Any truly memorable place deserves to be revisited, and that certainly applies to Haunted Cabin of the Dogwood Audubon Canyon Trails in Cedar Hill, TX.
On my second visit to these trails, I was accompanied by my husband and my father, both of whom are adventure enthusiasts. We started out early that morning with styrofoam coffee mugs in hand and with a camera around my neck, as always. It was gusty in those hills and the air had a chill which would sting like the strike of a whip on the flesh. Still, though we ventured onward for the thrill of adventure and the love of each other's company.
Tucked into the woodland beside the 1382 roadway is a faded wooden sign with bold white letters. One could nearly miss the narrow turnoff leading to the trail center's building. After being asked to sign the trail logbook as a record of those coming to and from in case of an emergency, we were directed once again to the wooden pathway leading upwards along the mountain. The walkways with banisters quickly vanished as we became enveloped by trees the further we journeyed into the woodland. Aside from the occasional trail marker - a single digit on a wooden post - no other sign of humankind marred the natural beauty of the forest. Winding ever upwards, the steep trail drew us deeper into the shadowy heart of the low hanging trees before parting to reveal the gem of these mysterious woods.
If one did not know of the cabin's existence before embarking on this trek up the mountain, a person might deem the small structure out of place. This offputting shelter made from wood and sheets of tin juts out from the tranquility of the forest in a tiny clearing so unnaturally that one might be inclined to believe that they had strayed from the trail and ended up on private property. But the cabin itself is a crumbling trailside monument to a bygone time where it had once been functional. Inside, one can spy a broken sink, a medicine cabinet whose door now hangs ajar at an awkward angle, a small wooden chair which resembles one which could be found in an old schoolhouse, a barrel that appears to have been used as a furnace, a deteriorated mattress, and a tin bucket which has been bent out of shape. The door to the cabin and the windows have been covered by wire fencing and stapled into place with large deep pins directly into the structure itself. Inside, it appears that nothing has been moved since the original occupant left it in this bizarre condition. A lone water bottle lies on the floor of the cabin but could have been pushed through the fencing since the fence appears to be undisturbed.
If I were given the opportunity, I would love to have the chance to explore the inside more thoroughly. But until that option becomes available, I must suffice to be a curious onlooker standing from the doorway gazing in. Those of us who stand at the barricaded doorway are left to wonder what purpose the cabin might have served, who might have lived here, and what someone like that might dream about on nights where raindrops strike the tin roof overhead while he slept alone on his worn mattress out there with the eyes of the forest upon him and the crowding of the leaves from the trees blocking out the moonlight.
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