Source: harrydona on Pixabay, altered with Deep Dream Generator
The Miner's Cabin
“Don’t go in there, Simon. Please. I’m seriously scared out of my gourd right now.”
Simon laughed. Then he kept edging toward the dark heap that was once a miner’s cabin and now was the stuff of legend. Most of the locals believed it to be haunted. People had seen things, like lights in the cabin at night. Shadows of a man moving past the window. They’d heard the sound of a pickaxe chiseling away at tunnel walls somewhere nearby. But there were no tunnels here that anyone knew of, and everyone assumed the miner had mostly panned for gold in the streams that flowed out of the Yosemite valley.
“This was your idea, Larissa,” he said. “Neither of us believes in ghosts. So all we have to do is step inside, look around, take note that nothing is at all weird in there, and report back to our friends.”
Larissa stayed crouched behind the mountain hemlock, taking comfort in its woodsy aroma. “Okayyyyy. So why do I have this creepy feeling like we’re not alone? My skin is all goosebumpy. Something else is here. I feel it.”
“Babe, just chill. I’m not feeling what you’re feeling. You just stay here. I’ll go in on my own. Be back in a jiffy.”
She seized his arm. Terror gripped her. She imagined the creepy, decayed corpse of the miner thumping around the cabin in some haunting, horrible stage between life and death, looking for something to strike with his ancient, rusted pickaxe.
“No, Simon. This is all wrong. It seemed like a great idea, but now I just want us to go home. Come on. We’ll have a beer, answer the door for the trick-or-treaters. We can even watch a horror movie, if you like. That will be a much better way to spend Halloween night.”
She thought of all the times she had covered her eyes while they watched horror movies, and realized now how safe she had been, and how silly it was to be so affected by something on the damn TV. But this was different.
He looked at her in the darkness, mitigated only by the thin light of the waning crescent moon, which was just about to slip behind a looming cloud bank.
“We’ve come this far. Let’s just get on with it. You come with me, or you stay here. Your choice.”
She closed her eyes, trying to find some inner calm. And that’s when they heard the low grumbling of something moving through the woods toward them.
She opened her eyes. “Holy crap. What’s that?”
“Wild animal,” Simon said. “Probably a bear. They’re super hungry this time of year. Storing up calories for winter.”
“What do we do?”
The sound of the snuffling and grumbling came closer. She felt as if she could feel its hot breath. Then came a deafening roar. It had sensed them.
“Run!” Simon said. “C’mon quick. Into the cabin.”
They ran for the dark, dilapidated building, easily bursting through the decrepit door. Then they closed it behind them and pushed a heavy old kitchen table up against it.
Larissa’s pulse throbbed in her neck. Now what? She looked around. The place was dingy, dark, covered in cobwebs and dust. She could see almost nothing, now that the sliver of moon had slipped behind the clouds.
“Should we turn on a flashlight?” she whispered. “I’m so creeped out that we can’t see in here. What if that old miner is here somewhere, lurking?”
“I love your active imagination, babe. But no. Let’s give the bear time to pass by and try not to call attention to ourselves.”
Her heart thrummed, and she looked around, wild-eyed. If only her eyes would adjust and she could see what was around them. It had to be less frightening than what her mind was conjuring up right now.
Suddenly, Simon took her hand. “Did you hear something?”
“Oh shit! No. What? What did you hear?”
“Shh. I’m kidding.”
But then they did hear something. It was unmistakable. A pick, pick, pick sound emanated from somewhere. Something was chiseling away at a wall of stone.
Larissa seized Simon’s arm, just as they heard the growl of the bear and its heavy footsteps on the decaying wood of the porch. She screamed.
“Get away from the door!” Simon shouted. The bear was ramming it. They backed quickly away and looked for another room to run to.
Larissa fumbled for her flashlight in her backpack. She couldn’t see where to go. But she was too clumsy as she scrambled away from the door. Where was it?
Then there was a dreadful, dissonant crack as wood split. Only it wasn’t the door. It was the floor beneath their feet. They were tumbling, falling, landing with a thud onto some dark, detestable surface in a damp and desolate space.
“Are you okay?” Simon asked.
“Yeah, she said. Just bruised. Where are we?”
“I uh… think this is the miner’s tunnel. No wonder no one knew it existed. It’s underneath the old man’s cabin!”
“I’m scared, Simon! What if the bear gets into the cabin and falls on us? For frick sake, where’s your flashlight?”
That’s when they heard a wizened voice, dull and deep, almost deafening in the silence. “Light won’t help you, here.”
Larissa screamed again, so shrill this time that the echos seemed to fill the space, drowning out all thought and emotion, except for abject fear.
Simon held her hand tightly in the darkness. “Who… or what… are you?”
“Don’t be afraid, son.” Suddenly, in the deep darkness, the light of a miner’s lamp flicked on with a rusty-sounding click.
They shielded their eyes. In the dark, they could see nothing but a vague shape behind the light. After a moment, the light moved, showing the way to a ladder that led up toward a hatch in the floor, but not before it glimmered past some steel buckets filled with small rocks of gold.
“Go on, then,” the voice said. “And don’t tell anyone what you saw here.”
Larissa turned and started up the ladder, with Simon close behind. As she pushed through the hatch, she listened for the bear. There was nothing. It had moved on.
Once they were back inside the cabin, Simon turned on his light and they looked around. The place was completely decrepit and dust-covered. Nothing human had lived here for a very long time.
They crept out of the cabin and out into the darkness, heading toward home. Neither of them spoke. Larissa knew they would never mention any of this to their friends. They wouldn't believe a word of it.
Simon shone his light to guide them. She took his hand as they made their way through the woods and into town, her heartbeat slowly returning to normal. In town, they saw children wandering the streets, dressed as pirates and Jedi's, witches and zombies, all filling their bags with treasure.
“Trick or treat?” Larissa said.
He squeezed her hand. “That’s a very good question.”
Thank you for reading my story! This was inspired both by The Ink Well "Light" prompt and by the @hivebuzz Halloween story prompt.
Photo credits: All of the photos in this post were taken by me with my iphone and belong to me, unless otherwise noted.
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