There is a small cabin in the woods outside my hometown. It belonged to a man named Henry Kowlett. He had lived there with his young son. He was a single father, his wife having died of a brain aneurysm three years after the birth of their son. By all accounts, he was decent, if understandably melancholic, man who deeply loved his son and still remained deeply loyal to his wife. He always made sure to leave a flower on her grave, every single morning. He never once deviated from this tradition.
On the 15th of September, 1877, Henry and his son disappeared from their cabin. A small group of townsfolk, perplexed by Henry’s absence, visited the cabin to check up on him and his son. They found the living room in disarray. Blood was soaked into the carpet, a window was broken, the table was overturned, and one of Henry’s rifles was found on the floor and had clearly been fired. Undoubtedly, a struggle had taken place.
A search party was swiftly arranged, and the woods around my town were scoured for days on end. The search was tireless, the town used every resource at its disposal to find Henry and his boy. But, they never were found. The search became hopeless and eventually stopped completely. Henry and his son became mourned ghosts in the community. They had an honorary funeral, and their graves were dug right next to his wife’s.
What happened to Henry and his son is still debated in our community. Various hypothesis and urban legends have sprung up over the many years since the incident. None of them have been deemed conclusive.
Henry’s cabin had been mostly left untouched since that dreadful day. The town decided to leave it alone out of respect for the lost members of its little community. I have always been intrigued by this very tragic case. So yesterday, I decided to go to the cabin and just take a look around.
I set off for Henry’s cabin around ten in the morning. The air was cool, and the sky was half-covered with clouds that constantly blocked out the sun as they passed by. Henry’s cabin sat all by itself amidst a sea of looming trees. It looked ancient, a building that had stood still in the relentless passage of time. The roof had partially caved in and some of the windows were broken, but otherwise, I’d say it looked just the same as it had the night Henry and his son disappeared.
I walked up to the front door, which was caked in moss, lichen and dust. I then took hold of the nob, and gently edged it open. And then I stepped inside. The dark living room had been cleared out. Only a single chair remained. It sat alone in front of the ash and soot smeared fireplace. To the left of me was the bedroom. I peered in through the doorway. Surprisingly, the two bed frames were still there, but the blankets and the mattresses were long gone.
I left the bedroom and went to the solitary chair. I checked it for stability, and when it proved still sturdy, I sat down on it. The atmosphere of the cabin was just so heavy. There was certain feel to the air. The type of feeling that puts you on edge and makes goosebumps form on your skin. Some people said the cabin was haunted, and sitting there, all alone in the shadowy living room of the place, I started thinking the same too.
I sat there, ruminating. Trying to figure out just what had happened to Henry and his son. And then I noticed something in the fireplace. I leaned forward, and noticed a small object buried beneath the ash and soot. I grasped it and wiped away all the debris. My eyes then widened. It was a stone carved into the image of an Owl. What the hell was it doing in the fireplace?
I suddenly felt lightheaded. My vision started to blur, and my limbs became weak. A wave of lethargy overcame me, and eventually I couldn’t keep my eyes open any longer. Everything went black, and I then felt as though I was floating. As if had become nothing but air, unconfined by my physical body. And then I suddenly felt heat, and smelt burning wood and heard the crackling of a fire.
An image began form in front of me. Like the calming of rippling water. When it finally smoothed out, I found myself still inside the cabin. Only now it wasn’t an empty husk. There was fire in a the fireplace, a table with two chairs, a stove, and a rocking chair in front of the fireplace. I looked to the window, it was nighttime and it appeared to be snowing outside.
The front door then opened. And, much to my astonishment, Henry Kowlett walked inside. He was wearing a snow-caked coat and boots, and was holding some firewood beneath his right arm. He wiped his face, and then he brought the wood over to the fireplace and dropped it in. The fire strengthened, and casted even more of it’s orange light across the cabin.
Henry removed his coat and boots, and set his boots next to he fire, and then he laid his frozen coat on the table. Then he walked over to the bedroom door and quietly edged it open, and then he peeked inside. He smiled and then he quietly shut the door. Then he stretched and walked over to the rocking chair and sat down. The glow of the fire engulfed him, and he rested his hands over his stomach.
