The cabin was still and silent, as
if the walls were absorbing every disturbance of the outside world. Every bird’s
song was abruptly cut off the instant she closed the door. Something was not
right. She could not place it, but the air was uneasy here. She called out from
the foyer, but the words sounded wrong. She heard them only from inside her
head rather than by her ears. There was no reply. She wasn’t sure if anyone else
even could have heard her.
She stepped hesitantly from the doorway
into the main room of the cabin. The room was empty save for a table set for
one and an old rocking chair in the corner. Daylight shone in from the two side
windows, but it did little to ease her mind. She had been here many times and
had so many wonderful memories of the place. But now, that all seemed so long
ago.
She walked over to the window and looked
out at the forest. As she did, the scent of wildflowers suddenly caught her
attention. She looked down and remembered the freshly picked bouquet that was
still clutched in her left hand. She never could resist the inviting aroma of posy.
But still as she thinks back to how pure her intentions had been, a nagging
feeling of guilt came over her. After all, she had given her word and had
broken her promise.
She turned away from the window and shook
the thought from her head. The flowers were a thoughtful gift. And besides, the
bottle she had been carrying lay still unbroken in her knapsack. Everything turned
out okay, and there was nothing she needed to feel guilty about.
She proceeded to the bedroom door and
gently pushed it open. In contrast to the front room, the bedroom was quite dark.
The curtains had been drawn over the window, and the only light in the room now
spilled in from behind her as she opened the door. She looked over to the bed,
and that feeling of unease again came over her. The figure beneath the blanket
was not at all what she remembered. The room was dim, of course, but it was
more than that. There was something definitely wrong here. The eyes that gazed
back at her were wide and bulging, the ears were misshapen, and the mouth was
crooked with the most sinister expression she had ever seen. She didn’t just
feel uneasy now, this was sheer terror. Every instinct was telling her to run;
to turn away and never look back. But she did not move.
“You are being ridiculous,” she thought. “I
came all this way to help her. She’s very ill, of course she is not going to
look quite herself.” She inhaled, paused, and let out a slow breath. After a
moment, she finally managed to make herself step into the room. She brought out
the bottle from her sack and approached the bed. As she did, she noticed
something. Something familiar in that face, but what was it? “Where have I seen
that look before?” She thought.
As she came in closer, a smile crept over the
face, then all at once, it hit her. She knew where she had seen that smile
before. The one she saw earlier that day in the woods. The one she had greeted
and talked to on the walk here. The one that told her she should take some time
to stop and smell the flowers now and then.
That evening, a man was walking along the forest
path, when he came upon the cabin. He knew the old lady that lived there and
had heard she was ill. “I will stop in and see if she needs anything,” the man
thought to himself. As he came to the front door, he found it wide open. “Strange,”
he said. “I hope nothing is the matter.” He entered the cabin and peered into the
bedroom. “Oh my,” he breathed, aghast at the horrendous sight. The old lady was
nowhere to be found, but her nightgown lay bloodstained upon the bed. On the
floor beside the bed was a shattered bottle, a bundle of flowers, and a red
cloak.
-AMS
