The Candle

The cabin in the woods had been abandoned for years, but one night, a candle burned in the window. And kept burning for the next six days.

There was nothing else special about the cabin. The woods had tried to reclaim it, but someone had deliberately created a kind of clearing around the perimeter so the woods went up to that spot, stopped and then started up again. Trees and bushes and vines grew up and into the walls and posts. Several of the cloudy dirt covered windows sported holes, too uniformly shaped to be anything but deliberate. Likely from children throwing rocks to break the glass. Rural kids get into harmless destruction when left to their own devices. The cedar shingles that lined the exterior walls were missing in places, and the front door listed forlornly on its top hinge as the bottom one was missing. It only had a single story, but the pitch of the roof was high enough that there was probably a sleeping loft. They used to build houses like that. One big room with a set of narrow stairs or a ladder up to the sleeping area. Not that it matters. It was clear no one goes inside. Milla didn’t either.

Milla and her brother had moved to Beater’s Creek two summers prior. They went to school one town over, riding the bus back together and walking the mile from the town’s border to their home. Milla was 14, reed thin and in that awkward stage just before the bloom. Her brother was four years younger and her responsibility. They were the only kids in town, so it was a good thing they liked each other. Otherwise, they’d need to go one town over to have playmates. That’s where all the kids that went to school with them lived. Not surprising, actually. There weren’t many people living in Beater’s Creek.

The woods were always in a kind of half-light, with the sun filtering through the thick growth of trees to leave heavy shadows between the bright patches. After they saw the candle, they’d stood and stared at it for a bit, wondering. Milla got this funny feeling in her stomach and wanted to run away. Foolish. Babies ran from things. She’d outgrown all that. Still, she’d seen the thick white candle flickering in the window, the one unbroken window, and felt afraid. Deep in the stomach, afraid, which made no sense at all. Her brother wanted to peek inside the door to see who was living there. Obviously, someone had taken up residence. Without a hand to light the candle, it wouldn't be lit. Whoever they were, they hadn’t fixed the door. That bothered her, bothered her more than the weird black hole that went all the way around the cabin. It was a couple of feet deep and just as wide. They’d almost fallen in it the first time they’d come here, so they’d taken to giving the entire area a wide berth. The candle flickered oddly like pushed by an unseen wind while they stared and that was when she noticed how quiet it was. Not a bird singing or a squirrel scampering within earshot and nothing she could see. That added an extra something to the weird, scared feeling in her belly. Scared enough that she definitely didn’t want to get any closer, nor would she let her brother go either, so she’d told him they needed to get back, then bribed him with gum from the corner store to get him to comply.

An old man stood in the aisle and said, "Your father sleeping any better?" It was Mr. Di Prato, the owner. He always asked that. Milla wasn’t sure how he knew, but it was kind of nice that someone besides her cared.

“There’s a lit candle in the window of that old cabin, you know the one, down by the deep part of the creek.” Copeland interjected, speaking to the older woman behind the counter at the store. Miss Di Prato. She was the man’s sister. They’d lived here almost forever, had moved to the town just before her eighth birthday, just like Copeland. She’d told them that the first time they’d visited when he told her how old he was. Then she’d given them both a pack of gum and told them to stay out of the woods.

Miss Di Prato dropped her teacup.

She always sat behind the counter drinking tea and watching the news with the sound off while she waited for customers. There never were many. Someone at school told Milla that once the government had built the highway, folks started moving away, and fewer moved in to replace them. Every ten years, they got a new influx of people and others cleared out. Like clockwork, Miss Di Prato told them. Especially the folks with kids. Milla had asked once why there weren’t any kids in Beater’s Creek. Her dad had said because there wasn’t a school here. Fact was there wasn’t anything for a kid to do in the whole town. Milla didn’t mind so much. She enjoyed reading inside anyway. When Cope got bored with his game system and wanted out, she took him through the woods to throw stones in the creek. He was pretty good at skipping stones now. Two years ago, he couldn’t get them to hop even once.

“What did you say?” Miss Di Prato’s voice shook. Milla tilted her head and stared at her as Cope repeated what he’d said about the candle.

“Who saw it first?”

“What do you mean?” Milla asked, stepping closer to the counter. Miss Di Prato took a step back. Milla heard the soft clatter and scrape of the ceramic pieces on the floor as the old woman moved.

“Who saw the candle first? Did you see it and point it out to him or was it the other way around?” Milla scrunched up her face, thinking.

