Before this past Christmas, my family hasn’t all been together since my father died three years ago. Well, even that is not entirely true. My oldest brother, Jeremy, had been gone a few years longer than that. He left physically the summer after I graduated high school, but he’d been checked out for about as long as I could remember. Nearly fifteen years older than our brother Matt and over twenty years older than me, he’d always seemed like a weird uncle who just stayed with us from time to time—polite and pleasant, but always distant and preoccupied in a way that kept everyone and everything at arm’s length.
When he suddenly dropped off the map, my mother had been terrified he’d been murdered or in some kind of accident. She spent months talking to police and calling hospitals with no luck. My dad…he was convinced Jeremy had gotten into drugs. He’d been hanging with a strange crowd since dropping out of college, and to our father that nearly always translated into junkies.
It wasn’t an unrealistic guess, and in some ways it might have not been that far off—Jeremy had been withdrawn and odd for years, and I did get the sense that he was obsessed with something, though I couldn’t have said what that was for sure. I knew that when he came home, he was always lugging this old, red backpack with him, usually bulging at the seams and looking heavy as a rock. My brother would give us a nod or a cursory smile as he made a beeline for his room, and aside from grabbing food occasionally, we wouldn’t see him again until he had to go to work. The only indication I ever had of what he might be doing was the handful of times I caught him reading from an old book or making pages of cramped notes on these yellow pads he always used.
Jeremy was never mean to me or anything, but I still always felt a little afraid of him. Usually I avoided him, which given his habits and routines, wasn’t hard to do. But there was one day when I asked him what he was doing all the time. What he was studying so hard. Wasn’t he out of school now?
He’d just looked at me a moment, seemingly on the verge of a short, brush-off answer before thinking better of it. Setting down the book he had been paging through intently, he came over and knelt down beside me, his look kind, if a little sad. He put his hands on my arms gently—maybe the closest thing to a hug I ever remember getting from Jeremy.
“Kat, you don’t need to worry about this stuff, okay? You’re a sweet kid. You stay in school. This stuff…well, I know this sounds lame, but its for adults, okay?” He looked away for a moment. “It’s not something you should probably ever know about.”
That was when I was about eight or nine, and before a few days ago it was still the strongest memory I had of my strange and secretive older brother.
When I got the email from Matt saying he’d rented a cabin for the family for Christmas, my first thought was that it was a joke or some weirdly specific scam email. I love Matt, but he’s not what I would call overly thoughtful or sentimental. I hadn’t even seen him in over a year and we just live a couple of hours away from each other. The idea that he would organize and pay for a cabin just so he could spend his Christmas with me, our Mom, and my Aunt Trudy…yeah, no.
So I texted him about it, half-figuring I wouldn’t get a response at all. To my surprise, he replied in just a few minutes. It really was from him and it wasn’t a joke. He wanted us all to get together. He missed us spending time together. I texted him again.
Are you dying of cancer or something?
No. Just trying to do something nice.
And then:
Asshole.
And just like that, I started planning to see my family again.
By the time I got to the cabin, Matt and the Weird Sisters were already there. The Weird Sisters is what we always called our mom and Trudy when they got together. Separately they were normal-acting, even kind of boring. Typical mom or aunt-type behavior. But together? They started telling each other stories, reminiscing about their childhood, drinking and singing and acting like they were real people instead of objects just there to fill familial roles for their children and/or nieces and nephews. It was pretty shocking, really. Pretty weird.
It was also pretty awesome. Mom had been down for so long—our Dad had been sick for a few months toward the end, and so it was a relief in some ways when it was over, but in other ways, especially for her, it was like the start of a neverending fall down a black well of loneliness. I felt a pang of guilt at seeing her so happy now—I should have been there for her more since he died. I should have suggested this two Christmases ago. I looked over and gave Matt a grateful grin. I was glad he’d thought of it for us.
That first night was really fun. The cabin was huge and really nice—we all had our own rooms with a couple left over, there was a full kitchen and two bathrooms, and the kitchen was even stocked with some basic food and supplies. When I asked Matt how much it cost, if I could help him pay for it, he just looked embarrassed and shrugged. He said it was all taken care of, no worries. I wanted to ask more questions, but he looked uncomfortable talking about it, so I let it go.
We went to bed late that night, and the next morning I woke up just before noon with a small hangover and dry mouth. I could smell food cooking and it only took a moment for it to go from smelling delicious to making me want to puke a little. I needed fresh air before I could even think about eating anything.
So I decided to go for a walk. After getting dressed, I waved to Mom and Trudy at the stove as I walked across the living room without stopping or breathing through my nose, telling them I was going for a short hike and that I’d be back in a bit.
Then I was alone and outside.
The cabin was at the end of a small, leaf-strewn dirt road that wound its way up the mountain and into a forest of hardwoods that seemed to go on for at least a few miles in every direction. I’d expected to see other cabins, or at least other driveways and mailboxes, on the way up to the rental, but there’d been none. Instead it was just winter trees, grey sky, and in the distance, what looked like a small creek or stream. Looking around with a smile, I headed in the water’s direction.
