The Writing on The Wall

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

Well okay, okay let me start over since we have new listeners. When I was younger, many years ago, the highlight of the Summer used to be the annual family camp out. We would get together on some land that was your great Grandpa, and Grandma’s. In reality its land that had been in the family name since maybe even around Indian times.

It was perfect, the perfect balance of having a lake right there, and thick woods near by for us kids to explore in. The days would blur by in a whirlwind of swimming, and getting awkward suntans to match. Then later when the sun and moon would trade places we would go catching fireflies at night with the s'mores still dripping off our faces.

Anyways, my brother Randy and me used to get into all sorts of shit, er trouble as kids. With the amount of forts we built in the vastness of that forest I'd venture to say that if someone stumbled across them they may have thought it was a hobo camp.

So as the Summers went by Randy and I would venture deeper and deeper into the woods to play. The deeper you went the more primordial it was; like a piece of time and space left untouched. One year in said woods, Randy and I were playing war when we came across something unexpected.

At first glance we thought it was one of our old forts we built because they used to get pretty extravagant. It didn't take much of a closer look to see that beneath the overwhelming brush and shadows of the canopy, that it was a cabin. Not just one mind you, there were at least three or four that we found.

We were taken aback at the sight and the randomness of them. They were all pretty small, not much bigger than a camper, apart from the cabin in question. The one this story centers around. In contrast to the other cabins it stood much more imposing. It was a two story cabin long embraced by the vines and weeds of Mother Nature.

Below the main level you could see slits of windows, long ago broken and jagged declaring there also was a basement of some kind. Randy and I explored them all. All except for the big one. For some reason we couldn't bring ourselves to enter it. We played around the others without much thought, but that one.. I can only say it always felt like it was watching me, like the air around it was more static.

Anyways, during one of those yearly trips, matter fact I think it was 78. Randy, me, and cousin Ronnie were out playing about in the woods. Ronnie was older, thirteen-fourteen or so, I was ten, Randy nine. As we started getting near where the cabins were, we told Ronnie we knew a secret. So we led him to the cabins thinking it would boost our cool points.

‘Course Ronnie stuck up his little nose and acted as though he had known about the cabins the whole time. Being the little shit he was, he gets to throwin’ rocks at the cabins and what's left of their windows. So what were we supposed to do but join in with him.

I remember when I got to be standing in front of the big cabin, rock in my hand, I couldn't bring myself to throw it. I just stood there hypnotized sort of. It wasn't particularly freaky looking or anything, it was just your run of the mill cabin. At this point the chimney was being overrun by the vines as if the chimney and vines got into an eternal fight and the vines were slowly winning over the years.

What struck me most was the door. I guess it may have been covered by vegetation in years past, but the door looked very misplaced. I mean, you have this ancient dilapidated cabin with no companion but the elements, and then you have this door that was in perfect condition. It was as if someone had installed it that same day; and on that same day they decided to put a fresh coat of blood red paint on it.

So there I stood, for how long I'm not sure. I hardly even realized that Ronnie was there next to me calling me a pussy. Though he quickly changed his tune, “maybe it's a good idea we don't mess with that one. Especially with all that's happened in it.”

“What do you mean with all that's happened?”

Ronnie looked around nervously scrunching his face up at the cabin which exaggerated his freckles, “I mean with all the murders that happened in it.” Ronnie started to get real fidgety, “no, no I said too much already, lets go set one of the other ones on fire. C’mon!”

‘Course we called BS on that.

“BS Ronnie you're full of it.”

Little Randy came up now his buck teeth ever present and asked,“how's come we've never heard about any of this till now? And why haven't the adults warned us about any of this stuff then?”

And Ronnie right on the spot said, “'Cus beaver boy, the adults know that if they said anything we would go exploring them, or we’d be scared to come camping, spoiling their fun.”

Ronnie kept going on and on about all the bad things that happened there. I remember him saying that there was a coven of witches that lived there in the 1800's that went around murdering people; doing ritual sacrifices. And naturally they murdered little kids like us as well.

