The cabin in the woods had been abandoned for years, but one night, a candle burned in the window. A flickering orange glow, inviting in contrast to the steely cold light from the hazy moon. I blinked my tired eyes hard, a frown gathering on my forehead. Strange. I didn’t remember seeing the cabin there before. I’d heard of it, of course. Everyone in the town had. As children, we’d all heard the stories of the creepy cabin on the edge of Lumley’s Woods. Just on the outskirts of town. I looked both ways as I crossed the road, more out of habit than anything else. It wasn’t like there would be any cars out here. Especially not at this time of night. A humid breeze carried the scent of damp, dewy grass and the first sighs of summer. Soon this little town would be full of tourists, enjoying time away from their busy city lives. For now though, it was dead out here.
This old road was lined with dry stone walls, like most of the roads around here. No one could remember how long they’d stood, with occasional repairs by local farmers. A weathered old wooden gate nearby was the only way off the road, a tall stalk of hogweed growing next to it. Beyond, the field, and the woods on the other side. Leaning on the gate, I squinted at the candlelit window. As I tried to make out details in the grimy moonlight, I wondered how I’d missed seeing it before now. I only walked this way when I was going to work. Either in a hurry or tired, I figured. Working behind the bar at a local pub was tiring, but the pay wasn’t bad. Besides, it was temporary. I certainly wasn’t planning on staying in this town forever.
A breeze prickled the skin on my forearms, and I found myself thinking that I should go home to get some rest. But somehow, I couldn’t pull my gaze away from that window. It seemed to expand in my vision, with its welcoming amber light. Just a quick look. It wouldn’t take long. Almost of its own volition, my hand reached for the latch to open the gate. A sharp breeze ruffled my hair. A sweet scent. The fragrance of violets. Was that perfume? I turned my head to the road.
A face! My heart leapt in my chest, and a sharp gasp escaped my lips. No. No, there was nothing there. Just the empty road and the chill moonlight. But that face caught in my mind. A girl, about my age. A sad, distant look in her eyes, the moonlight casting a silvery sheen onto her skin. Had I imagined that? I took a deep breath, held it, and then let it out slowly, as I felt my pulse start to slow. Hesitant, I glanced back over my shoulder at the cabin. Lips pursed, I shook my head to myself. Overworked and over-tired. Whoever might be in that old shack wouldn’t want visitors anyway. Not at this hour. What a silly thought to have had.
My footsteps were loud on the lonely asphalt. This road was worn through in places, with grass sprouting between cracks. Cars usually kept to the main road, wider and with fewer sharp bends and steep inclines. That was part of the reason I liked to walk this way. I usually had the road to myself. That night though, I couldn’t help but feel like I wasn’t alone. I looked back over my shoulder once. Twice. Over and over. I was the only one there, but I could have sworn I heard a second pair of footsteps. No, not heard. Felt. No, that was absurd. I was just sleepy and paranoid. That was all.
I dug my hands into my jacket pockets, trying to shake the strange events of the evening from my mind, my fingers finding my keys. Phone. My lucy coin. Unconsciously, a faint glimmer of a smile crossed my lips. I pulled it out of my pocket to look at. Golden metal turned silver-gray in the moonlight. A hole in its centre, and writing I couldn’t read. A Japanese tourist had given it to me last summer, telling me it would bring me good luck. What it really brought me was ambition. I was tired of this town. There was nothing left for me here. Each time I looked at this coin, I made a promise to myself, to leave and go somewhere far away. The night breeze was increasingly cool against my face, but that thought kept me warm for the rest of the walk home.
I awoke the next morning to sunlight streaming in through my half-drawn curtains, filling my bedroom with gold and honeyed warmth. Groggy, kicked off the duvet in the warmth of the daylight. I didn’t even remember getting home, much less going to bed. I must’ve been more tired than I thought. Staring at the ceiling, hazy memories bubbled slowly to the surface of my mind. Cold moonlight. A warm candlelit glow in an unfamiliar window. That face! With a start, I sat bolt upright in my bed. Those haunting eyes were seared onto my memory like icy hot coals. But surely that couldn’t have been real. Just my half-asleep mind playing tricks on me.
