The Lost Children

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

Ted always tells this story. His listener tonight is a wisp of a girl that has been hanging around him the last few years.

Bea. That’s her name.

“What does it mean?” Bea asked him, eyes the size of saucers. The glow from their fireplace inside their little cabin casts a warm glow across their faces.

But the cabin in Ted’s story, that one sits just a few meters north of them. Deep in the woods, hidden from the town.

“It means the cabin is hungry.” Ted pitches his voice low, enough to send a shiver of fear through Bea.

“And what does the cabin eat?” Bea could be no more than 10 years old, evident by her tiny frame and how she pouts her trembling lips.

Ted looks at her, straining his eyes wide, “Little girls.” He whispers before attacking her with tickles. Her shriek quickly fades to laughter.

They stretch on the couch together, affection mirrored in their eyes. Their bond, though formed quick, is something to be envious of. Bea had been wandering the town alone, begging for scraps of food. When Ted found out she had no parents, he offered to take her in. He’s always had a soft spot for the lost children. “I’m glad you became my dad.” Bea tells him as much.

Ted gives her a warm smile, excusing himself to get started on dinner. Bea requested grilled cheese and soup. “Can I play outside while you cook?” She asks him.

“Yes, but you know the rules. Stay where I can see you.” Ted tells her before disappearing to the kitchen.

Bea jumps up and slides her sneakers on. Even though ted told her to stay close, she knows she won’t get in trouble if she ventures. She won’t go far, just enough to get a peek at the cabin. She wants to know if it’s hungry and who can blame her?

Dead leaves crunch under her small feet, autumn has been settling in for a couple of weeks now. She knows where the cabin is, she’s been there before. Bracing her tiny hands on the dense trees for leverage, she begins trekking toward the cabin. She’s been here long enough that she no longer trips on the stray branches and foliage on the ground. And despite her young age, she is smart and fast.

She stays hidden behind a tree as she approaches the cabin. Peering around the tree, she gasps. There is indeed a candle lit in the window. For a moment she can’t move, almost like the candle has captured her in a trance.

“Bea…” It was so faint, she almost didn’t hear it. As if a string is connected to her chest, she begins to walk toward the cabin door. “Bea…” She can hear it better now. The door is just in front of her and it’s wide open. She’s curious who is calling her. Almost compelled, she enters the cabin. Even though it’s not nightfall just yet, the cabin is dark save for the glow from the candle.

Bea gulps before she whispers on a shaky breath, “Is someone here?” She waits but hears nothing, so she keeps walking. Further into the cabin she can hear scurries from tiny woodland animals, but she carries on. And even though she puts on a brave face, her heart is beating wildly. Something crunches under her feet, but she’s too afraid to look down.

She can see shapes on the far wall and even if she wanted to stop and turn back, she couldn’t. It’s as if the cabin wants her to see what is there. The candle flame seems to grow, allowing enough light to reach the wall. Just enough for Bea to see what is tacked there. Clippings. From flyers and newspapers. She squints her eyes and realizes they’re missing children. The whole wall is full of them. Her eye catches on one toward the center. It’s her.

She wants to move, but she can’t. She’s stuck, paralyzed by fear, she isn’t sure. All she can think is that the cabin must have eaten all of these children and now it has led her to her death. She isn’t ready to die. She’s barely lived yet.

A breeze ruffles the papers on the wall and something snaps to her left. With wide eyes, Bea turns her head. She sees nothing until she settles her gaze on the floor. To her horror, she realizes there are bones everywhere. Awfully small bones. They cover almost all of the floor. The breeze picks up, glass jars lining shelves along the tops of the walls begin shattering. Bea falls, a scream leaving her throat as she covers her head. Without even realizing it, she has started crying.

Ted barrels into the cabin yelling, “Bea! Bea!” He cannot see very far ahead but he can hear her crying.

“The cabin is trying to eat me!” Bea wails at him, wrapping her arms around his legs. He crouches down, grabbing her upper arms in a bruising grip.

“Did you light that candle?” He shakes her.

“No!” She sniffles. “I just wanted to see, but it was already lit. I tried to run away, but the cabin tricked me! I swear!” She begs him to believe her.

A giddy excitement starts to thrum through Ted. “You must be the one!” He shoves her roughly to the floor. Bea can feel the bones crush under her as she falls the floor. Her hand lands on something soft. “Years. I have been sacrificing children for years and the cabin has finally answered me!!” Ted speaks quickly, his words hard to tell apart.

“I don’t understand.” Bea cries.

“They say the cabin will grant you a wish, any wish. As long as your offering is substantial. You must be the chosen one.” His face is twisted, no longer the gentle man Bea thought would care for her forever. The tears spill down her cheeks faster than they ever have.

“But, I thought you loved me. I thought we were family.” She sniffles, scooting further away from him.

“Don’t be ridiculous. You’re a lost child. Someone nobody would miss.” Ted is pacing back and forth, mumbling to himself. Bea hugs her knees to her chest, noticing what her hand landed on earlier. A small stuffed bunny. She tucks it into her chest.

“Are you going to kill me?” She asks Ted in between her sniffles.

“Of course not. The cabin will do that. I will just leave you here.” Ted begins to approach her, why she is not sure. She tries to scoot away, but she just pushes herself further into the wall.

The wind begins to howl, the flame blows out, and the cabin door slams shut. Sealing Bea and Ted in total darkness. Bea can hear Ted stumble and trip. “What is happening? This isn’t supposed to happen?” Ted mumbles.

With Bea’s head tucked into her chest and knees, hands covering her ears, she doesn’t see me approach. But Ted does.

It is with great satisfaction that I watch him turn pale at the sight of me. With great satisfaction that I force him to experience the starvation, the loneliness, the loss of sanity. And it is with great satisfaction that I force him to pick up a piece of glass and slit his own throat. For all that he put me through. All of us through. The lost children.

The door opens. Bea lifts her head, looking around with confusion. With strength beyond a 10 year old, she stands and runs out the door, taking my bunny with her.

We will rest peacefully knowing the cabin will never be hungry again.