A Novel Idea

The crackling of the logs in the fireplace was the only sound Laura could hear. And she was OK with that. Well, better than OK actually, because it was precisely what she’d wanted, the reason she’d rented this remote cabin for the week.

Her only regret was that the bad weather had made it even more remote than she’d planned. The storm had taken the power lines down, so there was no electricity, phone, or Internet.

She stared at her laptop on the coffee table, wondering whether she dare power it up. If she did, she’d be able to get a few hours’ work done, until the battery died. But then she might need it to contact the outside world, should the electricity come back.

The cabin was 40 miles from the nearest town, and as far as she knew, there were no neighbours nearby. Even if she’d wanted to drive to the stores, it was no longer possible - the only road up to the cabin had been blocked just minutes after her arrival by a minor avalanche.

Looking out of the window, she watched the sun disappear behind the mountain on the horizon, its orange glow dissipated by the light snow that was still falling.

Tomorrow, she determined, she’d go for a look around, and maybe take some photos. But right now, she needed something to warm herself up.

She’d brought along some of her favourite comfort foods, not knowing what would be in the cabin. Soup, she decided, would be perfect, but then she discovered the kitchen stove was electric.

Never a quitter, she found a small pan and managed to balance it precariously on the logs in the hearth. A few minutes later, she was enjoying a bowl of warm broth while sitting under a blanket on the huge sofa.

When she’d set off from home earlier that morning, she’d had no clue what her next book would be about. That’s one reason she’d chosen to disconnect for a few days, in the hope inspiration would strike. But now, ideas were beginning to germinate in her mind, and she wanted to put her soup down and start writing.

Her thoughts were often fleeting, and she was aware they could vanish as quickly as they appeared. But she also knew she needed to finish her supper while it was still hot.

After gulping the last few spoonsful down, she placed the empty bowl on the coffee table then grabbed her notebook - something she never travelled without, not even when she went to the stores.

Half an hour later, she was pleased with herself - she had the basic plot for two novels, which would be more than enough to keep her busy for the week.

***

Laura woke up, shivering, and noticed that the fire had gone out. Her notebook and pen were on the floor, where they had presumably fallen out of her hand when she had unexpectedly fallen asleep.

She looked out the window and saw it was not yet light, then glanced at her watch. It was barely four o’clock - no wonder it was so cold.

Her first job was to relight the fire, which took longer than expected.

Then, after wrapping the blanket around her, she waddled off to the kitchen to get a drink. A hot coffee would have been great, but there was no easy way to boil any water, so she made do with some cold water.

Back on the sofa, she picked up her notebook and tried to make sense of the ideas she’d scribbled down the previous night. By the time she’d worked out what had been going through her mind, she noticed dawn had come and gone.

Anxious to stretch her legs, she walked to the front door, unlocked it, and swung it open.

Immediately outside was something that startled her - footprints in the frozen snow.

How had they got there? Why did they go in only one direction? Who had it been? What did they want?

So many questions, but the one thought that predominated was her safety. She hadn’t believed she needed to lock the door, given the location, but she must have done it by instinct. And she was glad she had.

Worried, she went back inside and locked the door behind her, forgoing the walk she’d planned.

Laura returned to her notebook, trying to make a start on her latest book. But her brain had stopped working - she was too concerned about her unseen visitor.

She went to each of the windows in the cabin and peered out. No, there were no signs of anybody other than the footprints out front.

It was a mystery, and one she probably wouldn’t be able to solve.

She spent the rest of the day alternating between trying to write and checking for any signs of life outside.

Lunch had been another can of soup and a few cookies, but by dinnertime, she was in need of something more substantial. She rummaged in the box of food she’d brought with her and chose a pre-cooked TV dinner. She wasn’t sure how it would turn out on her makeshift stove - a pan on the burning logs - but it was all she had.

Now came the part she’d been dreading all day - going to bed, not knowing whether the stranger would return during the night. She weighed up her options. While she could have lain there, awake and worrying, she decided instead to take a sleeping pill. That way, she might get some much-needed rest.

But first, she double-checked that the doors and windows were all shut and locked, and, to try to stay warm throughout the night, put more logs on the fire.

***

As it happened, it was unnecessary, because by morning she was cold anyway - stone cold dead.

The mysterious visitor had returned while she slept, forced open the door, whose lock was old and rusted, and shot her where she lay.

With the cabin to himself, the man looked around, taking some food for himself from her cache before sitting down and finding, by accident, Laura’s notebook.

He gave it a quick scan, then tossed it back on the table before heading to the bedroom to get some sleep. He’d been hovering around outside the cabin for an entire day now, and he needed both warmth and rest.

***

The murderer was woken by the sunlight streaming in through his window. He knew he’d be OK there for a few more days, but what to do with himself until he had the strength to move on?

He grabbed the notebook once more, found her pen, and began to write: “The crackling of the logs in the fireplace was the only sound that Laura could hear.”