“I am not sure. Cope was closer though. Maybe he saw it first.” Miss Di Prato did that cross thing Catholics do when they touch their foreheads and stepped back again.

“I told you to stay away, stay out of the woods.”

“Oh come on Miss D, you know there’s no playground around here. Where else am I gonna take my little brother? We just went for a walk. There’s hardly any sidewalk around. And our apartment building doesn’t have a yard.” Milla shrugged and Cope nodded, fiddling with the wrapper of the gum packet.

“What do you know about walking?” Miss Di Prato asked, and Milla frowned, looking down at Copland.

“Don’t open that until I pay Cope. Otherwise, it’s stealing.” He grimaced and held the packet out to Miss Di Prato.

“No, no. it’s on me. You can have it. You two just get on home and stay inside, ok? Stay put and wait for your parents. Promise me.”

“Sure. I have to start dinner, anyway.” Milla said, thanking her for the gum and nudging Copeland until he thanked her as well. Then they walked the five blocks to the squat four-story apartment building where they lived on the bottom floor.

That was the thing about Beaters Creek. There were more apartment buildings than houses. Lined up like soldiers down the main street of town. The side streets had the few houses. Some that dated back to the town’s founding. She’d read in the town library that there were six founding families and they’d built the first six houses together. Lived there for years until the big flu when half of them died. Only there hadn’t just been six founding families. She’d heard at school about the seventh. No one knew much about them except they walked in the woods. That’s what everyone said. You used to see them walking, never sleeping, just walking.

Sleep makes a difference.

When they moved to Beater’s Creek, she’d learned a new word, Insomnia. Before they’d moved here, her parents hadn’t had it. Not like they did now. She heard them walking around the house at night sometimes, talking in low voices. Their mother wanted to move. Milla wished they would. Where they’d lived before, she had a lot of friends that lived close and she could hang with them after school. Cope would play with his friends and she wouldn’t have to have him in her pocket all the time. It was easier to fall asleep in their old house. It didn’t make as much noise as the apartment building. They had thin walls. You heard screaming and loud televisions and music. And walking. Everyone walked so heavily, their footsteps sounded like drumbeats over her head at night. It made so much noise she’d taken to sleeping with a light.

Something weird about that candle.

Her stomach did that twisting thing and in her mind’s eyes she saw Miss Di Prato’s face when Cope told her. It was white. Well, whiter. Her skin was always pale, like she didn’t like to go outside and did it as little as possible. No, it had gone pale, like with shock or sickness. Did she know who lit it? She’d lived in the town forever, maybe she knew about the cabin. Milla felt like she should have asked.

Milla made Copeland set the table and the two of them sat down to watch TV until their parents came home. Her father had gotten a job here, working in the power station just outside of town. It didn’t pay a lot, which is why they lived in an apartment now instead of a house. They’d lost their house. That’s how her mother put it. They’d lost it. As if they’d misplaced it somewhere while they were out one day and had given up looking for it. Their mother had gotten a job at the restaurant. It had a name, but no one ever used it, so Milla couldn’t remember what it was. If you said the restaurant, everyone knew what you were referring to because there was only one. Kept it simple. When they came home, her mother had a worried look on her face. She looked tired. Too tired to bother with weird feelings about candles and cabins, so she kept her mouth shut. Cope had taken one look at their parents and clammed up too, which was a miracle of some proportion. That kid talks a mile a minute. They were all sitting at the dinner table before Cope went back to normal. And the first thing out of his mouth was about the candle.

“I know. They told me at work,” her mother said, and her father clamped his mouth shut and looked down into his plate. Held his mouth closed so tightly Milla could see the deep etched lines in the sides of his face from where the muscles clenched. Milla followed his gaze and realized he wasn’t eating. He was pushing the food around. His face looked pale, paler than usual, and the dark circles under his eyes were darker. He reminded Milla of a raccoon with less fur or a ghost. Yeah, that was it a ghost. He looked like a ghost, or like he’d seen one. She had never seen her parents scared before. She didn’t like it. A loud thump filled the room, startling them, and they all looked towards the window. A bird lay on its side on the ledge, wings fluttering. It righted itself as they watched and flew away. Her mother made an indistinct sound, something somewhere between a hiss and a moan.

Milla looked over at her mother’s plate and saw she wasn’t eating either, so she forked up a bite of the hamburger helper and tasted it to see if maybe she’d messed something up. The flavor was fine, so it was something else.

“We told you the woods were off limits. That was the condition. You don’t go in. Why did you have to go in?” her mother said. Milla looked at her parents in confusion.

