Terror in the Woods

The Terror in the Woods

The cabin in the woods had been abandoned for years, but one night, a candle burned in the window. Everyone ignored it. After all, times were tough. Transients came and went, and no one would begrudge a person staying the night in the place, no matter how decrepit it was.

Then the disappearances started.

At first one noticed. Passers through were expected to do just that. The bodies found in the woods were so mangled that there was no way to tell who they had been. A part here and a part there might give an indication, but really, why would anyone look too closely? The bears had been coming closer and closer to town in recent years and even the deer had been acting strangely since Covid. No one thought twice about a few grisly corpses a bit closer to town than usual. People minded their business.

Then one day, three young people did not come back from lunch break at school. That in itself was not cause for concern. Kids play hooky after all. The weather was nice. There was hunting and fishing to be had. Except they didn’t come back that afternoon. They also didn’t return to their houses by supper time. They didn’t return at all.

A search party was sent out. This time, the good townsfolk paid a little bit closer attention to the mangled corpses they came in contact with in the woods. They couldn’t help but observe things they would rather not notice. A familiar shoe here. A recognizable t-shirt there. All the signs were pointing to something everyone would rather not see.

It might still be an animal. Calls went out for all able-bodied hunters. A warning to the townspeople was heard far and wide. Do not venture into the woods. There is a rabid animal, probably a bear. It will not hesitate to kill. Arm yourself with whatever you can. The local stores sold out of ammo and pepper spray within the hour.

One of the searchers was of a more suspicious nature. He did not believe it was an animal. While the family members of the fallen moaned and cried, he leaned in a little closer. He ran his fingers just over the wounds. He pulled out his own knife, to the gasps and cries of the women mourning their sons. He shook his head.

“This is no animal,” he said,” at least not the kind you think.”

Into the woods went this lone searcher, on a hunt of his own. His prey was the most dangerous kind of animal. He tracked the butcher for miles, stopping at the cabin in the woods where the only sign of his prey was a spent candle and blood-soaked floors.

Occasionally, he would come across the mutilated remains of what had once been a human being next to a campfire. Only through careful review of the charred camp was he able to determine that his prey was not just killing for sport. Disgust filled the hunter, but he continued until he closed the distance between them. He knew this was not by chance. The diseased mind had determined that he was the only worthy prey.

This was not a satisfaction the hunter was willing to give his quarry. Instead, he waited at the outside of the cave where he finally determined the cannibal lurked, unwilling to give him the upper hand.

The depraved maniac would not accept this. He ranted and raved, howling at the hunter to come and get him. Still, the hunter waiter. When darkness came, the hunter started a fire to keep warm.

Seeing the fire, the maniac became even more incensed. His cries became filled with terror. In his madness, the fire was a monster coming to eat him. He came raging out of the cave and ran to the fire until it consumed him. The hunter shot him three times, and left his body to burn.

The hunter returned to the town the next day, walking miles through the night because the danger was gone. His presence, alone, with his gun casually on his shoulder, told the townspeople all they needed to know. They unbarred their doors.