The Cabin in the Woods

The cabin in the woods had been abandoned for years, but one night, a candle burned in the window. The newly lit flame was the first beacon of hope that one day, the trapped and tortured souls inside the cabin, would be able to break free.

You see, the candle's flame represented the light inside each human soul that it had extinguished. The cabin had just captured the soul of its 100th victim, completely unaware that with each soul it captured, the good energy and power inside grew stronger each time. After the 100th soul entered the cabin, all of the energy bursting within its walls finally collided together and ignited the dusty and half-burnt white candle in the window that had been left there long ago by its first visitor in 1892.

***

William Clarence was thrilled about his first hiking trip to Sequoia National Park. He has always been quite the loner, even as a young child, being teased for his short stature and high-pitched lisp. As a boy, William found solace among the trees and fell in love with hiking. He would discover local trails nearby and set off for the day, making his home in a large pine tree while foraging for his lunch.

Sequoia had just been established as America's second national park two years earlier in 1890, and William had been dying to go ever since. Sequoia National Park is known for its massive sequoia trees that shoot toward the skies. One of the trees, over 3,000 years old, conceals deep hidden secrets in each of her rings from dark happenings within the forest.

Since the park opening was pretty recent, not many hiking trails had been paved through the thick forest. Even so, William was confident in his backcountry hiking abilities and his knowledge of navigation with his grandfather's compass. It was an old silver engraved compass with a few small dents from falling from trees and crashing on rocks while tumbling out of Williams pocket at 20 feet above the ground.

William needed a break and longed to spend more time in the forest. He knew Sequoia National Park was the perfect getaway. He had meticulously packed his hiking bag with a hefty sleeping bag, water canister, food, a single candle, an almost empty pack of matches, his compass, and a well-stocked first aid kit. He began his exploration wandering down a well-carved path through giant sequoias bigger than the shack he lived in. After a while, he began veering off the hiking trail and trudging through the thick brush, only relying on his compass for navigation.

As William wandered deeper into the dense forest, the towering trees began extinguishing the light of day little by little. William was still trying to stay on track, following his compass North so that he would simply follow it South on his way out. What William didn't know was that the earth beneath the giant beauties contained high levels of magnetite, a natural earth element that causes magnets to go off course. Of course, it was unbeknownst to William that he had been wandering off course for countless hours.

He eventually stumbled upon a beautiful tree that stood out from the rest. This tree's roots had started growing above ground and made an intricately beautiful pattern all around the tree's base. As he made his way around the tree, he noticed a dense fog settling along the tree line further away. Hidden within the fog and the trees, he could barely make out what looked like an old run-down cabin. This certainly piqued his interest because being a newly established national park, there were no long-term residences or buildings in the park beside the main offices.

The cabin looked abandoned, made of old rotting boards and covered in a layer of moss. Two open holes were cut for windows on either side of a broken door hanging half off its hinges. William heard a faint scratching sound like an animal's claws on wood coming from inside the cabin. He cautiously approached and peeked inside one of the window areas for any signs of danger. Instead, he could only see a small wooden table with two chairs.

No animals in sight, but still, the noise persisted. William decided to investigate further. As he approached the door, he felt a slight shiver and his heart skipped a beat as he took a sharp inhale to catch his breath. He was a little perplexed by this sudden bodily anomaly, but he thought nothing of it as he was exhausted and had been hiking for hours. He reached out to grab the crumbling door and with a heavy shove, pushed the door open and took the first step inside the cabin.

As soon as both of William's feet were firmly planted inside, the cabin door abruptly slammed behind him, and all remembrances of daylight were instantly suffocated. Darkness engulfed him and the sounds of the once distant scratching intensified. Everything happened so quickly that William couldn't even process what was happening.

"How did the door close? What happened to the light? What is that noise, and where is it coming from? Is it a threat? This cabin had carved-out windows. Where was the light? WHAT HAPPENED TO THE LIGHT?"

He tried to rationally calm his racing heart and remembered that he had packed a single candle and his pack of matches in his rut sack. Fumbling around in the unknown darkness, he felt the smooth, waxy surface of the candle and the small match bag next to it. He held the candle between his elbow and chest as he shakily struck his match and lit the wick. The scratching noises instantly stopped as the candle's light touched the darkness. William spun around to try to open the door that had just shut, but all that was behind him was a dark and solid wall.

"Where was the door?! What had happened to the door I JUST walked through?! "

As he stepped in to examine the wall closer, that's when he noticed it. Deep carved scratches all over the wall matching the shape and size of something that a human hand would make. He extended his arm out and slowly touched the scratches with his own fingertips. His body froze, and he tried to take a deep breath to steady himself, but on his exhale, he exhausted the light of the candle in his hand.

The scratching noises began again, slow and steady. High-pitched like nails on a chalkboard.

Williams's heart was in his throat as he desperately tried to grasp the candle in his arm again and light another match. The first match broke between his fingers and was useless. The second match struck on cue and once again lit the candle. The scratching instantly ceased.

Three matches gone.