“You never said anything about a condition! Can they even do that? Forbid you from going someplace. There are no gates or signs. I don’t see the big deal.”

“There’s nothing to do! I like to walk in the woods and skip rocks on the creek. Milla taught me how.” Cope interjected, and her parents looked at him before turning back to Milla. Her mother’s eyes were wet, making the dark circles seem darker. Milla’s stomach did the twist thing again as she looked back and forth between her parents. Her throat hurt like it did when she screamed too loud and long. She bit her bottom lip, feeling afraid. Her parents were staring at her with a kind of horrified look, as if she’d said something she needed punishing for. Then her father sighed and shook his head.

“It’s done now. There’s no point in arguments. Why don’t you go for a walk?” her father said and placed a hand atop her mother’s. Her mom shook her head, and they shared a long look before she rose, dashing from the room. Milla’s dad stood as well, picking up both their plates and taking them to the sink. “You two go on to bed. I will take care of the dishes.”

Milla nodded and stood, going straight to her room, pausing for a moment outside her parent’s door. Her mom was crying. She could hear loud, wild sobbing and the sound scared her. What was the big deal?

Three hours later, Milla opened her eyes. The moonlight was shining through her window, illuminating the room. Which was wrong. She’d gone to sleep with her light on. She got up and slid her feet into her slippers, then walked to the door and hit the light switch on the wall next to it to turn on the overhead. It didn’t work. The power must be out. A soft shuffling sound drew her attention. Milla looked down the hallway to the darkened living room and frowned. Was someone in there? Her stomach clenched, and she had the insane desire to run. She didn’t. she needed to be responsible. Which meant she needed to check on her brother.

Milla walked to her brother’s bedroom and pushed open the door. The shuffling sound came again, and she frowned. Peering into the darkened room, she realized she couldn’t tell if her brother was in bed or not. She knew she should go in, but she hesitated. The shuffling sound bothered her. She pulled the door shut again quietly and moved back up the hall to her room but bypassed it to go to her parent’s door. Trying the handle, she froze. They’d locked it. Why would they lock it? Then she thought about it. Ok eww, her parents were probably getting busy. She shook her head and went back to her room.

“Cope. What are you doing in here?” Her brother was standing by her window looking out into the moonlight, or he would have been if his eyes weren’t closed. His Thor pajamas were riding up at the ankle, and he swayed in place. Sleepwalking! She’d never seen anyone do that before. What did the books say? Stay out of the way. Let them find their way back, right? Or was it the opposite? She stood indecisively in the doorway as Copeland turned and walked back towards the door. Milla shrank back and let him pass, so he couldn’t touch her. Which was foolish. He was her brother, not some stranger. Not some monster. It took her a long time to fall back asleep. But only after she’d locked her door.

Her parents didn’t let them go to school the next day, or the day after. Their mom stayed home from work and made sure they didn’t go outside. Every night her mom cried after dinner and Cope wandered the halls after his bedtime. Milla knew because she’d always slept light. Now she locked her door.

“It’s still burning? Are they sure?” her mother’s voice said from her bedroom.

“They set a watch.”

“Is that safe?” her mother asked and Milla crept closer and stood silently outside her parent’s door listening. They were whispering, but the night was so quiet she could mostly hear them. Her father said something she couldn’t make out and Milla felt her heart pound in her chest. She didn’t like this. Any of it. It made little sense.

The next morning, the fourth after they’d seen the candle, their mom let them go outside. Copeland was bouncing off the walls in the apartment and her mother had cut herself while making their sandwiches. Milla had rushed to get her the first aid kit and placed it on the kitchen table. Her mother had waved them away and relented, telling them to go outside while she cleaned things up. Milla was glad to be outdoors. The sun felt brighter, the air smelled sweeter. Her chest opened up, and she tilted her head back to the early fall sunlight and spread her arms, turning in circles. Copeland played quietly with a stick.

“Get back inside!” Milla looked up and saw Miss Di Prato standing across the street.

“Hi Miss D!” Copeland called, and she waved at him, then shooed them both. “Stay there, go inside. Go!” she shouted, then turned and walked off faster than Milla had ever thought she’d see such an old person move. It was spooky. Just like the looks from the passersby. Were they looking at Copeland differently? Or her? She didn’t know, but her stomach twisted again and she closed her eyes. When she opened them, Copeland was standing next to her and looking at her with an odd expression on his face.