What had looked at a distance like a slow stream turned out to be a quickly-moving small river, with the far shore about fifteen feet away. I was both excited and disappointed—the river was cool and all, but I didn’t see any shallow or narrow spots that looked good for crossing, at least not with how cold it was. No bridges in either direction either.
Giving a small sigh, I picked a direction and walked with the river instead, figuring at the very least it should be easy to not get lost, even if I walked a good ways. Besides, the scenery was beautiful, if a bit bleak, and the exercise would do me some good. So walking with the current, I went deeper into the woods.
I’m not some major outdoors person, but I’m not stupid either. I didn’t rely on just the river to guide me back up to the cabin later. I paid attention to landmarks as I went, and a couple of times when I hadn’t seen anything of note for a bit, I made a point of stopping and breaking particular branches on a given tree that I should notice on my return.
I was on the verge of starting my way back when I saw something on the shore of the river a little bit further down. At first I thought it was just a pile of rocks, and then I had the idea that it might be some kind of grave or small burial mound. But it was neither. It was a tiny stone hut, squatting on the edge of the river like some patient frog waiting to catch its dinner. The hut’s mouth was open and dark, a small passageway that led into whatever miniscule space the meager structure could provide.
I considered leaving it alone. Now that I was closer, it was obvious someone had made it, but what if there was a snake or something in there? Even if there wasn’t, whose property was I even on at this point? What right did I have to be poking around in somebody’s weird little rock house?
Still, I was curious. There was nothing else around, no other signs of people. And what would it hurt to have a peek inside with my phone’s light? I was already crouching down at the opening before my brain could offer a counterargument.
I held my breath as I shined the light inside, readying myself if I needed to jump away from a coiled rattlesnake or angry raccoon. But there was nothing like that. The interior of the stone hut was almost empty aside from the scrim of broken river rocks and dirt that lay on its dug-out floor.
Not entirely empty though. Along the far wall I saw a large grey rock with a fat, unlit candle sitting on it. That was a little odd, but if that had been all there was I would have probably left it and gone back up the river to the cabin.
It wasn’t all. There was something colorful sticking out from the bottom edge of the rock. I could only see the edge of it, and the phone’s flashlight washed out any detail, but I still felt my heart start hammering as the familiar flash of yellow caught the light.
It was a piece of notebook paper. Just like Jeremy used to use.
I hesitated for a moment, the rational side of my brain arguing hard against the unnerving certainty that it wasn’t just like something Jeremy had used, it was something he had used. But what sense did that make? He’d been gone for years—so long, in fact, that even Mom managed to resist bringing him up most of the time now. And he’d never been out here that I knew of. I hadn’t either. This wasn’t some family vacation spot or something. If I went into this creepy little hut, it would either fall in on me or I’d get bit by a spider, all for something that was probably a kid’s MASH game or candy wrapper. I was just still a little drunk and feeling sentimental and…And I was still going in to see what it was.
I crawled through the opening carefully, making sure to avoid brushing either side out of fear I might dislodge some stone that was holding it all together. It only took a second to crab-walk over to the far side and tug the piece of paper free from its place under the candle rock. It wasn’t a wrapper or kid’s game. It was a neatly folded piece of lined yellow paper, and even before I opened it I could see thin, black traces of writing on the inside.
I never considered getting back out of the hut before seeing what it said. There were eight lines written in small, slanted lettering that could have been Jeremy’s, though I couldn’t remember well enough to say one way or the other. Below that was a small, strange symbol I didn’t recognize. Reading the words as the light played across the page, my lips moved soundlessly as blood began to thunder in my ears.
You sought the truth
It sought you as well
Now hand in hand
You walk into hell
It pulls you down
You see the mark
You’ve finally found
The Inner Dark.
My hand clenched the note as a spasm went through me. I had to get out of there. Right then. I couldn’t breathe in there any more.
I scrabbled back through the door in a panic, gulping lungfuls of air as soon as I reached the other side. I wanted to get further away, but something caught my eye and froze me in my tracks. Turning slowly, I saw the yellow flicker again from inside the darkness of the stone hut.
The candle was lit now.
I ran all the way back to the cabin, the forest whipping by in a blur. I was making good speed, but it still seemed like the river went on forever, and I was half-convinced I’d overshot when I spotted the cabin through the trees. Standing on the riverbank, I forced myself to stop and catch my breath. I didn’t really know what I had seen. Maybe I had fallen asleep or something. Hit my head? I didn’t know, but either way, I was okay and I didn’t need to be rolling up to the cabin looking like a crazy person. I needed to think about it some more, process it, and decide if it was even worth mentioning to my family or not.
That’s when I heard my mother laughing.
It wasn’t the wild laughter of the night before. The distracted joy of someone trying to forget about their day to day worries and losses. This was deeper, more emotional, and in some indefinable way, more heartfelt. It was the first real laugh I’d heard from our Mom in years. Smiling, I stuffed the yellow paper into my jeans and pushed my way through the trees.
The smile faltered when I saw a strange man standing on the porch with Mom, Trudy, and Matt. Our mother kept alternating between beaming at him and giving him quick little hugs as they talked in low tones. Just then, the man turned and looked at me with a small smile.
It was Jeremy.
“Hey, Kat. It’s really good to see you.”
---
Credits
Comments