William moved closer to the walls, scanning every inch with the dim light from his candle to see the magnitude of how far the scratches reached. They were everywhere. On the walls, the floors, and the ceilings. Scratches going every which way and intersecting like a busy city road map. All logic and calm had been depleted from William's body, and panic started to set in as he took step after step with his small candle clutched desperately between his sweaty palms trying to find the window openings he had seen from the outside.

He took a few steps to his right and discovered a small 1x1 foot carved-out space in the wall that resembled a window box. But instead of looking out into the forest where he had just come from, it was just a blank space. Actually, the only area of the wall that wasn't covered in scratches. He violently hit his fist against the window box, hoping to somehow break through into the forest outside, but it was solid. As his hand swung at the window, he clumsily dropped the candle in his other hand to the ground, and the flame instantly disappeared.

The scratching began again.

William dropped to his knees, searching for the candle. Two more matches wasted as he hastily tried to light the candle once more. It was only another minute before the third match struck to chase away the darkness and incessant scratching once again.

Six matches gone. How many were left?

He set the candle down in the window box and started searching his pack for anything that may help him. His fingers touched the cool metal of his compass, and he decided to grab it out of his bag. As he placed it on the windowsill, before he could even reach back in his pack, he noticed that the hand of the compass had started wavering back and forth viciously for a few seconds before beginning an all-out spin clockwise. The compass began violently shaking, knocking over the candle next to it once more.

The scratching returned, but louder this time.

Yet again, William grabbed for the candle rolling around on the ground and the matchbook in his pocket. As his fingers searched for a match inside the tiny box, his breath stopped as he realized it was his last match left.

Seven matches. Seven matches were all he had in the matchbox.

With more concentration and precision than before, he struck the match the first time, lighting his last light of hope. He inched over to the windowsill to see that the compass had stopped moving. He put it back in his rut sack and placed the candle on the windowsill again so that he would sit down and catch his racing breath.

None of this made sense. What was happening? Why was he stuck? What on earth was making the noises? As he sat and breathed and contemplated what could possibly be happening, he looked up only to see the candlelight flickering. There was no breeze, no wind, and he was far enough away to not affect the candle's flame. Yet it looked like someone was slowly blowing on the candle, making the light waver back and forth and struggle for life, like someone trying to blow out birthday candles. And with one last flicker of hope, the candlelight went out for the last time.

The scratching started again.

William slowly stood up and started making his way around the small cabin touching each and every wall. Hitting it with his fists, kicking with his legs, trying anything he could to escape. It wasn't long before he realized that he was the one clawing and scratching at the walls desperately. His own hands were contributing to the orchestra of scratching and clawing happening all around him. He dropped to the floor in exhaustion, and that's when he felt it.

One single fingernail touched the nape of his neck and slowly ran its way down to the base of his spine. William's body froze. He couldn't breathe. Too terrified to move a muscle. Suddenly, another scratch. Just a quick swipe of a few fingernails across his arm like someone was scratching a bug bite. He rubbed his arm in disbelief and started wildly batting at the air to protect himself.

Another scratch on his left arm, his leg, his neck, his side. And then, starting at the top of his cheekbone, he felt a single point of pressure rip down from his hairline to the tip of his chin, tearing at his skin and ripping his cheek open.

At this point, William was wildly thrashing himself back and forth around the pitch-black room, desperately trying to get away. But the scratching only intensified. What was one a light scratching motion on his skin was now nails diggings into his flesh. With each scratch, William let out a scream of agony as each piece of flesh was ripped from his body piece by piece. He could feel chunks of his skin getting ripped off his body with each motion. He screamed until it felt like his lungs were bleeding. But nothing could stop it. Tear by tear, soon there was nothing left of William but pieces scattered around the room.

The scratching slowly ceased, and from what was once a bare wall, a crumbling door swung open, and the walls behind the window boxes crumbled to flood the cabin with light once again. But as soon as the light touched the inside of the cabin, there was no more William. No signs of a brutal and bloody battle, no blood, no flesh, no clothes. No signs that anyone was ever in the cabin to begin with. Except, for the single white candle that was now sitting in the open window.

***

Since 1892, ninety-nine more people have gone missing without a trace in Sequoia National Park. Although the United States has a high record for missing persons throughout their national parks system, the majority of missing persons never even make it on the record. Considering the fact that millions of people visit the park each year, this didn't deter any of the visitors, and this most certainly didn't deter Peter Glasslow.

On the evening of June 21st, 2022, the day of the summer solstice, Peter set out on a trail in the park. He was running at full speed ahead veering off course and paying no mind to where he was going. Camera in hand, he was attempting to chase the epic sunset illuminating the mighty trees.

Just like the numerous people before him, Peter let his excitement get the best of him as he wandered for hours deep into the forest to capture that perfect shot. Right before dusk, Peter stumbled upon the massive Sequoia, whose roots were growing above ground in gorgeous patterns illuminated by the setting sun. This was it. This was the shot he was looking for. But it would be his last.

As he peered around the tree, trying to get a better angle, he saw the distant flicker of light through the fog that had settled in over the mountain and the tree line. Curiosity got the best of him, and he slowly approached the old run-down cabin covered in moss with a single white candle burning in the window. Peter had no idea of the fate that awaited him inside the cabin.

To this day, that run-down cabin is still hidden deep within Sequoia National Park, waiting on its next victim.