“Let’s go in Milla. Come on, let's go in.” He didn’t touch her, he just stood beside her until she nodded. She looked over at Copeland and down. A dead bird was on the ground. That’s what he’d been poking with his stick. She frowned and clenched her lips. No way would she tell their mom about this, but they definitely needed to go inside. They walked into the building and up the stairs.

“Are you guys ok?” her mother asked and Milla nodded but Copeland tilted his head and stared at their mom until she plastered a fake smile on her face and told them to go to their rooms.

“I want to watch tv!” Copeland said and her mother shushed him and waved him out of the room.

“You too Milla, don’t stand there. Go.” Milla nodded and went to her room, conscious of her mother’s eyes on her back. Watching them leave, waiting to move until they were both out of sight. Her mom’s cell phone rang and Milla paused halfway down the hallway to listen in. Everything was so weird. Why wouldn’t her parents tell her what was going on? It was something about that candle.

Something about that candle.

“Yes I know. We were wrong. But there’s only two more days. And then we will go. That will stop it, right?” Milla’s heart picked up speed. Two more days, until what? Was the candle still burning? Milla didn’t stay to listen to anything else. Obviously, by going into the woods and seeing it, they’d done something wrong. More wrong than just going some place they’d been told not to go.

The more she thought about it, the more she realized she needed to go find out. She needed to know what was going on, and her parents would not tell her. Copeland’s weird sleepwalking worried her. Something made him wander like their parents had been since they’d moved here.

Milla put on her darkest clothes and waited until she heard her parents pacing their bedroom. Opening her window, she climbed out and dropped the few feet to the ground, a mostly silent landing that didn’t disturb the azalea bush just beneath it. Keeping to the shadows, she moved as fast as she dared towards the woods. Just inside the tree line, she saw the first person. A tallish man she’d seen at the restaurant a few times. He had a flashlight and a big stick, no, a baseball bat. It was a bat. Milla stood still, staring at him. Why was he here? She made a wide circle around him and moved deeper into the woods.

She passed two more people as she walked and slipped by them too, careful to keep her steps quiet. After a while, she realized it wasn’t getting darker, it was getting lighter. Milla got to the line of trees just outside of the area where the cabin lay and frowned. The hole was different. Someone had filled it with wood and there were torches at odd intervals around it, as if waiting for something. To light the wood on fire? She didn’t know. Milla looked past the pit to the cabin. The candle stood in the window like a beacon and something moved in the dark by the stairs. Milla shoved her hand into her mouth to keep from making noise. Was that a person walking in the shadows by the cabin? Her stomach didn’t just clench, it rolled. Her body trembled and a fine sheen of sweat peppered her brow even though it was cool out. She realized that she actually didn’t want to know. Her parents had been right. She shouldn’t be here. Whatever that was, whatever was going on, didn’t concern her. Crawling backwards as quietly as possible, she retraced her steps to the edge of the woods.

Going back took more time, possibly because she was walking slowly to keep from making noise. She wasn’t sure what alerted her, but she stopped moving and listened. She heard grunts and the snapping of twigs. She was almost back to where she’d entered by the second man she’d seen standing sentry in the woods. Taking a few cautious steps forward, she peered around the tree and saw him struggling with someone. Their bodies were faintly lit by their fallen flashlights as they fought silently. Their faces contorted and their eyes were dark rimmed and vacant, despite the desperate battle they engaged in. Blood flowed from scratches and bites, and it rimmed their mouths, proving they were using their hands and teeth to score on their opponent. Milla backed away slowly, afraid to draw their attention, and circled back around towards the first man she’d seen. He was sitting on the ground tailor style, rocking silently in place. Hugging the bat like a teddy bear. There were fresh scratches around his eyes. The sight was too much. Milla turned and ran, not caring how much noise she made but wanting to get away, get back to her home and behind the locked door.

Milla didn’t relax until she’d reached her bedroom window and was preparing to climb back in. She reached for the ledge and looked inside, stopping in surprise. Copeland was standing by her bed. His eyes were open and dark rimmed while he swayed in place. He held something in his fist, but she couldn’t make it out. Milla removed her hand from the window ledge and sank down. What was going on? Must be the candle. He’d started this when they’d seen the candle. But why hadn’t she been affected? Shaking her head, she sat back against the wall of the apartment building, allowing the cool night air to calm her as her heart slowed. He would leave and then she could go back to her room. She would put a chair under the door and lock it. Wrapping her arms around her knees, she sat silently until the sound of a bird’s wings alerted her to the coming of morning. She’d fallen asleep there outside with her arms wrapped around her legs. Her body was stiff, but the night felt less heavy, the signal of the coming dawn.

