing me in with a strange longing. I carry on up the little crooked stairs to the front door. Grabbing the handle thinking I’ll have to force it, I’m surprised to find it unlocked and it swings open. I am greeted by a plume of antique dust, which gets in my throat as I inhale a mouthful. I cough it up and spit out what I can, eyeballing the place out. There’s not much natural light inside, just enough to cause a dull hazy glow. A few of beams of sunlight made their way through the thicket of trees and found the gaps in the walls which expose specks of dust twirling blissfully in the air. Luckily I have the torch, it helps a bit. I scan the room, it's musty and old, but there's something oddly comforting about it.

There’s a simple wooden desk on my right with a little stool neatly pushed under. Next to it is an old spring bed with faded bedding neatly tucked in. Opposite, is a long wooden bench with a basin, some pots on it and an array of cooking utensils. On the other side of the cabin are two old rocking chairs facing a fireplace in the wall, which is eagerly awaiting its hot embrace. Standing in the corner is a big pile of chopped wood with an axe leaning against the wall and an old straw broom. Whoever once lived here took great care of the place. It was very homely.

Emmet picked up the tin box that sat neatly on the desk. He blew as much dust off as he could and wiped some more off with his sleeve. The box was old. It was an old biscuit tin that someone decided to use as a stationary box. Just as Emmet was about to pry it open, he he heard something rustle outside and froze. He looked out the door and waited... nothing! He wedged the lid off and rummaged in the tin, flicking through the old yellow stained papers. He saw something that jolted him to the core and jumped back in shock. He dropped the box and it landed with a loud, tinny thud. It reverbed and rung and echoed out into the woods. Emmet fell backwards and was met by the bed. It jolted him from behind, forcing him down and knocked the breath out of him. He looked down at the pile of papers on the floor. They were swirling around in a blur. He felt dizzy, like he was about to pass out. But then it caught his attention again and it drew him in. He could see it laying there staring up at him... as clear as day… a photo of him… of Emmet… as a toddler!

He scrambled onto the floor to pick it up. He held it right up to his face, to make sure. He hadn’t realized that he had begun sweating nervously until a bead of sweat fell onto the photo. He wiped it off with his sleeve and it smeared across the picture. Taken in March of 1950, as it clearly stated on the back. Emmet was 5... None of this made sense! He began swishing through the scattered mess frantically and kept picking up pieces of paper and skimming through them to hopefully make sense of this ridiculous fluke. So far, other than that photo of himself, nothing else in that tin made any sense. There were letters to people Emmet knew nothing about, that mentioned the weather and other useless chatter. There were some old Christmas cards and an ancient photo from the 1800’s of a very prudent family, which was all faded as they were peered at Emmet with their beady black eyes, haunting him from another century...

A thud from outside! Emmet froze. A movement outside… definitely… Emmet looked at the door, which he left open. He couldn't see anything, but got a bad feeling all of a sudden and felt like a fool for being there. He looked at the photo of himself again, his hand was trembling. He dropped it and darted out the place. The woods looked very hostile as he stood on that porch. It looked cold and dark and the trees seemed to be angry at him. He saw his faithful car parked outside without any further hesitation, he ran down the steps and jumped in his car. With an urgency to get out of there, he fumbled with the keys and got his good old girl started. The sound of her engine made him feel good and he put her in reverse to leg it out of there.

Except, he stalled for a second, to give the cabin one last look.

But it glared at me antagonistically with a smirk of defeat as it stood there proudly on that hill holding secrets untold. And she dared me to come back in! With her seductive stare and hypnotic powers, that little bastard of a cabin enticed me back...

Well I regret to say, Emmet pulled his car back in and shut the engine. He breathed deeply as he grabbed some things from the Plymouth and traipsed up those stairs once more. He put his things inside and looked out the door to make sure he was alone before closing it and bolting it shut.

He had no intention of staying too long, he just wanted a few hours to make sense of things. So he started making the place a little more comfortable, to steer away that awkwardness between him and her. He shook out the bedspread and hit the chairs. He did a quick sweep of the place and threw some wood in the fireplace and got a little fire going to warm things up. The wood smelled good… Natural… Comforting… Emmet found some candles and he set them up and lit a few. There was a whole box of old beautiful candles, he wondered who had lit the last one in this place!?

He went back to the papers scattered on the floor and sat down with them all around him and began looking through them with a bit more attention, trying to find some coherence, as nothing added up. He leaned back on the bed behind him, staring at the pages on the ground. The obsession had got hold of him again. What had happened here? What did it have to do with him? Why did his parents never say anything? Is that why no one would tell him what the big secret about the cabin was... because they all knew it had something to do with HIM!?

What…? Why…? Who…?

He needed to know!

So he sat there! Day after day and night after night! Time passed by and Emmet remained. Hysterically reading between the lines and making things have more than one meaning. Strange noises outside would come and go. He often felt like he was being watched. He barely ate anything and sometimes he would even forget to make a fire and would lay in the stale bed shivering, all skin and bones… thinking… ruminating… deliberating… deducing… but never knowing why!

It drove him mad. He flitted between insanity and reason and in those brief moments of sound mind, he would toy with the idea of leaving, but the madness would consume him again and again and he would sit staring at the photo catatonic… waiting for a revelation… a memory… something... anything to make sense!

But it never did!

And no-one ever saw Emmet again!

He was lost in his mind, in the woods, forever!

Searching for the part of himself, that had driven him mad!