It Just seemed like he kept adding new things to it as we went about our way in the woods.

I had asked him too, “so why the hell does a retard like you know so much about it?”

Ronnie shoved me and said, “one night, when all the adults were drunk I heard them talking about it.”

“My dad was talking about it?”

“Yeah, beaver, even your dad was talking about it.”

My eyes didn't move from the door as I spoke, “nah man, we've been around these cabins like every year and haven't had anything happen. No witches, no murderers, no Charles Manson, nothin.”

Being the rat Ron was, he played the ultimate card. “Well, if you dipwads are sooo sure that it's not haunted why don't you go inside? I triple dog dare you.”

Frickin’, triple. Dog. Dare.

So bluffing I said, “well it's not even scary in the daytime, let's just come back in the night after we play flashlight tag or something.”

Ronnie liked that idea, Randy not so much. Ronnie agreed to the terms and I just figured he would forget about it with everything going on.

Boy was I wrong about that.

*************************************

The rest of the day came and went. Full of swimming, hot dogs, hamburgers, and probably an unhealthy bit of soda. As the sun began to peak from the horizon saying its farewells, the fires got busted out. The adults started drinking and we began roasting marshmallows. I had the marshmallow toasted perfectly and I was about to take it off my stick when I nearly dropped it into the fire.

“You ready to go to the cabin turd?”

I looked up across the fire to see the beady little eyes staring back at me, he had a sinister way about him. Lucky for me the fire was cracking otherwise he may have heard my gulp in response.

Without much delay off we went toward the wilderness. The dancing flames, and excited voices diminishing behind us as we walked. As those sounds faded, we became more and more enveloped into the dark embrace, and hum of the forest. The night was lit up from the glow of the moon, but where we were heading none of that mattered much.

After stumbling our way through the thickets and brush, we finally found the cabins. You could barely see the outlines of them without our flashlights. I swallowed spit inadvertently again at the sight of the smaller cabins. Even though we had played near them before in the dark, tonight felt different.

“Ready shit birds?” Ronnie chirped, Randy and I locked eyes, both kinda’ thinking, well shit we are here let's get this over with if we can.

We walked past the initial two smaller cabins coming around the corner to face the big one.

As we all walked in front of the cabin we were petrified in place at what we saw.

Illuminated in the glow of our flashlights I could see the faces of Randy, and Ron, though twisted in shadow sharing in my bewilderment.

There the cabin stood as it had for many years, waiting, but in the cracked basement windows there was a flicker of light. I could tell from the rhythmic movement of the light it was a candle burning. I'm sure we all were feeling the urge to turn tail and run but there was a gravity seemingly holding us in place, the cabin had an allure to it that beckoned us.

I remember I asked Ron when he found time to come out here and put this random candle in place. I put the flashlight to his face, he squinted, putting his hand up angrily.

“Piss off, I didn't do it. That's such a lame prank. Get that damn light out of my face.” We started bickering back and forth some, when finally he said “Okay, okay fine it was me I figured you girls could use a night light, now are you going to go in or what?”

Now when he said that Ronnie didn't seem to have the same bravado that he once had. Randy and I locked eyes, I knew he was scared, he knew I was scared.

“C'mon go in, we didn't come out here for nothin’ I triple dog dared you remember?”

Now in those times triple dog dare was kid law. So we were bound by honor to go into the cabin. So slowly but surely Randy and I make our way to the red door of the cabin. It glistened slightly in the sliver of moonlight, I raised my flashlight to it.

A loud creak made both Randy and me jump out of our britches.

That son of a bitch Ronnie was laughing away at that. We gingerly stepped up to the red door again. With my hand wrapping finger by finger around the faded bronze door knob I twisted and pulled.

I pulled, and the door did not budge.

“Oh, come on really? Do you need a MAN to help?”

“Shut up Ron.” Randy squeaked.

Just as I was cursing the door, mid sentence as I yanked, and the door finally burst open.

WHOOOSH

A gust of air expelled from the cabin, it was as if it had taken a breath so many years ago and now finally exhaled.

