The Candle and The Cabin

The moonlit trail faded into shadow a few feet before him, overgrown bushes and unseen underbrush obscuring his path through the woods. Reluctantly, Mike uncrossed his arms and held them gingerly out in front of him as he made his tentative way along, the chill night air freezing his chest through the flimsy t-shirt he wore. The silence around him was eerie, as though the forest was holding its breath, watching him stumbling like an ungainly intruder through its domain.

‘Merry Christmas Mikee,...