Sleep deprivation could cause your mind to play tricks sometimes. At least that’s what I’d heard. How long had it been since I’d had a day off? I glanced at the table by my bedside. A glass of water, my lucky coin, and the digital clock with bold red numbers. 11:43. After this set of shifts were over, I decided, I should take a few days off. The only reason I’d been working so much was to save money. All part of my plan to leave this place to find somewhere new. I picked up my lucy coin, seeing it glint in the morning sunlight, and made that promise to myself again. I had dreams to find, and I wasn’t going to find them here.
While showering and getting dressed, my thoughts kept coming back to that cabin on the edge of the woods, and the flickering orange glow in the window. Sitting down for a quick meal, I found myself using my phone to check the map of the area. There was no cabin on the maps, of course. It was surely little more than an old derelict. But there had definitely been someone there, hadn’t there? Could I have imagined that too? I took a sip from a steaming hot cup of tea, wondering if my half-asleep mind had dreamed up my entire walk home the previous night. It would certainly explain it.
I studied the map closely. The road. Lumley’s woods. I couldn’t be certain, but I had a fairly good idea where I’d been. I resolved to try and see the cabin during daylight. I’d be leaving to go back to work soon. If I left earlier, I could take a look for it. Maybe try to take a closer look. I didn’t know why, but somewhere inside my chest was a burning compulsion to see it more clearly. Smouldering inside me like a hot coal. I couldn’t have told you why I even wanted to. Perhaps I wanted to prove to myself that I hadn’t imagined the whole thing.
Soon enough, it was 3pm. I stepped into my shoes and threw on my jacket, slipping my lucky coin into my pocket before heading out. The same door. The same road. I knew this walk so well, I could do it with my eyes closed. Today though, I was paying attention to where I was, checking the map on my phone. I noticed every corner, every incline, and every pothole in the old road surface. As I walked, I realised all the things I usually ignored completely. A shiny-leaved rhododendron bush. An elder tree with a clutch of white elderflowers, filling the air with a fresh, sweet scent.
Flowers. A memory caught in my mind, of the scent of violets and a pair of sad eyes. Were there violets in bloom at this time of year? They usually grew near the woods. I’d heard someone say that once. Perhaps that’s where I caught the scent of them the previous night. In the daylight, it all seemed so much more rational. Logical. I sighed, letting a smile cross my lips. Maybe there was an explanation for the previous night’s strangeness.
Soon enough, I found a gate in the dry stone wall. A tall stalk of hogweed growing next to it. I stepped up to the gate and looked out, across the field towards the trees. Was this the same gate I’d stood at before? It certainly looked like it. It was hard to tell if those were the same trees. Everything looked so different in the bright sunlight. The afternoon sun carried the fragrance of warm grass, and the faint scent of charcoal smoke which made my stomach growl. If I hadn’t been working, I’d have been tempted to have an afternoon barbecue, myself.
The sun felt warm against my face. I shielded my eyes with a hand. Craned my neck. Squinted at the trees. I couldn’t see the cabin anywhere. Was this the wrong gate? I checked my phone again, its screen struggling to be visible in the bright sun. I looked up and down the road. Perhaps this was the wrong place. I didn’t remember. I looked back the way I’d come. I was sure I’d passed another gate back there. Hadn’t I? Perhaps it was that one. Checking the time, I frowned. I didn’t really have time to go back and look. Disappointed, I carried on, heading to work.
That evening’s shift passed slowly. Holiday season hadn’t started yet, thankfully. I wasn’t looking forward to all of those tourists. Without them, it was still quiet. Just a few locals propping up the bar. The same few as always. Nothing for me to do but occasionally pour another beer. The same as nearly every night I’d worked for months. I tried asking a few people about the cabin. Everyone had stories, of course. Witches and ghosts and monsters. The usual kind of thing. No one had anything helpful to say about where it might be. A few boring hours. The last stragglers finally left for the night, as always. I tidied the bar as always. I couldn’t wait to get out and head home. Saying goodnight, I threw my jacket on and headed out into the humid night air.
