Not Just for Fun Anymore

The cabin in the woods has been abandoned for years, but one night a candle burned in the window. Odd that the flame should shine so bright, given the filthy state of all the other windows. It looked as if a small circle had been cleaned from the window intentionally. When Ben said as much to Sharon she laughed quietly and shook her head, brushed past him and boldly marched toward the cabin’s front door.

Ben’s cousin Sharon was like that. Always taking on the most dangerous dares, denying common sense at every turn, and of course dragging Ben along for every dreaded event. He had literally saved her life more times than she could count, but Sharon was not one to be scared by near death experiences.

Still, his was different than base jumping, free climbing, kite surfing, ghost hunting etc. Ben just knew that this one was going to be real. Sharon was into the paranormal, so she has been dragging him all around the country from ghost town to abandoned shack, from mines to “forbidden forests,” and Ben was getting tired.

Naturally, when they heard about this cabin right in their county, of course, they had to check it out. No moon, no stars. It is hot. Humid. Heavy The owls, frogs and crickets, they vanished about five minutes ago. Not a natural beast to be heard or seen. It is more than silent. It is stagnant. The very air around the cabin seems fetid and evil.

Sharon’s careless stomping becomes almost too much for Ben to bare. Get a hold of yourself Ben! He chides himself. Still, he cannot shake the feeling. He keeps spinning around, trying to catch sight of the inky tendrils he feels crawling up and over his shoulders. He stares into the shadows trying to put eyes to the malicious presence.

Sharon is half way to the front door of this once majestic cabin, when Ben catches up to her. He puts a hand on her shoulder to stop her. The next thing he knows, he’s looking up at her intense green eyes from the moist, mossy pathway. Her eyes are wide and her breathing fast. Apparently, she’s more spooked than usual as well.

She chuckles nervously and holds her hand out to help him up. “Sorry Ben, you scared the hell out of me!”

“Sharon, let’s get out of here. This place is bad news.”

“You always say th…what was that!” She whips around again almost knocking Ben down for the second time.

“WHAT!” Ben squeaks a couple of octaves or so higher than his usual baritone.

“Something ran past me!”

“What was it?” Ben breathes. “Where did it go?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t really see it. Hey look, the candle is almost burned out. Up there. Look.” Sharon notices as she points to the second story’s conveniently cleaned window.

“You seriously still don't want to check it out, do you? Come on let’s go.” Ben says as he turns back to the swampy, nightmarish woods and safety.

“Oh, come on Ben. It was probably just a bat.”

Suddenly commotion breaks out deep in the forest. Breaking branches, grunting, snarling. A high-pitched wail. And then silence. Or rather near silence. The sound of light, purposeful foot falls and heavy breathing cut through the heavy air. The sounds are getting closer. More intense. Ben looks at Sharon with wild blue eyes and they both sprint toward the door.

Stumbling up the dilapidated steps, Sharon slams into the door. The foot falls become pounding feet and the breathing becomes a slobbering, hungry grunting. Sharon tries the knob but it comes off in her hand. Ben and Sharon try to push open the door, but it is wedged tight from all the humidity. Ben is struggling to breath in this oppressive heat. They can hear the thing’s clothes swishing against its legs. It’s getting closer. Closer! And the snarling takes on a savagely human quality. They frantically push at the door.

Finally, it gives and just before they tumble in and slam it shut, an illuminated face, hideously disfigured but obviously human at some point, appears within inches of Ben’s face. Clawed fingers rake across his T-shirt sleeves as if to grab him. They slam the door shut with their feet almost pinning the disfigured hand. A senseless chortle emanates from behind the rotting wooden door. The being makes no move to enter. It just stands there cackling insanely.

Ben and Sharon realize now that they are just where the thing wants them. Once the initial shock wears off, they untangle from each other and try to stand up. Sharon puts her hand down and hears a sickening crunch. She creams and pulls her hand away, falling back to the rough floor boards. Ben is holding his flashlight like it’s the only thing separating himself from insanity. He shakily shines down his light on the sticky floorboards.

Nearly dropping the flashlight as Sharon screams again, this time quickly covering her mouth, they observe the decaying remains of a half-eaten maggot-ridden tiny corpse. The slimy floor is carpeted with roaches, spiders and various degrees of rotting creatures large and small.

Sharon violently brushes off her clothes and shakes her long red hair; trying to rid herself of all real and imagined horrors. It is so muggy and hot that breathing is nearly impossible. Within minutes their shirts and shorts are soaked with sweat. The smell of rotting…something was almost visible. That was when they realized the cackling had stopped. Where did it go?

The dim light from the candle upstairs paints grotesque shadows on the far wall at the top of the stairs. It looks as though it is about to go out. Sharon looked at Ben as if to say, “Well we are here, might as well check it out.” Ben shook his head adamantly, and grabbed her bare arm so tight it hurt. All he could do was continue shaking his head, silently pleading. He felt like if he took one more step something would take him. He has never felt an evil so real that it consumed him and ate at him from the inside out. If he had only known…

Sharon put her hand over Ben’s and slowly pries his fingers off her arm one by one. Once she is free, she squeezes his hand and starts walking toward the stairs still holding his hand firmly. He follows, like he always does, flashing the light unsteadily in front of them.

Multiple things happen at once. An old shutter slams behind them, although there is no breeze. The light from the candle blows out. As Sharon takes her last step, her foot plunges through the creaking, ragged floor boards. Her bare leg being ripped to shreds by nails and splinters as she falls through, her other leg crumples but stops her from going any further; the damage, however, is done.