Again Randy and I found ourselves stepping back in pause. “What the heck was that about?”

Randy shook his head, so at this point I was like screw this and walked away from it.

“Why don't you go in there since you're so tough?”

Ron's worm like lips coiled together, “I already was in it ALONE matter fact, when I put the candle in there.”

“Yeah right!”

“Whatever, you guys aren't following through with a triple dog dare, so that means I kick your asses and so-”

“How long?”

Ronnie stopped, and both him and I looked in shock at little beaver boy himself. We blinded him by accident with our flashlights.

“You’ll, you'll do it?”

“Yeah, how long?”

Ronnie sneered, “survive five minutes.”

Randy matter of factly responded “Okay,” and walked into the cabin.

Ronnie and me were sort of dumbfounded, but nonetheless started keeping time shortly after Randy went in.

With each minute that passed it felt like more weight was added to my back anchoring me down into the moist grass. Of course there was also the shame I felt that my younger brother had went into this murder cabin alone, and here I was outside pacing, and jumping at every sound. Seeing a spectre in every shadow. I figure being that he was the younger brother he wanted to prove himself and shut Ronnie up.

“Would you stop frickin’ pacing?”

Finally, shortly after I stopped pacing Ronnie and I deduced it had been five minutes; it probably wasn't exact.

We both hollered into the cabin for him. Not even crickets answered us. Ronnie shifted uncomfortably.

I yelled, “C’mon Randy! You've proved yourself, come on out!” Still no response.

After a beat of silence, Ronnie said “He’s prolly just fucking with us.”

So I walked up to the open door, before entering I billowed in, “C'mon Randy I don't wanna come in this stinky cabin.”

No answer to my call.

I looked back at Ronnie who just shrugged, “He's your brother.”

Finally I heard something, “Owen,” he called out.

“Randy, comeeee onnnnn. Let's go!”

“Owen.” He responded again quietly.

I grunted, and sighed up to the night sky in annoyance. Taking a step into the cabin I muttered out, “I'm gonna kick your butt when I find you.”

Upon entering I was smacked in the face by the overwhelming smells of mildew, basement, and probably some raccoon shit. I moved my light around where I just entered.

There was a simple kitchen with a collapsed chair, and a table that was covered in what looked like crumbs from the ceiling. To the right of that was the living room, which held a stone fireplace, and sofas that looked almost as mossy as the outside did.”

“Owen.”

I flashed my light around more, in the living room corner there was an entrance to another space.

“Owen.” Randy called out again, it was the same volume and cadence as every time before.

“Randy! Where the hell are you?” I rasped.

His voice sounded so far away but at the same time as if he were in the next room over.

I went further into the living room, there also were stairs leading to the second story.

“Owen.”

My frustration grew as I deduced that his calls were coming from the next space over from the living room.

Upon coming to that entrance, I found that there were wooden stairs leading down. Down to the basement.

“Owen.”

“Randy, please get your ass up here.”

“Owen.”

I gulped before whispering down. “Ughh you're going to regret this.” Slowly I eased my way down the stairs, which almost made me fall because they were at uneven heights. I went between pointing my light at my feet, and then in front of my face, guiding me. The only noise was my shuffling feet on the groaning steps as I made my descent; that and dripping coming from somewhere in the void.

I landed on the dirt floor of the basement. It appeared much more expansive than I thought it would be.

I couldn't help but feel the need to whisper. “Randy, where the hell is your flashlight?”

“Owen.” He answered calmly.

From the darkness I emerged into what must've been a hallway of some kind. I could see on the walls there was a playful flickering of light. So I figured he must've been by the candle light for some reason.

I entered the smaller room, the candle sat about ten feet away on a circular table from the old world. Although the room was partially illuminated, I still did not see Randy.

I scanned the room looking for another door or anything in the darkness.

When all of a sudden my flashlight started flickering. “Oh come on, come onnn.” I whacked it a few times and wouldn't ya know it, it went completely dead. “Of course.”

