The Trapper's Cabin: An Alternate Ending

The cabin in the woods had been abandoned for years, but one night, a candle burned in the window. A young and disheveled man who had been crossing rough terrain decided to seek refuge in the unwelcoming abode.

He approached the decrepit grounds, taking note of the fresh animal carcasses hung about the property. Pelts had been left out to dry, and bleached bones adorned the decayed support beams of the cabin.

Perhaps the excessive hunting was to blame for the forests’ eerie silence. He crossed the rickety floorboards of the porch, and glanced through the window to find a curious man at his work bench.

The traveler froze for a moment, listening to the ripping of the pelt. Unable to see over the trapper’s shoulder, the young man continued for the door and knocked.

Silence.

Heavy footsteps resonated in the traveler’s ears. The door swung open to reveal an aged man with ungentlemanly features and wild eyes. His silver beard reached below his chest. Dried blood adhered to his grotesquely sinewy arms. His hand tightly grasped the handle of his hunting knife.

The light from the candle inadequately revealed the features of his visitor. What the trapper was certain of, was the unkempt state of the boy. He wiped the knife and placed it back into its sheath on his belt.

“Another lost traveler?” the trapper croaked.

The young man gave no response.

“It has been ages since I have seen another human face. Come in. I will enjoy your company.”, he said and ushered the traveler in.

The trapper lingered by the doorway to ensure there weren’t others nearby. Upon shutting the door, he turned to find the traveler in the middle of the room with his back facing him; a silhouette watching him, although he was unsure how.

The trapper seated his new visitor at a small table, and gathered wood for the fireplace. His scrawny figure was just a feeble shadow in the dark. A warm glow filled the cabin, and the traveler appeared human once more. His uncanny appearance struck a note of familiarity to the trapper. At a loss for an explanation, he headed for the kitchen area.

“You must be famished.” he said, “Allow me to heat up some food.”

Stew was presented to the young man. He stared at the bowl; his emotionless expression unchanging. The trapper sat directly across from him with a bowl of his own, and began devouring its contents. His visitor lacked an appetite.

“No need to feel obligated to eat, boy. Or speak. You must have been through quite the adventure.” the trapper said in between bites.

Nearing the end of his meal, he said “I don’t believe we have had a proper introduction. My name is Ezekiel.”

The traveler’s eyes slowly shifted to meet his.

Ezekiel pushed the conversation, “And you are?”

No answer.

A hint of frustration crossed Ezekiel’s face. He rose from his seat and grabbed both bowls. A rancid stench filled Ezekiel’s nostrils. The traveler’s food appeared rotted. He immediately disposed of the meal outside. The trapper strode to the far corner of the room drenched in blackness.

“Do you smoke?” he called over his shoulders.

His visitor remained still. The trapper muttered under his breath. A moment passed, and Ezekiel returned with a cigar pipe. He placed himself in a nearby rocking chair, and lit the pipe. The trapper indulged in the nicotine release.

Silence.

“What brings you here, boy?” the trapper questioned.

“I seek refuge.” he answered in a delicate tone.

Ezekiel failed to hide his surprised look, “So. You do speak.”

The traveler replied, “I have been wandering these woods.” his voice quietened.

“And exactly for how long?” he asked, puffing on his pipe.

The young man stared upon the flickering of the flame.

Ezekiel kept a watchful eye on the traveler. Tattered clothes draped the boy’s body. His boots were muddied from his travels. The trapper’s gaze was fixated on his fair complexion.

He broke the silence, “No name? No one traveling with you. No one looking for you. You’re as good as dead, boy.”

Swirls of smoke hid the traveler’s features. A small glint of light from his eyes showed through the toxic mist. Ezekiel shifted the conversation in hopes of receiving a more human response.

“You know how long I have been in this line of work, boy?” he said, then let out a chuckle, “I cannot count the years.”

He paused, taking note of the traveler’s lack of interest.

“I hold pride in my work.” Ezekiel continued, “There’s not many who can say the same. Then again. Not many are cut out for this line of work. It takes a good eye to do what I do. For hunting, one needs a good eye. Always select a healthy host.” The trapper’s tone chilled the air.

Silence.

Ezekiel left his seat. He headed for the door with a lantern in hand, then motioned for the traveler to follow. The lantern creaked in the steady wind.

“I can show you. A healthy host makes all the difference. Come. See my most prized items.”

The traveler stood from his chair and joined the trapper. Together, they plunged into darkness. The trapper led him to the side of the cabin, and opened the doors to a musty basement.

“Fear not, boy.” Ezekiel coaxed, “The beasts are dead. Their suffering was real, but worry not. Their death was not in vain.”

Ezekiel traveled down first, “You won’t find anything else like it.”

He disappeared. Another source of light shone from the basement, and the traveler ventured down. He reached the bottom to be greeted by the man with wild eyes who stood proudly by his works.

Silence.

The young man scoured the cramped basement, examining the wares.

“After countless years I have wandered these woods and mountains, searching for a beast that would prove a challenge to hunt. To skin.” Ezekiel spoke, walking closely with his visitor, “A pelt of a most forbidden nature.”

Carefully maneuvering amongst the boxes of pelts and bones, something familiar caught the traveler’s attention in a dim corner; skins of a most disturbing nature. Their peculiar characteristics beckoned the traveler to further assess them. His face darkened.

“And only once have I found a creature so beautiful…” the trapper trailed off, “I hung his pelt on my wall.”

“Yes.” the traveler said, “I recall.”

The trapper gave him a puzzled look.

He turned to face the trapper in the lantern’s light and continued, “The face of a student, a lonely traveler, can be rather forgetful.”

A look of horror crossed Ezekiel’s face, “The scholar from Ashbourne.”

The trapper attempted to flee in haste, but stumbled upon a wooden crate. His aggressor now towered over him.

“The suffering was real.” he whispered, his face rapidly deteriorating, “But worry not. Your death will not be in vain.”

Shrieks of terror echoed throughout the forest.

The sky was painted in wonderful shades of pink and gold. As beautiful as it was, the forest remained eerily still. The cabin's wasted frame silently held its awful secrets.