my cabin

Up, up Evoee Mountain.

My Cabin

Give two, cross.

         A cavernous stretch of a canyon was plowed into the snow. The icy winds and leaves fought overhead. The brigade of pines on either side took up arms against the assault of hurled air. Caw Caw Caw.. The snickering crows took off in a shudder before the reverberating clashing metal.


         In a great yelp, it was dead. A great hammer slammed against the dash, furious of the machine's treachery. Hopping out in a crunch, the snow-swept man wrestled to the back against the onslaught. Peeling the trunk open, he wiggled his hand through the piles of equipment, feeling the cold rubber of a neglected chainsaw blade.


         Pushing it aside, the persistent hand pulled, revealing a dim gas lamp. In a twirl, the lamp lazily gleamed from a long slumber. He twisted to his side, planting his booted-feet hard into the soft ground.


         Slow steps echoed against the rough wind. Caw caw caw. Crows perched themselves on the wooden dike, peering intently as the shape wrestled on ahead. The glistening light carved a circle in the warmth for only a moment.


         A great blast. Two coins bounced in the rusty bucket. The crows hustled off again into the dog-fight above. Nothing remained to block the sign. "Give two, cross.", It whispered meekly.

Chapter One: I really don't like you.

         "I really don't like you" That was the third time today I heard that. "Well if you don't like me, then you can just complain over there!" My hand waved violently at the nearest thicket of dry vines. The wind howled above, punctuating my remark. He looked slightly upset. "I was joking! I'd never say I didn't like anyone!" He held up his arms, palms facing me in an attempt to appear innocent.


         "I'm perfectly fine, I have warm blood." The "warm blood" was muffled slightly as I wrapped my face with my velvet scarf. "Plus, your jacket smells." The path ahead stretched on for what seemed like forever, or at least as far as the wave of snowflakes allowed.


         I whimpered to myself. Why couldn't I have my glasses? I shot a dirty look at the circle rimmed spectacles I was gripping. These don't even fit me! How could I mistake them? My frozen arm barely resisted the urge to hurl them into the ever-consuming snow.


         "Tom" was taking long strides to my side. The musty jacket he was previously offering was now covering his shivering shoulders. "If the wind is coming from the North that means we have to be going south, right?" A howl echoed behind us, and a great blast nearly toppled us both forward. Tom held onto his hat for dear life while he went crooked. We steadied ourselves as the gust died, looking at each other and letting out a worried laugh. "I think the wind just hates us. We're going in circles." Tom lowered his messy head a little. Chortling hurriedly, I muttered "That wasn't sarcasm- I really do feel like we've been here before.."


         My gloved hands were violently rubbing against each other while Tom pondered out-loud. "Mr Bill saw you last right? That means he knows we're missing, so maybe we should just stay put?" I squinted my eyes in a futile attempt to make eye contact, "Mr Bill thinks I went home, it'd take days for anyone to realize I've gone. If we stay here I won't have any fingers left." I exhaled my shaky warm breath onto my screaming palms.


         I thought to myself that somewhere behind all that storm was old Mr Bill laying down on his bed, with one of those old sleepy caps and a shotgun in his hand. It'd be a funny idea if it hadn't been the way he was dressed a couple hours ago. I sighed to myself. How I miss that heater.


         Shaking it off, I noticed that Tom slowed down to a crawl with a few steps. Finally, he stopped softly. He was now angled to our left. Hugging myself, I turned too. There stood a lonely wall of weathered and crumbling gray bricks slowly growing out of the ground. It ran as far as the path went, so who knows how long it was.


         "Civilization?" Tom chimed. "Maybe in the gilded age..." I retorted. I knew I was right. "Berry" has to be the only person crazy enough to live in an eternal storm of snow and wind, and I almost envy his determination to live alone.


         The tracks which we had been following were now half-buried by fresh flakes. By then, I desperately wanted to cry and kick all the snow away. Tom let out a slight smile and chortled "Hey, that guy only had like a four minute head start. I'd eat my tongue if he already made it to his homeless encampment."


         As we pressed on, I could only feel the creeping onslaught of ice worsen as the obscured sun set. The sky was slowly turning from a light playful gray to a foreboding dark charcoal. Hiding behind the low clouds, I could still make-out the sharp upturn of the towering mountain, while it was howling and laughing at us small-ings. Look at them, twisting and turning like a meek twig against the storm.

Bill

         "You did it again Alfred, you did it again". Supine on his red wooly sheets, Bill had one outstretched palm over the soft fur of his only roommate, Alfred. After years of what seemed futile to many, Bill had taught Alfred to carry his gun from the squat cabinet in the living room all the way to his king-sized bed.


         It was a late night for Bill, the sun was already setting. He yawned greatly while stretching out his sprawling arms. That Dorlin girl really had a lot to ask about, he thought while grinning, pleased. After a swig from a fat carton of hot coco, he hugged his rifle, and turned the metal dial on the lamp. Now in comfortable darkness, he thought no more that night.