When I saw it, I stopped dead in my tracks. The cabin. The same icy moonlight glinting off its roof. The same warm candlelit glow pouring from its one window. I craned my neck to see over the stone wall, before looking up and down the road I’d been walking down. Was this where I’d stopped earlier? I didn’t remember. The gate should be near here, surely. I quickened my pace, eager to take a closer look, for reasons I couldn’t quite understand. Somewhere inside my mind was an itch, which I needed to scratch. I needed to see more of that welcoming candlelight.
There! The gate. The stalk of hogweed. A cool breeze carried the scent of violets as I approached. My eyes widened, and I stopped dead in my tracks. Someone was standing by the gate, looking out at the field. Towards the cabin. I’d never seen anyone else walking here before. Not at this time of night, anyway. Suddenly hesitant, I kept walking. The figure turned as I approached. A girl, about my age. A sad, distant look in her eyes. I opened my mouth to speak, my lips trying to shape words which refused to leave my throat.
“You should keep away from this place.” Her voice sounded distant somehow. Like she was speaking from behind a veil.
I glanced to the cabin, then back to the girl, her face silvery in the moonlight. So I hadn’t imagined her after all. A deep frown crumpled my forehead. “Were you here last night?”
“I’m always here.” She turned and looked back towards the cabin. “You should keep away,” she said again.
I shook my head, not understanding. Tentatively, I stepped to the gate, standing next to her. Looking out towards the cabin with its inviting window. It looked so warm. Welcoming.
“It isn’t what it seems,” she said, as if reading my mind. “Don’t trust the light.”
Something in her voice caught in my mind. Some indescribable note in her tone made my skin prickle. “Who are you?” I asked.
“My name’s Isobel.” She turned to me again. “And I’ve been here ever since the light claimed me.”
“Claimed you?” I could feel the blood starting to drain from my face. “What do—” I stammered. “I don’t—”
“That’s what it does.” Her eyes seemed deeper somehow, as she fixed them on me. I couldn’t seem to break my gaze from hers. “It wants to take from you. Invites you in. Steals the thing you treasure most.”
I leaned my head closer to her, the scent of violets filling the air. The fragrance growing ever stronger.
“My life was going so well.” She dropped her gaze. “So the light took my life away.”
I turned to look back to the cabin, steely cold in the moonlight. That single warm light in the window. When I turned back, Isobel was gone. The scent of violets was gone with her. Nothing but the aroma of the damp night air.
I stifled a shudder, backing away from the gate. From the light. I found myself walking away. Slowly at first. Then more briskly. Before I knew it, I was striding home as fast as I could without breaking into a run.
By the time I got to my door, my breath was coming in ragged gasps. My shaking fingers dug my keys from my pocket. Trembling as I tried to unlock my door. I dropped my keys twice before I could turn the lock and let myself in. Closing the door heavily behind myself, I sank to the ground. I was still trying to process the walk home. That girl, Isobel. A ghost. A ghost! The whole idea was preposterous. But it had really happened. Hadn’t it?
It takes the thing you treasure most. That’s what she’d said. I looked around my meagre home. Unkempt and badly in need of a tidy. A stark thought struck somewhere deep in the back of my mind. I wasn’t even sure what I had to treasure. I was so bored of this place. This life. There wasn’t anything for me here anymore, and there hadn’t been for some time. I let out a long, ragged sigh. Looked up at a hook where a picture frame had once been. What could the light even take from me that hadn’t already been taken?
My sleep was fitful that night. I kept waking up, afraid there was someone in the room with me. But each time, I was alone. Just like always. I found myself wondering about Isobel. When she’d said her life had been going well, I’d almost felt a pang of jealousy. I hadn’t noticed at the time, with everything else. I frowned at the thought, immediately feeling bad for even thinking it. What a terrible thing to think. But it was a feeling I longed to feel again. I turned over in my bed, trying to put the thoughts from my mind.
I woke up the next day feeling as if I’d barely slept at all. On autopilot, I performed my usual routine. By this point, I could do it without even thinking. Showering. Getting dressed. A bite to eat. A cup of tea. Before I knew it, I was heading out of the door on my way to work. I only stopped for a moment to check my lucky coin was still in my jacket pocket. Then I found myself heading to work. I didn’t even remember most of the journey there, and my entire shift would turn out to be just as unmemorable. Soon enough, the day was over and I was heading home again.
