The Wooden Lion

The large duffle bag landed with a thud as it hit the hard wooden floor.  Philip tossed his heavy jacket onto the quilted bed, a thin layer of dust wafting into the air from the motion.  

“Sorry bout’ that, Deary.” A small old woman said from the doorway.  Earlier Philip had learned her name to be Suzie.

 “It’s been ages since we’ve had to use this room, but it’s all we’ve got at the moment.  I’ll have fresh linen up here in a bit.” She said, looking around the room, abashed by the amount of cobwebs.

“Don’t worry about it.”  Philip muttered.  

“Nonsense! I can’t have a guest rolling around in the dirt all night.” The woman tisked.  She turned and started down the hallway, on a hunt for clean sheets. 

Philip breathed in deeply, then let out a slow sigh.  

The room was quaint, despite the thin line of dust everywhere. The walls were a light blue, matching the curtains and bedspread.  Dried starfish hung on the walls, along with a few strange sea shells that Philip couldn’t name.  The theme of the room matched the view, as he looked out the window and saw great waves crash onto the shore down below.  

The only thing unsettling about the room was the large bookshelf, full of ceramic dolls that seemed to be watching his every move. Not to mention the large black spiders spinning their webs above the bed.

A knock came from the door, pulling Philips' attention away from the creatures. 

“Hey, friend.”  A tall man walked into the room, scratching at his overgrown beard. “Getting settled, then?”  He held out a small piece of paper towards Philip.  Grasping it, Philip saw that it was a business card from a towing company.  

“The tow came and grabbed your car.  I couldn’t find ya, so I gave ‘em your number.” He put his hands on his hips, glancing around the room.  “They’ll probably call ya in the morning some time.” 

Philip slipped the card into his back pocket.  “Thank you, um…”

“George! And don’t worry about it.  We all have had our moments of bad luck.  Well, actually you were pretty lucky you broke down in front of our Inn! If ya kept on going it would’ve been a good forty miles before ya got to the next town.”

Philip nodded, “Yeah. Lucky.” 

“And Ma wont charge ya much for the room, though if you’d ask me I’d say you should stay for free.  This room ain’t worth nothin-”

“Watch yourself Georgie.”  Suzie interrupted, waltzing in with a large amount of blankets in her arms. “I’ll whip this room right back in shape.  Won’t take me long.”  She dusted off a wooden chair with one arm, then set the blankets down on it.  Quickly she turned around, hands on her hips.  “Alright, Georgie, why don’t you show this gentleman the restroom and dining room.” She said, then turned to Philip with a smile.  “Cookies are out at four and dinner at six.  You’re in for a treat tonight, we caught some halibut.”  And with that she turned and practically tackled the quilted bed.  Philip glanced over at George, meeting the man’s dark gaping eyes. George gave him a warm smile and waved him out into the hallway. 

The young man reluctantly followed.  

“Here’s the loo,” George pointed to a door at the end of the hallway,  “You’ll have to share it with a couple, but they haven’t been here much.”  

Philip nodded.  George walked around a corner and down another long hallway that came to the stairs.  Once they reached the bottom George turned back towards Philip.  “Kitchen’s just right here,” He pointed to the left, “And the dining room is on the other side.” He pointed in the opposite direction.  

“Just like Ma said, dinner is at six.”  He glanced down at his watch.  “Speaking of which, I better get started on it.”  He rubbed his hands together and gave Philip a nice smile.  “You can walk around the grounds.  It’s beautiful weather we’re having today.  Most couples won't be around till dinner so you practically have the whole place to yourself!”  He then set his hand on Philip’s shoulder.  “If you need anything, just call.” Then he disappeared into the kitchen.  

Philip took in a slow deep breath, walking into the living room and looking out the large windows.  He wondered if all coastal residents believed overcast to be ‘good weather’.  

“At least it isn’t raining.”  He muttered to himself.  