Now the only light was the ever shifting flame of the candle.

“Randy, come the heck on! I can't see crap in here.”

Just then, the flame of the candle became distorted, something was in front of the candle blocking it.

Timidly I muttered, “Ra-Randy?”

As my eyes adjusted to the light, I began to see that the shadow blocking the burn of the candle was much larger than Randy.

I stumbled backwards away from it, dropping my flashlight it rattled on the hard ground.

The candle was snuffed out completely. I now found myself in utter darkness.

I felt with my hands behind me for anything to guide me. I pleaded with the darkness, when my fingers connected with a moist, cold wall. Taking baby steps I felt my way towards the corner in which I came, preparing myself to book it to the stairs. My heart jumped in ecstatic joy as my hands slipped through an opening. I found the way out! Before I exited I heard a voice in the dark that was NOT Randy's.

“Owen.”

I screamed running with my hands in front of me blindly sprinting, lumbering up the stairs.

I came into the living room beginning to make my way towards the blood red door, when a shape out of the corner of my eyes made me jump from my skin. I slipped on a pile of leaves forcing me to stumble into the wall. I stabilized my hands up and ready to put up some sort of a fight. I looked down at the small shape.

There Randy sat on the floor, Indian style as if he had been there the entire time.

I remember being like, “Randy you've been here the whole time? Come on, let's go someones downstairs!”

Randy sat perfectly still unflinching. “What the hell's wrong with you? Did you hear me? Someones here.”

Randy unblinking, gazed at the wall, slowly lifting his hand pointing at it.

I followed the beam of his flashlight to the spot of the wall that captured his attention. The wall was sparsely covered with shredded wallpaper, but there written in the same blood red paint as the door was a name.

RANDY.

I was covered in sweat, but goose pimples prickled my entire body.

I noticed beneath his name in the tattered pieces of wallpaper there was another. I scratched away at it, my breathing labored. Piece by piece of the paper gave way.

OWEN.

I continued peeling beneath my name, as more letters began to take shape. “What the?”

R-O-N, I didn't need to finish to know what it spelled. I began to speak but the words felt trapped in my throat like sandpaper.

I heard a swishing movement that was not my own, and heavy creaking of the basement stairs. Each creak growing closer and closer.

They were coming up.

I snatched Randy by the arm with such force that I thought I may have pulled it from its socket.

We stormed outside past Ronnie, who looked at us in confusion, the smile fading from his face.

“RUN! SOMEONES IN THERE!”

“Wait, what?”

I did not stick around to explain, figuring Ronnie would catch on either way.

We made it back to the campsite, and after catching our breath we debriefed Ronnie.

Naturally he didn't believe a word of it, but he finally did admit that it wasn't him who lit the candle.

I asked Randy about what happened to him and what he saw, and oddly enough he didn't remember a thing; until he saw me come into the living room.

Both Randy and I shoved Ronnie. “You could've got us killed, you idiot!”

“Whatever man it was probably uncle Christian.” Uncle Christian was one of the younger uncles of the family and had a bit of a reputation of being a prankster so it wasn’t outside the realm of possibility.

“There he is! Let's ask him.” I yelled.

He had two beer bottles in his hands, his long Bret Michael's-esk hair blowing in the night breeze.

We all went clamoring up to him, everyone taking turns explaining what had happened, with the cabin, the basement, and the names written underneath the wall paper..

He looked at us as if we were mental, “Woah, woah, woah what the hell are you guys talking about?”

“The cabin! Was it you in the cabin?”

He took a long pull from one of his beers, “No, I haven't left the campsite the entire night.” He started going toward the docks, but before he did he turned back to Ronnie with an accusatory tone, “Ron were you in my stash again? Jeez, there's never been any cabins on this land. Never.”

He walked on the deck before plunging into the lake waters for a night swim.

We all took a seat around the campfire letting his words sink in. As we all sit around the campfire now, letting his words sink in.

I don't know who that was, or why our names were on that cabin wall. All I know is that after that Summer we were never able to find the cabins again.