Ben gets pulled back and his flashlight careens through the air barely missing Sharon’s head. It hits something solid and blinks out. At first, she thought he must have fallen through a board as well, but then she hears a sound so desolate she almost faints. Ben begins to wail. Begging for help. Pleading with something or someone to stop. A banshee-like screech and then…silence. It was as if Ben had never existed. He and whatever took him had simply vanished.

Sharon was in utter blackness. All alone with just her guilt to consul her. No more creaking boards. No more cackling or wailing. Just Sharon’s silent, retching sobs. She lay there crumpled on the floor, leg stuck and bleeding for minutes? Hours?

“Sharon!” A whisper of a sound, but where was it coming from?

“Sharon!” Again, Ben’s desperate whisper.

“Sharon!” She heard it again in yet another part of the house.

Where is it taking him? What kind of sick game is this?

Tired of being the victim, Sharon resolves to pull her leg out of the hole. She blindly puts her hands down on either side of her leg squishing countless disgusting vermin in the process. Fighting the urge to retch, she pushes up with her hands and her other leg.

The whispered uttering of her name has finally stopped. Thank God! Sharon thought and immediately regretted her relief. “He’s dead, Sharon, you fool, you killed him and now you are relieved?” Shaking her head and feeling the tears stream through the dust, spider webs and grime on her usually pristine and stoic face. As she pushes up, she feels the skin on her leg rip open. Grinding her teeth, she tries to move her leg away from the nail that is pressing into her flesh.

“SHAR!!!” a sickeningly shrill yell pierces the tepid air but is abruptly cut off.

“BEN!!!” Sharon screams as she rips her leg violently out of the hole leaving a fair chunk behind. Bleeding and half out of her mind she stumbles in the direction of the last scream. It sounded like it was coming from upstairs.

Racing blindly toward the stairs she falls and stumbles multiple times, banging into old furniture and then finally clambering up the stairs. A light flashes right in front of her and a face appears for a brief moment before whipping away into absolute darkness once more. She almost falls back down the stairs.

The cackling returns this time in stereo. Another light flashes off to the side with another face, this one more hideous than the one at the front door. The faces are inches away and she can smell decay on their breath.

Again, total darkness and sudden silence. Sharon stands still, not breathing, not moving. Paralyzed with fear and weak from the loss of blood. Another light, another face. This one laughing silently. Another light. Another face.

She has to find Ben! Trying to ignore the faces and the maniacal laughter. Pressing on, she heads down a hallway with several doors. She tentatively opens the first one and a black figure with an illuminated mask stands silently in the doorway.

She screams, slams the door in his face and heads to the next one. Before she opens the next door, she makes out a voice. Wrenching open the door, “Ben?” She whispers hoarsely.

“Sharon.” A weak voice full of agony whispers from a pitch- black corner. Before she could sprint over to him, she feels hot breath on the neck. Suddenly, she’s pitched forward into the room with Ben. The door slams behind her.

“Sharon.” Barely a whisper. She crawls to the sound of desperate voice.

Once she gets there, however, the corner is vacant.

“Please.” Ben’s voice begs. From another corner. Sharon scrambles to her feet, slipping on her own blood. She heads in the direction of the voice again. Her knees bump into something solid but soft. Putting her hands down to stop herself from falling, she feels something like a knobby stick. A modern lamp clicks on to reveal a black clothed figure lying on a bed. The figure’s masked, smiling face turns robotically toward her. And then the light flashes off. Her eyes were just beginning to get adjusted to the darkness, when the lamp snapped off and plunged her back into complete oblivion.

“Sharon!” The voice urges.

She tries to step around the bed. Was the horror still lying there? Where was he? Was he going to grab her?

When she gets to the other corner, again, she finds no one. She turns around trying to remember where the door was. Just as she takes her first step, a beam of light illuminates a different masked face, this one frowning with a black tear painted on its cheek. The face appears to float inches away from her face. Then again, the flashlight blinks out and the presence is gone.

Sharon can take it no more. She Screams. Darkness. Silence.

“Why are you doing this?” She sobs.

No answer.

“Ben! Ben!!" She finally finds the door, grabs hold of the knob, flings it open, strides out, then slams it so hard the house shutters. She grabs her hair in her fists and yells out of rage, terror, guilt and frustration.

Her battle cry is met with mocking indifference.

She marches across the hallway to where she figures another door should be, purposefully stomping and grinding any vermin into the frayed and matted rug. When she reaches for the next doorknob it’s not there.

This room is open and ready for her. No voices. No laughter. No grabbing or pushing hands. Just a black space made perceptible by minute cracks in the outer walls. Taking a resolute breath, she steps into the room. As she expected, the door closed and was audibly locked behind her.

“Why are you doing this?” Sharon demands in a whisper directing her voice toward the cracks in the walls.

As usual there is no verbal response, but a dim, crimson spotlight begins

to illuminate a face; the same grotesque face that first lured them into the cabin. Then the muted light moves down slowly revealing a robed, hunched, humanoid figure, still mostly in shadows. The light expands slowly outward. The being appears to be standing next to what looks like some sort of long and bulky bag. As the crimson beam continues to expand outward, the bag takes on an alarmingly humanoid shape.

She begins to make out hiking boots, then a man’s bare legs. He seems to be hanging at an unnatural angle. When the light finally reaches what is left of the face, Sharon gasps. As if on que, the masked figure slashes above the hanging body with a long, curved knife and it falls limp like a pile of spaghetti.

The red spotlight blinks off. And for a moment Sharon stands again in silence and darkness. But then the house lights click on to reveal…

Bodies…Like spaghetti…

So. Many. Bodies.

“Aren’t you glad you came?” A hollow, but sickeningly familiar, voice coos.

Then all the lights go out.

Sharon screams.

THE END