The Night The Woods Went Silent

The cabin in the woods had been abandoned for years, but one night, a candle burned in the window. The dull light casting out of the dusty and cobweb-filled window was enough to cause all life in the woods to just suddenly stop all the creatures in the wood, dead in their tracks.

The cabin had been abandoned before the incident. The incident happened on a night, much like this one, a long, long time ago. But until now, no one has been brave enough to whisper the tale of what happened to the eight guards who had gone to investigate the claims of an old hag living in the dilapidated cabin in the woods outside of town.

The cool nip of the breeze flowing through the trees in night’s summer air should have felt like a warning to all around that something grave was about to happen that night. The normally bustling woods had grown silent as the town guards trekked through the woods the only sounds came from the crack of the fire from their lit torches, and the machetes swinging through the crisp night air to clear away thorny vines and limbs from their path.

There was a woman in her twenties that could be seen through the cabin window, working on some embroidery in the pale orangey-yellow light cast from the candles around the cottage. One very dimly lit candle sat in the window, flame licking at the darkness threatening to spill in from outside. The sweet, herbal, smell of mulling spices in wine wafted through the cracks in the door.

As the guards approached the cabin, they could see that the woman continued to work needle through the fabric, humming as she stitched – completely unbothered by the sounds of their approach. The melody that sprang from her closed lips was soft and haunting.

One of the guards raised a closed fist to the door and rapped against the aged wood three times. Each rap echoed into the cabin loudly, making the inside sound much larger and emptier than the outside of the cabin would let on.

The woman continued to hum and stitch, the only sound other than the humming that could be heard at this point was the sound of boiling liquid, and the crackling of a fire.

The guard took a step off of the small cobbled stone step in front of the door and slowly made his way over to the window where the woman sat. He tapped on the window with a single nail against the warped glass pane.

Hands as pale as the silvery full moon above the guards outside continued to manipulate the fabric and thread in the orange light from the candles. The humming continued, but as the guard was looking in the window he couldn’t see the woman that was sitting there. It was as if the darkness from outside in the woods had swallowed all of her form except her two pale hands. Which appeared to look more and more like bone as the seconds passed.

The humming had stopped suddenly, but the hands continued to work. Stitching, and stitching, the thread formed intricate patterns in the cloth. The boney white hands continued to work.

Then from behind the guard who was peering into the window, there was a loud scream! He spun around on his heel to look behind him and saw nothing but the small clearing in the woods. He blinked. Then it was as if the woods had encroached further upon the cabin in that split second.

Within that split second, twisted and gnarled joints of branches in dead trees reached out to the guard. Almost as if the trees were trying to grab him. The once sweet smell of mulled wine cooking had turned to the putrid smell of rotting fruit. And suddenly all the guard could see was the small grassy area around the cabin engulfed in fire.

The guard spun back around to look in the window, and the hands were no longer there, the embroidery was cast on the floor, and looked as if it were eaten by moths over the course of a century. Dust and cobwebs filled the windows.

Suddenly, the guard felt two cold hands reaching around his ankles, and he was pulled down into nothing but a pure black void. There was a loud, high-pitched cackle that filled the night air, before turning into the sounds of tree frogs croaking, owls hooting, and crickets chirping. The gnarled and dead trees began to bubble with life once again, and the sun began to rise. All evidence showing that the field around the cabin had been on fire had disappeared, the only thing there being long green blades of grass growing damp in the morning dew. All the candles in the cabin sat as they had in the night, but not a single flame was burning, nor smoke arose from the wicks.

No one knows what became of the guards who went to visit the cabin, and no search parties were sent out to find them. The nearby, sleepy little town went about its day as normal, only small murmurs about the disappearance of those eight town guards the night before. Mothers warned their children to never step foot in the woods, or venture out to the cabin in the woods, but tonight had been the first night that someone hadn’t listened.

And now, the cabin in the woods that had been abandoned for years, but one night, a candle burned in the window. The dull light casting out of the dusty and cobweb-filled window was enough to cause all life in the woods to just suddenly stop all the creatures in the wood, dead in their tracks. The only sound that could be heard now was a cackle.

The end.