My family owns a cabin in the woods in Surrey, which is just south of London in England. They bought it when I was four. My parents loved going there. After a while, the teenager in me got bored of it, so I stopped coming with them. My dad died recently. I loved him dearly. My parents divorced shortly after I left for uni. I haven’t spoken to my mum in a long time. One time I was on my own, and a sudden memory popped into my head.
We were walking to the pub nearby. There was one of those old brown wooden bus stops. In it was a picture of 2 kids, captioned “MISSING”. I didn’t get close enough to get a good look it. My dad, without warning, walked over and ripped it from its staples and shoved it in a nearby bin. I was only 7 at the time, so I didn’t think anything of it.
But after I remembered, I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I drove down there a couple weeks ago. I just wanted to have a look and even if there was nothing, I would just say goodbye to it. When I arrived, though, I was surprised to see that the cabin was gone, all that was left was a couple charred posts. I could smell something rancid, under the smell of woodsmoke.
“What are you doing here?” I nearly jumped out of my skin. An old man leered at me. “Oh. I.. uh.. my parents used to own this place.. or what’s left of it. My dad died recently and I thought I should-“
Before I had time to finish my sentence, the old man grunted and barged past me. “You should leave.” he growled. “Before you find anything you don’t want to.”
“Weirdo..” I muttered under my breath. I had a look at the ruins. They looked like they’d burned recently, but most of the people who owned these places had died or moved away, so it was probably just some gas that was left on or something. There wasn’t room for rural living in the world of big cities anymore. I was about to leave, when I felt something deep within me, telling me to look behind, in the woods behind the cabin. I trudged around the ruins and into the forest.
The rancid smell got worse the further into the woods I got. I would find the truth about my dad, or I would die trying. I followed it further. I don’t know why.
I should’ve turned back.
When I found them, I literally retched from the smell. There were at least 2 dozen of them, burned, mutilated corpses, hanging from the branches on nooses. There was no noticeable pattern. They were young, old, all races, men and women. All of them still had their clothes on. Some of them looked like they had been killed recently, some looked decades old.
“I told you you should’ve left.” growled a voice behind me. I whipped round. The old man was brandishing a shovel, a twisted sneer on his face. “Me and your old man, we were quite the pair.” I looked at him, horrified. “My father.. did this?” I said. A single tear rolled down my cheek. He chuckled. “We got away with all of this. No one would expect two middle class mugs living in this expensive poverty shithole to be mass murderers.” He gripped the shovel with both hands. “I’m getting old, but I still have time for one more kill. I always hated you.” He swung it at me with surprising force. I ducked and white hot anger boiled through my veins. I charged at the old man, but he dodged out of the way. I was momentarily stunned by his athleticism. He thrusted the shovel towards me like a spear. I grabbed the sides and he kicked my knee, knocking me down. I felt the blade of the shovel digging into my hands, cutting me. I gritted my teeth. The old man grinned sadistically. “Lights out, kid. Say hi to your dad from me.” I closed my eyes and turned away, awaiting my death, but it never came. I heard two impossibly loud bangs. I opened my eyes. My mother was standing over the corpse of the old man, now a bloody mess. She was clutching a smoothbore shotgun. “Way for a family reunion, huh?” She said through a strained smile.
Later, in the car, I asked her. “Did you know?” She looked down. “I.. I didn’t just know. I helped him. He did the dirty work and I covered over his tracks. One day, I told him I wanted to stop. He..” She choked on her words. I rubbed her back. “It’s okay mum. I’m here.” She mustered up the strength to continue. “He took a knife, and he tried to kill me. I pushed him and he slipped and hit his head on the kitchen counter. I didn’t check to see if he was alive. I just got in the car and drove away.”
Soon after, my mother confessed, and turned herself in. She got 9 years in prison for being an accomplice to a crime and second degree murder. I can’t stop thinking about that day. I went to therapy, and I tried to drown it with alcohol, but it’s forever ingrained into my mind.
I still feel sick when I smell woodsmoke.