Depth and the Darkness

The Depth and the Darkness
October 20, 2004

If only it were light, then I could see the clouds of breath that billowed from my mouth in the freezing cold. The snow that had been falling for days crunched beneath my feet. My nose was burning to the point that every time a gust of wind blew past me, I’d wince in pain. My eyes were watering and I was aching all over, but I had a destination. She called me a few nights ago and had finally consented to give her story, but she failed to divulge the fact that her cabin was in the middle of nowhere-upstate Washington. There was no road to her house, just a trail covered in snow.

The cabin, I estimated, was about another mile through the snow, and it was becoming increasingly harder to see with the whipping snowy air and the suffocating darkness around me. I am terrified of the woods, especially at night, and I began to wonder why I was there. As I continued, I noticed several shriveled apple carcasses still hanging from the trees above. Another wind came through, this time even more intense. The evergreens in the distance rustled their leaves wildly and the wind whistled around me. A few dead apples fell from a branch somewhere above me. They just laid there dead in the snow. I hoped that Sabola had a good story and wasn’t going to act as strange as she had the last time I attempted to interview her. I knew that she’d had a nervous breakdown, but people still needed to know what happened that night. I hoped that she had overcome her fears enough to remember that night, just to enough to give me clues about what had happened.

I kept racking my brain, thinking of how I should approach her once I met her. I probably shouldn’t bombard her right off the bat, since she was still recovering from her frail mental health. I wondered why she chose this night for me to come. But I knew I had to get the story. I began to come to a clearing. The upward trek was leveling out and soon revealed a vast depth of white snowy ground that raced to the horizon and met the nighttime sky. The blinking stars were breathtaking, and I thought to myself ‘I’ve never seen so many stars’. Somewhere among the wonderland, I began to make out a faint gray shape several yards from the ledge I’d just conquered. I thought it was odd that no lights were on, but maybe she didn’t have electricity since she was isolated. I hurriedly made my way toward the shape.

The cabin was extremely modest. It couldn’t be more than a one-room deal, with one window in the front and a dormant chimney. I thought to myself ‘I must suggest to Sabola that she throw some logs in the fireplace’. There’s no way the cabin was warm and comfortable right now, which was a disappointing revelation to me. I was hoping for some drastic relief from the bitter cold.

As I made my way to the front door, I noticed through the window a faint glow coming from the back of the cabin. It was very faint, what looked like the last bit of white wax melting from a candle. But I couldn’t see Sabola. I knocked twice on the door. Not a stir came from the house. I thought that maybe she was a heavy sleeper, so I knocked again. I started to wonder if anyone was even there. Someone must have been there recently. Who lit the candle?

I walked over to the window and peered in. The candle wax was dripping on the floor now, as the little bowl that held it was overflowing. A picture of the Virgin Mary hung above the bed, and a crucifix lay on the bedside table. I decided to go back to the door and try the handle – though I had an ill feeling I might regret it. But I didn’t have a clue as to where I was out there in the snowy wilderness, and I needed to get in out of the wind and snow – and the dark. The door was unlocked, so I stepped inside. I was shocked to find it extremely warm inside. I knew that there was no way that the candle could have provided even minimal heat, much less fiercely combated the biting cold outside. It was stifling hot in there. I had to remove my jacket and gloves.

I proceeded towards the bed, cautionate. A bible was on the pillow, opened to John 3:19; the entire passage was highlighted. “And this is the condemnation, that light is come into the world, and men loved darkness rather than light, because their deeds were evil. For every one that doeth evil hateth the light, neither cometh to the light, lest his deeds be reproved. But he that doeth truth cometh to the light, that his deeds may be made manifest, that they are wrought in God”. The page was very wrinkled and worn, as though the reader had clung to it for dear life.

A spot on the wooden floor near the window quickly drew my attention. I determined that it was a burn mark, a very large burn mark. Much of the mark was covered by a floor rug. I pulled it away to reveal a mark that was almost the length of my body in diameter. I thought that maybe Sabola had dropped a pot, or maybe she had an accident with a candle.

There was something else there. The boards were almost too hot to touch, but I could make out that the wood there was weak. Then the candle went out. The boards began to creak and I felt the floor shift. I stood up quickly and backed away. Then it stopped, and I heard a voice. It was faint, somber, almost crying. I heard a whimper and the voice called my name. It was Sabola! Maybe she had crawled under the house to get something. She had mentioned having a cat, so maybe it was hiding under the cabin somewhere and she was trying to catch it and bring it in for the night. I called out her name, but she just kept whimpering. Then I heard her scream.

The floors began to creak and moan. Then they snapped up like twigs. A heat wave burst through the room and knocked me to the floor. The boards stuck up in sharp points, like spires impaling the air. I felt myself moving towards the fresh opening, but I couldn't tell if it was beyond my control or of my own desire. I found myself standing up, looking down into the depth. It was a strange depth, one of sadness, fear, insanity. I heard the echo of voices – crying, singing crazily, beckoning. And then she leapt from the depth and grabbed me, her fingers burning me as she shrieked. I fell. I saw my life as it was – I was alone on a snowy hill, staring into the night sky. I was peaceful. And then I began running after something I couldn’t see, calling Sabola’s name. I began screaming.

I could hear the sounds from the depths growing louder - the crying, the agony, the pleading in my head. Was this hell? I heard an ebbing and flowing sound of bestial drumming. I could hear myself dying as the screams grew louder around me. And then there was dead silence. The last thing I heard was a whimper. I don't know if it belonged to me.

And then I heard your voice. You called my name. I was in the snow, the red snow. I was lying there singing a song. Everything was red, spreading like a disease across the snow. And there was Sabola, lying next to me in the snow, looking at me. Her eyes were wide open, empty, and glassy. Her stringy brown hair was spread across the ground like burned straw. The shadows moved around us, circling like vultures. They swept me up and took me away. But now I’m here, in this cell. I want out.

There was a pause.

“That’s not possible. We can’t let you go free. I must tell you that Sabola is not real…she is in your head,” I told her. “You hurt yourself in the dark. You were afraid.”

Afraid of what?

“The dark, the woods…being alone, unprotected,” I said.

I wasn’t alone. Sabola is certainly real, doctor. She’s down there waiting in the depths.

“What depths? There was no cabin, no hole or depth,” I stated.

There is a depth, doctor, and she’s waiting.

“Who is Sabola waiting for?” I asked.

She’s waiting for you, doctor. Lights out.