Milla stood and looked in her room. The door was open and Copeland was nowhere to be seen. Still, she waited, looking around to make sure she couldn’t see him before climbing back in. Once inside, she looked under her bed and in her closet, shining her flashlight around the room to make sure nothing and no one waited. Then she locked the window and pushed her desk chair beneath her doorknob. With a heavy sigh, she undressed and climbed into bed, falling swiftly into sleep.

A moment later, her mother knocked on the door. Milla looked at her clock and realized she’d slept for hours. It was midafternoon.

“Milla, are you ok?” She stood and went to the door, carrying her chair back to the desk before opening it. Her mother stood in the hallway, swaying a bit. Her eyes were bloodshot as well as shadowed, and she hadn’t done her hair.

“I had a hard time falling asleep. I guess once I did, I just crashed. I didn’t mean to sleep so long,” she said and smiled. Her mother didn’t smile back. Her lips curled and Milla had the urge to step backward, out of reach.

“Sleep. You can sleep.” Her mother repeated it and shook her head, turning to walk down the hallway as if she’d forgotten Milla was there, that she existed. Copeland was sitting in a chair in the living room, his eyes were wide and vacant like the night before. The huge dark circles beneath them like bruises. His skin looked paler, as if he was sick. Shaken, she made herself a PB&J and took it back to her room, closing the door. She came out to the living room twice more. Her mother puttered around the house, jumping every time Milla came out of her bedroom and then smiling to take away the sting of her odd starts and silence. Copeland was still in the chair. He stayed there the whole day, not eating, not moving until Milla couldn’t stand it anymore. She had to do something. It felt like she should be able to do something since she was the one who agreed to take him to the woods to play. She walked over to him and took him by the shoulders, shaking him. It took a moment before it registered and then he screamed.

Milla scrambled back away from him, but it was too late. He screamed and screamed, the sound of it echoing in the stillness of their apartment and all she could think was her ears would break or bleed from the noise.

“Don’t let it get me!” he said over and over and Milla turned in circles, trying to see what he was seeing, but nothing was there. Her mother ran into the room and pulled him into her arms, but he didn’t stop. Milla put her hands over her ears and ran outside barefoot. The sun was setting, and she saw the men from the night before walking down the street and into the line of trees leading deeper into the woods.

“We need help, my brother won’t stop…” she said, but they didn’t respond and Milla saw Miss Di Prato walking quickly away from her store, all but running toward her house. She saw Milla but didn’t stop, turning her head and calling over her shoulder.

“Go inside Milla. There’s one more day. Just go inside Milla.” Milla stood and stared. Around her, the town settled into the unnatural stillness that marked nightfall. Was it like this in every small town? The utter stillness? Probably not. Hard to imagine any of them had cabins with candles, and moats filled with wood ready to light. To keep something out? Or keep something in. The men were guarding, right? Except they hadn’t been, really. They’d just been walking. Walking, fighting, standing, or sitting, but not talking. It was more like waiting. But for what? Milla went back into her house and closed the door, leaning against it. Her mother was yelling into her phone, her clothes stained and her eyes full of tears. Copeland wasn’t screaming anymore, he was laying sideways in the chair, sleeping with his head in what had to be an uncomfortable angle. Milla wanted her dad to come home. Wanted him to come and put them all in the car and drive away. Far from the woods and the candle and the people walking.

She went to her room and closed the door, locking and pushing the chair beneath the handle again in her fear, not noticing the stains she left on the doorknob and chair as she did so. She heard the low rumble of her father’s car engine and looked out the window absently wiping her wet hands on her clothing as she did, watching as he parked and got out. And walked away. Walked towards the woods. She frowned. What was it Miss Di Prato said? One more day? Maybe it was a promise and a warning. She just had to stay inside. Stay inside like she’d told them. Stay inside and remember for next time.

About the candle.

Four hours later Milla opened her eyes and looked around in surprise. She was lying on a cracked wood floor in a pile of dirt and leaves. A candle lit the space but outside the window a bright flickering light made shadows. She stood and realized where she was. The abandoned cabin. The door was still listing on its single hinge and a sound came to her. Rhythmic. Chanting? She didn’t know. She walked to the door and slipped outside. The wood filled moat burned. Outside the line of fire some of the town’s citizens stood saying words she couldn’t understand. Inside the line of fire several figures fought silently, and others lay on the ground. She looked down at her hands, saw blood and opened her mouth to scream but heard instead a voice cry out.

“This won’t stop me, It is still my time. The candle is lit.”