It was almost familiar to me now, catching sight of the candlelit window of that cabin on the edge of the woods. I stopped as I was walking. Next to that gate with that tall stalk of hogweed. I paused for a moment, to look through. Isobel’s words echoed in my ears. How it had claimed her. I still didn’t know exactly what she’d meant, and I wasn’t sure I cared to find out. But something seemed different that night. There was a weight to the air which hadn’t been there before. As I looked out across the field to the cabin, I saw the door silently open.
My mouth felt dry as I looked. I could see that warm, inviting light through the doorway now. My hesitation started to evaporate. Surely a quick look wouldn’t hurt. I had nothing in my life that it could possibly want. Unthinkingly, my hand reached for the latch holding the gate closed. I opened it. Pushed slightly. The uneven turf in the field beckoned my feet. Felt lumpy beneath my footsteps. A cool breeze carried the scent of violets.
“Stop.”
I turned. Isobel was standing behind me.
“You mustn’t.” Her eyes looked determined.
“I…” My words felt slow, like they were stuck in treacle. “I need to look. Just one quick look.”
Turning, I started to head towards the cabin again.
“Please! Don’t!”
I gasped as I felt her hand grasp my arm. Her fingers felt cold. Insubstantial. Like a winter wind laced with ice. My heart started to beat faster as I met her gaze. She seemed surprised, letting go of my arm as suddenly as she’d grabbed it. As if she hadn’t expected to be able to. Wordless, I glanced back to the cabin, then to Isobel. As I watched, she started to look faint.
“No,” she whispered, her arms struggling as if she was being gripped by something I couldn’t see. “No, I won’t let you. Not again. Not—”
Suddenly, she was gone. As if she’d never been there. I took a shaky step back, my legs suddenly feeling weak. What had happened to her, I couldn’t tell. But I realised I needed to get out. Entering the field had been a mistake. Isobel had warned me and I’d almost done something terribly foolish.
I turned to walk back towards the gate. But when I took a step, I found myself walking towards the cabin again. A feeling of dread settled in my stomach like a cold lump of iron. I turned. Again, the cabin was in front of me. I took a step backwards, before turning to realise I was another step closer to the cabin. The window seemed larger now. The door, a gaping void. I could feel my breathing quicken as I realised I was trapped by something I didn’t understand. No matter where I stepped, I always found myself a step closer to it somehow. A step closer to the open maw of the doorway. And the candlelight. Was that really what it was? It didn’t feel like candlelight anymore. And it no longer felt welcoming. Something in it, almost imperceptible, started to feel expectant. Hungry. I tried again to take a step away, but again it only took me a step closer. A strangled sob escaped my throat. I was little more than a fly caught in a web.
I took a deep, shaky breath, exhaling slowly. I had nothing it could want. I kept telling myself that. Trying to reassure myself. Maybe I was trapped, but surely it had no power over me. I steeled my nerves. Looked to the gaping doorway. I let out a ragged sigh, resigned to whatever fate now lay in store. Placing one foot in front of the other, I took the final few steps towards that terrible doorway.
The next thing I knew, I was waking up in bed the following day, sitting sharply upright to sunlight streaming in through my half-drawn curtains. I felt light. Refreshed. The gold of the sunlight felt soft as silk on my skin. I let myself lie back down, wondering if it had all been some horrible dream. I really needed to take some time off work. I made a note to myself to ask about that when I arrived at the pub later.
A deep confusion still weighed heavy over my mind. I knew I’d looked into the doorway of the cabin. Seen… something. Something which had left some kind of mark on me. Burned into me like a hot piece of iron. I replayed the strange events of the previous night, but they somehow didn’t seem frightening, or even unusual now. What had I seen? I didn’t remember.
I glanced over to my bedside table. An empty water glass. The clock read 09:04. Next to it, a small coin. Golden metal. A hole in its centre, and writing I couldn’t read. I frowned at it. Where did I get that? I didn’t remember. But it probably wasn’t important. I left the coin where it was, got up and headed for the shower. After all, I had to get ready for work. I was looking forward to it. After all, it was nearly the holiday season.
About the Creator
Xan Indigo
science fiction • fantasy • horror • botany • astronomy • tea
Comments (1)
Very descriptive, and I liked the magic of the lucky coin at the end!