Henry sat there, rocking slightly, gazing into the warm fire. But his peace was then interrupted by eight loud knocks at the door. He winced a little, surprised by the suddenness of the knocks.
“What the hell?” He whispered.
Letting out a annoyed sigh, Henry got up out of his chair and walked over to the front door and opened it. A woman stood on the other side. A tall, very pale woman with dark marks around her eyes. Her coal-black, shaggy hair fell well passed her shoulders and was brushed with snow. She wore no shoes. Her only item of clothing was a deerskin dress, and a necklace of beads and carved stones, one of which I quickly recognised as the owl figurine I had discovered in the fireplace.
Despite her little clothing, she did not seem be all that bothered by the cold. She merely stood there, hands limp at her sides, staring her firey green eyes down at Henry.
“May I help you? Are you lost?” Asked Henry.
“No.” The woman replied, her voice low and raspy like an icy wind.
Henry leaned to the side of the woman, trying to see passed her. He scrutinised the area outside the cabin, and then he looked at the woman again.
“Are you with that band down by the river?” He asked.
“No.” The woman replied.
Henry put his hand on his hip and shot a suspicious look at the woman.
“Okay then, what the hell are you doing here?”
The woman smiled.
“I just need to talk to you.”
The woman pushed passed Henry and then took a seat at the table. Henry glared at the woman, and then shut the door.
“What the hell do you want to talk about? I ain’t never met you before.”
The woman rested her sharply nailed hands on the table.
“I knew your grandfather.” The woman replied.
“What? How’d you know him? He never said anything about you.”
The woman grinned and gestured to the chair across the table. I got a good look at her teeth. They were very sharp looking. Reluctantly, Henry joined the strange woman at the table.
“Alright, tell me how you know my grandfather.” Demanded Henry.
“He came to me a few nights before your father was born.” The woman responded.
Henry gave her a perplexed look.
“What? You don’t look all that old. Hell, you look younger than I am.”
The woman smiled.
“Let’s get back to the topic at hand. You know that nice little ranch you grew up on? You had all of that because of me.”
“What?”
“You heard me. Your grandfather didn’t get that ranch through, well, moral means. You see, he was fighting over the ownership of that ranch with a man from a substantially richer family. He wouldn’t have had a chance in hell of getting it without my help.”
Henry’s eyes narrowed.
“He found out about me from the hushed whispers of some Sokoki hunters he was trading with. They of course wouldn’t want anything to do with me. But your grandfather, like all your folk, was naive.”
Henry huffed and clenched his fists.
“Where the hell are you going with this? Who the fuck are you? Are you some kind of medicine woman? What tribe are you from?”
“Oh, I’m not one of those fools who fail to see the true power in their work. I can’t recall which tribe I used to be a part of. It is not something I’m too concerned about, really. My past means nothing to me now.”
A rustle came from the bedroom, and Henry glanced nervously at the door. A small, sly smile briefly spread on the woman’s pallid face. She then continued.
“As I was saying, your grandfather came to me for assistance. Begging me to get rid of the little leech draining his heavenly future away. Being the merciful woman that I am, I took pity upon him and did just as he asked. His rival met a bloody end at the crescent claws of a great bear. The ranch was now your grandfather’s, handed to him by me on a gold-encrusted platter. I gave your grandfather everything he’d asked of me. Of course, I needed some compensation for my work. It was reasonable and inexpensive. Your grandfather swore to uphold his end of the bargain. So I waited, and waited, and waited. But, my payment never came. He had lied to me.”
The woman’s hands clenched into fists, and her eyes narrowed.
“I was reason your grandfather abandoned the ranch when you were ten cycles old. The reason he hauled you and your mother into these cold woods to hide in the shadows beneath their branches. He knew I wasn’t happy. He knew I was going to turn up any day. And I did turn up. To an empty homestead. Denied what was rightfully mine.” She said and then nodded to my father.
