Seeing is Believing

The cabin in the woods had been abandoned for years, but one night, a candle burned in the window. No one had ever stepped inside, and neither had the candle ever stopped burning.

Its waxy satan-colored figure stood tall before the glass; its flame irritatingly flickered as though it scoffed from every gossiping rumor that spread between the ears of the grapevine.

There were the believers.

No one knows who created the very first rumor that had naturally passed itself down to curious virgin ears. The sad story of a spiteful soul trapped inside the cabin, waiting for the first person to help release them. Every unique twist and tweak has beaten down the origins of the tale to an unrecognizable pulp, so much that most people have forgotten what exactly they were supposed to be looking for anymore.

Through the musty faded windows, only a small room and bellowing shadows encompassed the single-lit candle. It was nearly impossible to see beyond the distance that the light could merely reach.

No one had ever seen anything, or perhaps the uncanny feeling of being watched from inside was what kept anybody from staying any longer than a few minutes. Because without needing to actually see it, everyone who believed just knew that there was something in there.

It goes without saying, that there were also the non-believers.

The self-righteous bunch that had assumed these rumors were nothing but fabricated fables meant to scare gullible teens and children as a form of coercive conformity of staying out at night. It wouldn't take much to bore the more smug children from the conversation though, glistening with unimpressed half-opened eyes—and still sneaking out late in the nighttime.

No one tries hard to convince them, however. It was a fair point to question the concept of blindly believing in the supernatural you have no evidence upon.

"Seeing is believing."

Yet there is still the irony of shifting in your seat and checking behind your shoulder at night, regardless of your beliefs.

A week had gone by, and no single person had yet dared to open the door.

Afraid and mostly confused, the young pale boy that had been occupying the empty cabin slowly walked towards the ever-withstanding candle. Freshly melted wax dripped onto the old wood floor, adding to the small pile of hardened wax. He hadn't known how many days he had been in there, but the once tall candle had now fallen to a short stump. And the door still wouldn't budge.

The boy looked out the window and smiled. One passerby.

His fear of abandonment had slowly shifted to resentment. He questioned if he had finally grown used to it. The flourishing thrill of seeing strangers care enough to come by, peek inside as though they were looking just for him. As though they had known about a mischievous boy who had been the first and only person to walk into the empty old cabin, lured from a bright candle eerily set ablaze, bright enough to be seen through the thick and dark branches of the night. Not knowing later on that he would never be able to come back out.

At least, he can only hope that was the story they knew of.

He'd watch them, a rotation of new people, through multiple windows from afar, admiring them with halos in his eyes. He'd also watch the depressingly typical expression of rejection, regardless if they had even seen him or not.

But he'd see them, he always did. He used to think that seeing would mean believing there was hope, but he would never see what he had wanted.

The door wasn't even locked—from the outside.

A woman, no fear in her eyes, looked around the interior through the same window the boy noticed her from. She was another non-believer and thus peeked through for much longer than most people, in hope of seeing what the talk was all about. Her eyes widened and stopped where the pale boy was.

A whirlwind of immediate relief suddenly evaporated into bewilderment as he noticed that she wasn't staring at him.

The little candle flame fluttered profusely...then darkness took over its final breath. In the reflection of the moonlit window was another pale body, other than his own.

Rather than feeling afraid, the boy was sad to realize that he wasn't the one people were looking for. That feeling stayed with him as he watched the horrified woman run away.

He still tried to understand, however. Of course, no one wanted to come inside and deal with the same fate as his, trapped and left abandoned by fearful witnesses. Like the others, that would've been the last time he'd ever see her again. Except, with the candle no longer existing to attract attention, that'd probably be the last time he'd see anyone ever again.

But he was eventually fine with the fact that he wasn't alone.