The Vanishing

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

In my field of work, I attempt to document and study the causes of the world’s strangest phenomena. There is a case in particular that has caught my attention, known to locals as the Vanish of Woodstock. The press has reported that in broad daylight on an otherwise normal, yet brutally cold, January day, the people of Woodstock, Illinois walked out of their cars, their homes, their jobs, and simply walked as far as their legs could take them. There were no lights, no warnings, no announcement, not a single plan was put in place for this kind of mass exodus. I feel I have no choice but to learn the cause, as the police seem to have given up and ruled it as nothing of importance, but there is something off about this case, I can feel it.

When I arrive at Rockstead Mill, where detective Mark Albright asked to meet, I am greeted with the smell of ash, coal, and steel. However, there is also another unusual smell that I couldn’t quite name, it is almost like sulfur and burnt red meat. It’s a frigid Friday night, possibly the worst winter that the Midwest has to offer.

Mark looks at me with a blank stare, “Hello, detective. I hope you like small towns, because this one here is the worst ghost town I have ever seen, it’s as if no one has ever lived here at all. I arrived last week and I didn’t receive so much as a nod from a passerby. I’ve seen a few locals still here, but they all freeze at the sight of me”, he says without expression in his voice.

“Well”, I replied, “We should waste no time on our investigation then. Where did you see these locals?”

“On main and hubris, by the radio tower. There are a few just sitting there as if they are waiting for something. It’s all really strange”.

We leave in his white Ford and travel down the road until suddenly we are blockaded by a flood of empty cars. We are left with no option except to leave his car behind and make the rest of the trip on foot.

Upon arriving at the tower, we see a man staring into an empty field like statues, we say nothing to him for the first ten minutes, we just observe his behavior.

The inside of the homes are pitch black without even candle light and there are abandoned fruit carts littered with rotten fruit and again, that sulfur smell. There are only two faint sounds that can be made out: the sound of howling wind and a faint incessant scratching. There is no wildlife, yet there are visible tracks of a large animal in the snow.

“That’s odd” Mark says, “There were three of them earlier.”

I look at Albright with an unease, “How long has he sat there like that?“

Mark sighs. “He haven’t moved since I got here. It’s like he isn’t even alive anymore, no food, no water, no sleep, but I can see him breathing”.

“I have to ask him what happened, I have to at least try to get some answers”.

Albright looks at me and says, “Worth a shot, but I haven’t gotten him to say a word to me”.

I slowly walk towards the statuesque man who is facing the wall with caution, “Excuse me sir, I am a detective looking into the disappearance of the locals, could I ask you a few questions about what happened?”. Nothing. “Is everything okay? Can you tell me what happened on January seventh?”, I ask again. No reply.

The man finally turns to me with eyes completely devoid of life, almost as if something had taken it from him. I can’t believe these eyes belong to a man who is still alive, they’re like an ocean of blackness.

“Ah, you bear His mark”, the corpse-like man replied, “The mark of the seeker of knowledge like the rest of us. Don’t worry, you’ll soon join us all”.

My heart starts racing, I feel sweat run down my face as I look at this man with the black eyes and try to keep my composure. The man smiles broadly and begins to laugh.

I manage to force out the words, “W..what are you talking about? What mark? Who?”. The man stops smiling and emotionlessly says, “Keep looking for knowledge and you will find Him and He will grant you his gift as well”.

I feel a sharp pain down my neck that causes me to cringe in shock and turn away. “What are you saying to me?! This isn’t funny! I need answers!”, I shout. The man wasn’t there when I looked back up. All that was in front of me was a lake and the sound of faint wind replaced the words of the lifeless man.

I run. I run back towards Mark as fast as my legs could take me and shout to him, “WE NEED TO GO! THIS IS NOT SAFE!”.

“What are you talking about?”, he replies flustered, “What happened?”.

Frantically and out of breath, I explain the man’s eyes, the mark he was talking about, someone he wouldn’t name, but he just looks at me with his usual confused face and asks, “What man? No one was standing there. Are you okay?”.

My heart is about to jump out of my chest, “What are you talking about?! You brought me here to talk to him!”.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, you told me you came here to investigate and look for clues. Let’s just go get some rest, okay? It’s been a long travel for you”.

Now I’m getting frustrated, “I don’t want rest! I want to find out what the hell is going on in this damned city!”.

He says looking concerned, “We need to get rest, obviously you aren’t doing okay”.

“Fine, you don’t want to help me, I’ll do it myself. Go home, Mark.”

I walk the streets looking for any sign of life at all, but I find nothing for hours. The street smells different than the sulfur smell from when I first arrived, now it smells of something otherworldly, intoxicating almost, unlike anything I have ever smelled before. The howl of the wind is replaced by quiet and beautiful orchestral violins. If this city is empty, I must know what is causing that.

Finally, I see light coming from a lone cabin in the nearby woods, but it is not ordinary light, it’s a color I have never seen before. The color is coming from the flame of a singular candle. How is this possible? A new color, disappearing people, what the hell is going on in this city? I walk towards the cabin and the light. The music has gotten louder, the smell stronger, and the light blinding. I walk up the decrepit, creaking stairs and open the door.

Nothing. The cabin is completely barren, there is no light, no music, no smell, nothing. I feel my skin crawl and freeze. I know what I saw, how is it gone again?

“Who’s here?! Who’s doing this?!”, I shout into the nothingness. The door slams shut behind me. I shout, “What the...?! Show yourself!!” before opening the door again in a panic, and nothing.

I feel nothing, I see nothing, only darkness. There is no longer an outside, nor an inside. There is only cold, blackness surrounding me. Is this what death feels like or is this birth? Is this how it all ends or how it all began? I look behind me; I see the city before the vanishing, yet I cannot walk towards it, I can only look. They don’t see me nor the endless void in front of them. They don’t know what awaits Woodstock, but maybe if I walk the other way into the nothingness, I can see what awaits humanity. I walk towards the void and in a single step I see it. Withstanding all of the darkness and emptiness, there is that lone beautiful candle and it is the only thing that matters.