And None of Them Said a Word

The boxes piled all the way to the ceiling in some parts of the cabin. What felt like hundreds upon thousands of boxes filled with documents and forms and various other scraps of information took up most of the space in the already cramped two room cabin.

The snow had been falling solidly for the past two days, the power went out three days before that and still hadn't returned. It didn't matter though. There was plenty of work to be doing that would keep her occupied through the cold, dark days.

The only time she left the cabin was to collect firewood from the adjoined shed, and to periodically clear the snow from the doorway so she wouldn't get trapped inside. Now, she stood with her back to the fire, wrapped in her sleeping bag and a mug of hot water held close to her face. She'd rationed herself to one cup of coffee a day, so as not to run out before the snow thawed and the boxes were cleared and she could finally leave this silent hell.

She thought about what life would be like once all this was over, how everything would be peaceful again. She'd found there was a difference between peaceful and silent. This cabin was silent, but it wasn't peaceful. She'd always found snow beautiful, now it felt like it was trapping her, trapped with all these boxes that sometimes whispered their words to her in the middle of the night. She'd lost track of how many documents she'd read through and sorted. Information flowed around in the back of her mind that she couldn't comprehend. Dates, people, places; she sat in that cabin and tried to piece together a person from all these boxes. She threw another log on the fire, grabbed one of the battered brown boxes and set to work.

14.12.93 - Tax return of the year

17.03.05 - Hospital prescription note

9.05.99 - Vehicle Insurance form

The white daylight faded quickly, and soon she was working by the light of the fire, and the few candles and torches she had left. The fire spat away to itself, and she was grateful that there was something else in the cabin to break the silence other than the shuffling of paper. The snow had stopped falling, but the temperature fell further and further as the night drew on. The cabin was always cold, even with the fire blaring. The heat bled right through the uninsulated roof and walls and was sucked out into the night.

Slowly, she rose up from her place at the fireside and stretched her aching body out. She boiled the kettle again for more hot water, then stood at the window and looked out over the frigid night.

The window pane was gently brushed with frost, the moon outside lit up the crystals of snow and turned the land into a shimmering, glittering lake. The moon itself was so bright she could see shadows being cast in the silver night, and a white halo hung around the celestial body.

She didn't know how long she stood there for. There was nothing in her vision to measure time with, the landscape remained unchanging and silent, almost as if it was holding it's breath. And here she was, in her tiny, cold cabin, surrounded by fragments of another persons life they were too disconnected to piece together themselves.

She wondered if there was anywhere in the world where noise still existed. Somewhere, there must be people laughing, there must be people screaming. But they were so far away from her now she couldn't even imagine it.

It was just her, the cabin, the boxes and the snow.

And none of them said a word.