The Long Weekend in the Woods

“The cabin in the woods had been abandoned for years, but one night, a candle burned in the window.”

The Scout leader began the story in a hushed voice. Around the campfire, a dozen Scouts sat hunched on wooden benches in a wide circle. Some roasted marshmallows with sticks from the surrounding forest. Others cracked jokes and jostled quietly with one another. A few gazed into the coals of the lively fire with vacant eyes, tired from a day in the woods and on the water.

One of the Scouts who sat, a bookish boy named Jimmy, roasted a marshmallow with careful consideration. He held it at arm’s length from the furnace-like heat of the burning coals. The Scout to his right quipped, “Psh, I bet you it’s another stupid story about that cabin across the lake.”

“Shut up, we’re going to get rained out anyway,” said another. “A storm’s coming.”

Undeterred, the Scout leader continued. He spoke in an eerie tone that the Scouts knew well from ghost stories of summers past.

“The burning candle caught the attention of a hunter who had a house on the other side of the lake. He found it peculiar that a light appeared in the cabin, which nobody had occupied in years. The next night, when darkness fell, a candle burned in the window once more.”

One by one, the Scouts turned their attention to the leader. The chatter subsided, and silence descended. Only the crackling of the fire and the rushing wind through the towering hardwoods accompanied his narration.

“The hunter watched for signs of life for three days. He looked through binoculars and took his boat across the lake to see if anyone was around. He saw no one enter or leave the cabin, but each evening, the lone candle burned in the window.”

The Scout leader was a young man in his mid-20s. He had spent his youth in the same troop and rejoined as a leader the previous fall. For the long weekend’s excursion in a nearby state forest, which the troop did each year, he was the only adult.

“On the third night, the hunter’s curiosity got the best of him. He hiked the four miles to the other side of the lake, carrying only a flashlight and a loaded revolver. When he got within a few hundred yards of the cabin, he turned off the flashlight and started approaching. The light of the moon guided his path along the lakeshore.”

Jimmy imagined himself as the heroic hunter, venturing off in the dead of night to investigate a spooky cabin in the woods. He’d wear full camouflage and carry a sidearm with silver-tipped bullets.

He looked up at the Scout leader. The yellow flames of the fire glowed on the man’s face, casting stark shadows that bled into the darkness of the woods behind him.

“As the hunter crept up to the window, he began to hear soft music from a piano and a dull sound like a thump.” The Scout leader stomped one foot on the dirt. Thump, thump, thump.

“The closer he got to the window, the louder the thump became.”

Thump, thump, thump.

“The hunter saw how bright the candle burned in its holder. Still, the thump grew louder.”

Thump, thump, thump.

A marshmallow burst into flames above the fire. The Scout holding the stick jerked away with surprise, prompting another to throw an errant elbow. Meanwhile, Jimmy felt the first hollow feeling take hold of his legs. He looked around at the other Scouts; all were transfixed on the leader’s story. Jimmy gulped as calmly as possible and gripped the marshmallow stick in his hand.

The Scout leader leaned into the fire circle, his mouth drawing into a subtle yet unnerving smile.

“By now, the hunter had his hand on the revolver. As he edged nearer to the window, the thump seemed to become faster and faster. At the same time, the piano’s strange melodies floated from somewhere just beyond the window.”

The blazing fire illuminated the Scout leader’s large, dark eyes like a pair of lanterns in the night.

“The hunter got close, just close enough to see the layers of dust and cobwebs on the candle holder. Leaning forward, he peered through the tall window and saw…”

None of the Scouts moved an inch -- all eyes were upon his. The Scout leader’s smile grew wider and more deranged.

“He saw…”

Out of the corner of Jimmy's eye, a tall figure wearing a mask appeared at the edge of the fire’s light. Before Jimmy could say anything, the Scout leader leaped up and screamed, “HOOOJAHMENUHMENYAH!”

The Scouts nearest to him erupted from their seats, sending their marshmallow sticks high into the air. The rest moved away from the leader as instinct dictated. Some shrank into the wooden bench in a feeble attempt to cower. Others recoiled like the kick of a firing gun. All would have jumped out of their skins if such a physical act was possible.