Henry’s mouth fell agape, and he edged away from the woman.
“What do you mean?” He asked.
“You should’ve been nursed in my arms.” She said.
“What the hell are you talking about?”
The woman gave a slight grin, and Henry now seemed to notice how sharp her teeth were. The bedroom door then creaked open, and Henry’s son stood in the doorway. He looked about seven years old, and was wearing a nightgown. His large, blue eyes quickly fell upon the woman and she looked at him and smiled.
“Well, my dear Henry, here’s your chance to pay your grandfather’s debt.”
“Thomas, go back to bed.” Henry ordered.
“No. Stay were you are, little one.” Said the woman, and Thomas stayed where he was.
“Look at him. Such a sad little thing. A boy his age needs a mother. You clearly don’t know a thing about nurturing a child. But then, I guess it isn’t your fault. You were raised by that worthless father of your’s, and his whore.”
Henry swiftly stood up and glared daggers down at the woman.
“Get out of my house, you damned she-devil.” He hissed and then he ran over to a drawer and retrieved his hunting rifle from it. He pointed it at the woman, and gritted his teeth.
“You ain’t taking my boy.”
Thomas stood there, shaking. He seemed to be frozen to the spot, either out of fear or some kind of hypnosis the woman had put him under. The woman sat there, staring at the enraged Henry, the man barely constraining his volcanic wrath. The woman sneered, and then she flipped the table onto Henry with uncanny strength and speed. The table slammed into Henry, and his gun went off and the bullet shattered the window.
The table knocked Henry to the ground, and he lay beneath it, winded. His rifle was no longer in his grasp. Now it lay a few feet across the room. The woman stood up, and then she walked over to Henry, and brought her foot down onto his arm. A loud crack echoed across the room, and Henry screamed.
“Don’t get up.” Said the woman, coldly.
“Fuck you…” Henry hissed.
The woman walked over to Thomas, and then she took him into her arms. Henry growled, and then he pushed the table off himself. And then he got to his feet and charged at her. She spun around with lightning speed, and managed to dodge his attempted tackle, but he managed to grab hold of her necklace and tear it away. The beads went all over the floor, and the stone owl went into the smouldering fire.
The woman let loose an inhuman growl and then she launched forward and lashed out with her right hand, and plunged her sharp nails into Henry’s chest. He gasped and went still, and a single tear fell from his eye.
“This didn’t have to happen, Henry. Thomas is going with me, whether you like it or not.” Said the woman.
The woman retracted her claws from Henry’s chest, and then Henry fell onto his knees, breathing shallowly, his eyes unblinking and wide.
“Now sleep, Henry.”
The woman walked to the door, and both she and Thomas vanished into the icy darkness. Henry fell onto his side, and quietly wept.
“I’m sorry, Martha. She… she took Thomas. She took our boy. She took…” His voice suddenly stopped. Ice began to form over his face, and his arms, and his clothes. He then lay there, completely frozen for a second, and then he burst into innumerable shards of ice that scattered all around the room and then melted away to nothing.
I awoke with a loud gasp on the floor of Henry’s cabin. Only now it looked as it did when I first entered it. Empty and cold. The stone owl was still in my hand, and was now far cleaner than it was when I found it. But then cracks began to grow all around it, and then it completely evaporated into a cloud of dust and disappeared into the air.
I dropped my hand to my side, and I lay there on the floor for what felt like hours, ruminating upon what I had just seen. That phantasmal vision the stone owl had somehow inflicted upon me. It was no dream, no hallucination. I now knew what had happened that night. And it was horrifying.
I left the cabin and returned to my house. I wanted to tell everyone of what I had seen, but thought back on it. They obviously wouldn’t believe me. And that accursed owl stone had withered away before my eyes, so I couldn’t use that either.
I guess the best thing I can do is put some flowers on Henry’s grave, and tell him how sorry I was for what happened to him and his son. God, that woman. Henry’s father should’ve heeded the fear of those hunters and not sought out her help. What an idiot he was.