He looked down into the backyard, noticing the rich dark grass and ferns.  The green beckoned him outside, and before he knew it that’s where he was.  

A small breeze ruffled his hair, the smell of the ocean wafted into his lungs.  He breathed out, taking in the beautiful sight of the waves breaking onto the shore.  A strange thud sound came to his ears, causing him to turn towards it.  Once again it sounded, a sound he couldn’t place.  He followed a rock path that led to the side of the house, and there he found a makeshift shed made out of logs. Again the sound came, and Philip was sure it came from inside the strange cabin.  He walked up to the door, knocking lightly. Just a little pressure on the door caused it to creak slightly open, light spilling out from it.  

He opened it a little wider, peering inside.  

Wood carvings lined it’s walls, tools of all sorts and sizes tossed here and there in a chaotic cluster.  

Again the sound came.  

Philip opened the door wider, taking a step inside, his eyes completely fixated on the wooden carvings.  

“Shut the door behind you, son.”  A voice said.  

Philip nearly jumped out of his skin.

  In this kind of circumstance, he would just exit the building and run for the hills.  But something caused him to do the opposite, and he ended up closing the door instead. He turned back to where the voice came from, and found an old man hunched over his desk. 

The man held an object in one hand and a sharp knife in the other.  Wood chips lay all over the place, covering the table and the old man's clothes.  He turned to Philip, wood shavings stuck in his long white beard.  His eyebrows creased as his old eyes squinted, trying to get a good look at Philip.  “Come for a lesson?”  He grumbled, setting the wooden object down on the desk.  

Philip’s eyes widened as he saw what the old man was carving.  The mane looked as though it was flowing in the wind, and the teeth looked as sharp as they would be in real life.  

“A lion.”  Philip said.  

The old man looked from Philip back down to his creation.  “That it is, son.” 

“You carved it out of nothing.”  Philip said, looking back to the other carved creatures, now seeing all of the animal kingdom on the shelves.  

“Not nothing.  You can’t create something from nothing.”  The old man grunted, turning back to his work.  

Philip leaned against a counter, looking out a large window that faced the ocean.  

“The waves are unruly today, aren't they?” The old man said.  

“I wouldn’t know.  It’s the first time I’ve seen them.”  Philip said, his head feeling hollow. 

“Not from around here then?”  

Philip was silent, still staring at the waves. 

They sat there in silence, the old man carving away at his creation and Philip listening to the wood ships fall to the floor. 

The old man stood after a bit, shuffling slowly to the other side of the cabin and setting down his freshly made creation.  The lion sat at the end of the shelf, next to the window, and Philip couldn’t help feeling that it was roaring at the ocean.  

“How can you make that out of a slab of wood?” He said aloud, more to himself than the old man.  Regardless, the old man heard.  

“Hope.”  He said.  

Philip turned, realizing the old man was standing right next to him. 

“Every chisel, every cut, every nick and nack… You have to hope that it will become what you want it to. Hope that it isn’t just a slab of wood, but something… anything… you want it to be.” 

He lifted his worn down hand, cuts and scars scattered all around it.  He grabbed Philip’s own hand and set something in it, then turned to sit back down, grabbing another slab of wood in the process. 

Once the old man sat down, Philip looked at what was given to him.  It was a small wooden bird, it’s wings spread out as though ready to fly.  

“This is for me?”  He asked.  

The old man takes his knife and starts shaving off the bark from the log.  “You look a lot like this piece of wood, boy.”  Then he turns slightly, “I wonder what’ll be carved out of ya.” 

Philip’s eyebrows crease, and he looks back down at the bird. 

 “Thank you.”  He says, and grabs the door handle.  

“Dinner at six.”  The old man says.  

Philip nods, then walks out the door, slowly closing it.  He looks back down at the wooden bird, then out into the waves.  

His fists clenched tight. 

“What’ll be carved out of me.”

He makes his way down to the shore.