After the initial shriek, Jimmy’s body melted into the dirt and his hands clutched his face. A long moment seemed to pass -- in reality, a few seconds -- when a loud cackling allowed him to peek above his knees.

The Scout leader spoke between breathless laughter. “You should’ve seen-- the looks on your faces--”

Relief washed over Jimmy, but also a vague sense of anger. Why scare a bunch of boys like that? And who stood by the edge of the fire? He felt a shiver run down his spine as the masked figure’s tall frame loomed over the fire circle.

“Who is he?” Jimmy asked shakily.

The Scout leader wiped a tear from his cheek. “That’s my buddy, Ryan.” He laughed again. “He and I were in this troop around the same time.”

Jimmy looked at the other Scouts. None seemed to notice the figure’s presence. “Why isn’t he talking?” he asked the leader.

“Oh, he likes to remain in character.”

An awful and unknown sense of fear swelled within Jimmy as he studied the figure. The mask on its head was large and theatrical yet strangely menacing: it resembled a cross between a lion, a dragon, and a deformed man. The mask’s permanent snarl reflected the firelight in a way that made him supremely uncomfortable.

He was about to stand up when the Scout to his right snorted.

“Hey, Jimmy’s had a bit of an accident.” When another Scout leaned in to look, the boy jumped back with laughter.

“Jimmy’s wet himself!”

Sure enough, liquid pooled in the dusty earth beneath his body. One by one, the Scouts began to chuckle. The lingering fright that still pulsed through his body turned to utter embarrassment -- he wanted to dissolve into the ground like the piss beneath his legs.

The Scout leader made his way across the fire circle.

“Come now, boys. These things happen sometimes.” He hoisted Jimmy and his dampened shorts up from the earth, inspecting the damp spot around his crotch.

“Go down to the lake with Ryan. He’ll get you cleaned up.”

Jimmy gaped at the figure. He wanted to wash and change into new clothes, but not with a masked stranger.

“Can’t I go with you?”

The Scout leader shook his head.

“I’ve got to keep an eye on the fire. Plus, the boys have to come up with a better ghost story than mine.” When he saw the protest on Jimmy’s face, he nudged the young Scout toward the figure.

Jimmy couldn’t help but stare at the mask as he retrieved a fresh pair of clothes from his tent. Then, with a towel and a flashlight in hand, he followed the masked figure into the woods.

--

The woods were black under the canopy of night, and swarms of buzzing insects added extra discomfort to the affair. Jimmy trudged along the trail that led to the lake. Once there, he would rinse off his humiliation. He even forgot about the masked figure as his feet guided him down the path. Then, he remembered its presence further up the trail. Who was “Ryan,” exactly?

Before long, the hardwood forest gave way to rows of cedar and cottonwood trees. The moon's silver glow broke through the low tree line, casting an eerie light upon the woods. Up ahead, the lake’s black water rippled in the moonlight.

Jimmy readied himself to bathe when the figure turned to face him. It raised a hand toward the water.

“I’m getting ready to go in.” Jimmy surprised himself by speaking. But the figure continued to hold its hand aloft, the terrible eyes of its mask glaring at him in the faint moonlight. Jimmy’s own set of eyes followed the hand across the water, where he saw nothing for a while. Then, in an instant, he noticed it.

A lone flame, impossibly distant in the endless dark, so faint he at first confused it for a star, flickered in the great expanse of the night. But its origin was unmistakable: it came from the abandoned cabin on the other side of the lake.

Terror gripped Jimmy’s mind and body. He froze in place as the figure approached him. Just when the horrible expression of the mask filled his vision, he turned and sprinted down the trail, leaving his clothes, flashlight, and towel in the dust.

Jimmy ran faster than he thought possible, spurred on by pure adrenaline. But it made no difference; within seconds, a powerful grip seized the back of his shirt. The moonlight disappeared as a scream escaped his throat. Then, all went black.

--

The first thing Jimmy noticed when he came to was the cloth gag in his mouth. His eyelids crept open, heavy from a strange slumber, and his head throbbed. The dim flicker of a candle somewhere to his side projected shadows that diffused onto the walls of an unknown place. Before long, his eyes adjusted and he could see layers of dust and old cobwebs on the dilapidated walls. But when he tried to move from where he lay, his limbs were trapped. He squirmed and thrashed and screamed, but the muffled cries he made were silent. By the time he quieted down, he could hear the faint melody of a piano drifting from somewhere behind him.

