It is a northern country; they have cold weather; they have cold hearts.

The cabin is small, confining, and abandoned – spider webs dangle from the ceiling, and the fireplace is engulfed in snow. The small flame emitted from a dim candle is the only sign of life to the place. 

To the locals the house has become hell. A solitary dwelling, deep into the woods, engrossed in countless stories of its horrors and tragedies. One boy was said to have been possessed after visiting the cursed cabin, while another went missing and was last seen entering the deep depths of the Scandinavian woods. Surrounded by mystery, the house has become a subject of intrigue for many, yet no one has made the visit since.

Poor; starving. The orphan found himself willing to do anything for half a loaf of bread for him and his grandmother, or a warm blanket to help him battle frostbite. Yet, none of the townsfolk had any available chores they could offer to the young man motivated to do even the lowest of the low, chimney sweeping. Go to the old house Peter and find some of the bread that we left. Perhaps the child was not determined to do absolutely anything, but he was left with no other option.

Frightened, the young boy began his venture. Towering trees engulfed the kid as he ever so slowly went further into the supposedly eerie openings of the forest. But to him, there was not a sense of mystery around the abandoned cabin. Had it not been for the fire, he would have continued to live a normal, mundane life with his parents. However, the tragedy did take place – a ravaging fire, kindled by a miniscule candle. The boy did not look forward to the return.

On arrival nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary. The welcome mat was still displayed on the floor prior to entering, but it had become a lot less inviting. Upon entering, it was a different story. The whole floor was buried underneath an abundance of snow, and the once overarching chandelier had shattered into pieces, along with the previously majestic mirror. In addition, a low hissing could be constantly heard. Yet, one thing remained constant. The candle.

Although hurt at the sight of the candle, the boy was intrigued. Attempting to resist his fear, he reluctantly began to walk over. It lay on a solitary table, at the end of the house. The walk was agonizing. Peter lifted the ever-present candle from its homemade altar – it appeared to be no different to the ordinary candle. All of this mystique for nothing, the boy thought to himself. But at that moment, a ghost materialized in front of him. A silhouette. 

‘Son, join us.’ It vanished.

He listened out of desperation, like all the other commands he had received in his life. There was no reason for him to long to keep his current, disadvantaged life in favour of a fresh new start. Wearily, he grabbed the candle by the flame; it consumed his body in an instant.

The family – half alive – prospered.