The Front Door

It was mid January, 1977, and M.J Tarence was shut-in her family's cozy log cabin. A fire was crackling loudly behind her in a stone fireplace with a large wooden mantle above it. Light from the flames flickered violently, flashing orange and red reflections in her eyes as she paced the room.

“They should have been back by now.” She thought aloud, growing more impatient as time went on.

Walking back and forth near the fireplace between the cabins green sofa and ripped brown arm chair, M.J was lost in thought. She had spent all but an hour scanning outside of the cabins front window, watching, waiting to see signs of life, but she could not stare at the blank scenery waiting for their return any longer. It only made her worry more to gawk at the blizzard raging outside.

Instead, she walked the room back and forth, lost in her worries, the wood floors creaking ever so slightly beneath her feet as she paced. Her thoughts of 'worst case scenario's' were interrupted by a sudden rumbling within the cabin. Bubbles began to erupt over a pot on her small cabin stove, sizzling and spewing steam through the openings of the quaking metal lid. She twitched as she took notice of the weeping stove top, and quickly made her way over to remove the pot from the heat. Reaching for the handle, she withdrew quickly.

“Ah, HOT!” She exclaimed, withdrawing her hand.

Boiling water and chopped potatoes fell to the floor with a crash.

“Where are those damn oven mitts..” M.J muttered angrily, holding her hand tightly as she tried to avoid stepping in what was supposed to be their dinner.

Pink blisters began to form on the palm of her hand as she threw kitchen towels and rags on the floor to sop up the mess. Veering to the sink hopping around to avoid the flood in her kitchen, M.J twisted the cold water on. The tap sputtered and whined before clear cool water began to run steadily. She held her burned hand under the water, sighing as she gazed out of the frosted window once again.

“Where could they be.” She thought to herself again, ignoring her own pain.

After her hand was numb from the cold water, she twisted the tap until the flow ceased to a drip. M.J gently dabbed her hand with a towel from the floor that was mostly dry, and wrapped it with a bandage she found in an old rusted first aid kit behind the front door.

Dinner was ruined, her hand was burned, and she was alone.

“What else could go wrong.” Thought M.J.

Walking towards the brown arm chair by warm fire, she plopped down, though not before taking one final glance out the kitchen window. Nothing. Not a soul in sight. Any tracks that were once visible had been covered by strong wind and snow. A blanket of white covered her companions direction, hiding their location from her.

She told them not to go, they had plenty of time to go hunting. Plenty of time to chop more firewood. But they didn’t listen. Why didn’t they listen!

“I told them how unpredictable the weather is up on the mountain,” M.J whined to herself, biting her lip.

“I told them-“ BOOM BOOM BOOM.

A thundering sound interrupted her trickling tears, startling her out of her chair.

BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM.

Again, the banging was coming from the front door. Could it be them? Did they make it back? Her mind filled with new hope.

M.J stumbled around the chair and clumsily climbed over the green couch, attempting to make her way to the front door as quickly as she could.

Upon arrival at the aged and splintered cabin door, she reached her bandaged, burnt hand to the bronze metal door knob. She twisted but it would not turn. Using both hands she tried again, lifting and pulling until the door made a loud crack forcing the ice that was holding her hostage to give way. Yanking the door open she watched as the fresh tracks in the snow in front of her were quickly covered by the wind and fresh snow.

Leaving the door open, M.J frantically made her way to the closet near the brown chair where her winter clothes were hanging. The light outside was fading fast, she had to be quick if she was going to find them before it was completely dark. She slipped on her boots first, tying them quickly. Her white down filled coat was next. She did not bother to button the long jacket, there just wasn’t enough time, even if she might freeze. Next was her grey toque, black mittens and bright red scarf hung loosely around her neck.

Already beginning to sweat from the new layers, she ran back to the open front door.

Looking out, any tracks that she had seen moments ago were gone. The sun was nearly down, but they couldn’t have gone far. Pausing for just a moment, she took a step, creating her own footprint in the white snow. She sunk a few inches into the fluff with each step, but made her way to the edge of the woods about 20 feet from the front of the cabin. She had flames in her eyes, sheer determination made them glisten rather than the cabins blazing fire.

“STEVEN!!! CHARRLIIIEE!!!!” M.J screamed as loudly as she could, resting her injured palm on a nearby pine tree.

“STEVE!!!!! CHARL-“ A gust of wind grabbed M.J’s scarf and blew it off of her nearly knocking her into a large snow drift. In the dark she watched as the red scarf floated and flew through the trees behind her.

In the distance howling wolves could be heard, as if in reply to her cries for her family. It was dark now, M.J stumbled through the trees hugging herself to protect her chest form the wind breaking through her unbuttoned coat.

AWHOOOOOOO.

The wolves were getting closer.

"I can't help them if i'm dead" M.J thought grimly. "I have to get back."

She knew if she didn’t, it was more than likely that she would be dead by morning. If not from the freezing temperatures, then from the wolves wandering closer and closer to her.

Disoriented by the storm, M.J turned in a circle in an attempt to determine the direction she had come from.

“Have to- g-get- b-b-back.” She stuttered aloud.

Teeth chattering, she squinted into the night, trying to determine the right direction in order to get back to the cabin.

A short distance away, the cabin's front door swung violently in the wind, slamming into the side of the inner wall, and allowing a pile of snow to form on the course mat inside, labeled ‘Welcome’.

BLAM BLAM BLAM.

More knocking, unheard by M.J, who was lost in the nearby woods. This knocking was not coming from the front door as before, it was now coming from the cabin’s back door.

BLAM BLAM BLAM.

Ice buildup cracked and in swung the back door to the right of the fireplace. A pile of firewood sitting to the side of the door outside tumbled in front of the entry way. A tall figure covered head to toe in ice and snow lifted a smaller figure, just as covered, over the pile of wood. The larger figure, stepping over the wood stomped his feet on the hardwood floor just inside the door, where his wife had been pacing minutes before.

“M.J!” His deep voice called out, cracking ever so slightly.

The smaller figure coughed and removed his hood, snot and tears frozen down his young face.

“Charlie, go stand in front of the fire.” The tall man ordered.

His eyes darted around the room as he picked up the fallen wood and threw it carelessly on the dying fire, lighting the darkened place.

Scanning the room with his hand on his sons head, his eyes met the open front door. Steven’s heart stopped.

“Daddy, where’s momma?” Little Charlie shivered, turning his face from the warmth of the fire.

Howling wolves answered the boy’s question, followed by a shrill scream echoing in the distance. A red stream of fabric blew gently through the front door, catching on the icy bronze handle. Charlie stared wide eyed, and Steven dropped to his knees as M.J’s scarf waved at him through the cabin’s front door.