Rain began to pound the roof, and the wind howled through the cracks in the walls. Jimmy had lifted his head just high enough from the entrapments to see lightning through a large window. A terrific flash illuminated nothing but trees amid the backdrop of darkness. He craned his neck to see if he could recognize anything at all.

His heart nearly stopped when the lightning flashed again, for a masked figure appeared in the window. This one’s garb was different -- it wore a flowing robe and a wooden mask with holes. The figure floated to the window, standing in the faint candlelight for a moment before disappearing from view. Jimmy screamed into his gag.

The next flash of lightning revealed another figure, and then another. A fourth emerged from the dark, wearing nothing but a cloth around its waist and an ancient-looking mask with faded colors and missing teeth. The mask had wide holes that revealed a pair of black eyes staring back at him.

A door creaked open and the wind blew inside the space. The candle that burned to his side danced in the sudden turbulence, its shadows contorting into disturbing shapes on the decrepit walls. Total fear flooded his being.

A loud and rhythmic thump sounded when the first hand touched his body, stripping him of his clothes. The last thing he saw before passing out from the pain -- an unimaginable pain -- was the continuous flash of lightning beyond the tall frame of the window.

--

Early the following day, the Scout leader walked down to the lake to look for Jimmy, but all he found was a flashlight in the mud. A broader search led to the entire troop combing the nearby woods, but to no avail. Jimmy had disappeared into thin air.

When the state police and conservation officer arrived with dogs and a dive team, they commenced an exhaustive hunt on land and in the water. One team searched outbuildings throughout the state forest, including the cabin across the lake, but found nothing. “No one’s been there in years,” a trooper reported.

A pair of officers helped the Scouts pack up and hike to the trailhead to meet their parents. A few of the adults hugged their sons close and held back tears. Some of the other parents chatted quietly about the missing boy. Jimmy’s parents were out of state for the long weekend, and nobody from the task force could reach them.

At the trailhead, a police captain pulled the Scout leader aside to talk to him, then with the Scouts. Each boy repeated what the Scout leader had said: That Jimmy insisted on going to the lake alone and never returned. The officer asked if the boys saw anything out of the ordinary, such as a stranger or an unknown vehicle. Each boy shook his head and said, “no.”

When dusk fell and the officers returned to their vehicles, one stopped by a squad SUV to speak with the Scout leader. He was a tall man with robust features and a bald head underneath his cap.

“You were a part of this troop about 15 years ago, right?”

“That’s right,” replied the Scout leader.

“Wasn’t there a boy who disappeared around that time?”

The Scout leader blinked and said, “Yes. A kid a year younger than me.”

The officer pushed his tongue to the wall of his mouth, clenching his teeth in thought. “I remember reading that in the paper when I came back from overseas.” He looked into the woods and shook his head. “What was the boy’s name?”

“Ryan,” said the Scout leader.

“Ryan…” repeated the officer. “Wasn’t there something off about him? Like he kept voodoo dolls in his closet?”

“No, he didn’t do that. But looking back, he was antisocial and strange. There were whispers that he was abused at home. He kept to himself and scribbled stories that were incredibly grim, some of which I read by the light of the fire. They’d start simply enough and end in such violence.” The Scout leader bit his lip. “He called them ‘ghost stories for the sick and twisted.’”

“Sick and twisted.” The officer spat into the dirt. “Do you remember any?”

“Sure.” The Scout leader thought for a moment. “I remember one featured a ghost that split its spirit into multiple bodies and wore bizarre costumes. Ryan used to say it was the ghost of a settler who moved to the area long ago -- a backwater type who abused kids. The settler preyed on children until a hunter came across him with a little boy in the woods. The hunter freed the boy, then shot and killed the settler inside his own cabin.” The Scout leader shrugged. “Shit like that.”

The officer shook his head again. “Jesus. How did that one start?”

“Why’s it matter?”

“Just curious.”

The Scout leader turned his head and gazed into the woods. The officer didn’t notice the gentle tuck of his head or the slight grin that crept up from the corners of his mouth.

“The cabin in the woods had been abandoned for years,” he whispered. “But one night, a candle burned in the window.”

Happy hauntings.