Nyctophobia

           Outside the windows, there was low visibility. Snow, blown disorganized and angrily, built up an extra layer of wall separating the inside from the outside only letting in a small amount of moonlight. Nonetheless, little flaws in the cabin—small gaps between logs or unsealed edges by windows and doors—still allowed a chilly breeze to lick up against Charlotte’s neck and arms. Behind her, an unimpressive wood heater struggled to combat the dominant temperature. Primarily, it managed to push out a semi-constant stream of hot air which was quickly found to be no match for the breeze. Charlotte sighed, wrapping a well-loved shawl around herself. The edges of the worn cloth draped over the sides of the chair.

           The cabin itself was not much, and only warranted a short stay for anyone else, even in better weather. One twin bed, a bathroom, and a kitchen consisting of two stove tops and a small cooler made up the entirety of the small building. It got the job done, however. Charlotte had a place to sleep, a place to wash, and a place to eat. And work.

           Charlotte sat at a desk pushed into a corner far away from the entrance. This aesthetic decision was made to limit as many distractions as possible. The only object in her immediate perception was the wood of the cabin walls, the wood of the desk, a flickering candle, and her notes, strewn about the surface in organized chaos. Each note was scrawled in handwriting only legible to her, some frivolous and some important, although only she knew how to decipher which was which. To the unlearned eye, the pile just looked like white paper with black scratch marks that vaguely resembled letters, a few numbers, and a diagram. They were only for her regardless. They didn’t need to be neat.

           Charlotte briefly ran a hand across her face before pulling out a clean paper and picking up a pen to write. Pen touched paper and she continued her process, the black marks forming into her personal coherency.

           Then, the light had gone too low.

           The candle on her desk flickered out, the remnant smoke blowing in tandem with the breeze into Charlotte’s face. The weak heat behind her also began to fade until only the fettered cold of outdoors remained. The outside wind roared louder as Charlotte rolled her head over the back of her chair. She eyed the ceiling, dark knots and lines in the wood offering the only stimulation. She took pause.

           At once, an inky shadow began to pull up the empty walls as Charlotte stood and stepped across the floorboards. The sounds of the storm began to quiet as Charlotte moved closer to the heater, but she continued onward, eyes focused on her destination.

           Charlotte grabbed some small pieces of wood from a nearby basket and opened the fireplace door. Only a few sparks remained around the old wood burned beyond usefulness. She placed the fresh wood inside, then sat down to search inside her sweater pocket for her box of matches. The moment Charlotte’s hand touched the small cardboard she remembered the last match was just that. She frowned.

The shadow crept closer. The black washed over all in front of her, covering the little light the moon offered and leaving only the silhouette of the items in her line of sight. She remained mostly still as she sorted through her options, only moving to pull her shawl tighter around her body.

The creature growled deep and quiet, close enough to rattle Charlotte, who compensated by holding even tighter to her shawl. She kept her eyes forward, listening to the creatures steady breathing and feeling the moisture of its breath against the back of her neck.

The wind quieted until the only immediate noise heard was the sound of the creature just behind her. Her mind wandered to her notes mere feet away. Sunrise wasn’t for some time still and the fire was generally a lost cause. She quickly began to regret the position she had chosen to sit in, but movement was the last option. She could only remain still.

The creature mirrored her stillness, only letting out slow breaths and quiet growls, waiting for Charlotte. With no other choices, the mirroring became mutual.

Charlotte greatly wanted to get back to her work. Of course the lights would go out then of all times. No other time would make sense, Charlotte knew. She felt she had fallen on track for an important breakthrough when her candle suddenly flickered out. Charlotte closed her eyes in an attempt to return back to her train of thought. She could write down her notes once the sun began to rise and she procured some other means to start the fire. The creature growled at her slight movement.

 This following silence was all consuming. In her thoughts, Charlotte searched for the smallest sounds; a bathroom faucet dripping, or a loose door creaking from the cross-breeze, but nothing. Her body compensated by highlighting her bodily noise—her breath, the wash of her heartbeat against her eardrums, her stomach that would remain hungry. The creature made no noise beyond its little snarls. Despite its signs of life, it offered no warmth, only proximity. To feel anything other than cold, Charlotte’s shawl struggled to keep in her body heat.

Charlotte thought of the woods. Tall trees bearing the harshest of winter weather stretched on for miles in either direction. Some time back, a tree had fallen not far from her door, apparently giving up.

A heavy weight suddenly pressed into Charlotte’s back. She immediately recognized the cool, smooth texture of the mass making contact was the creature. It was not hostile, only just making contact. Whether it was offering a place for Charlotte to lean on, or had gotten tired itself was unclear. Perhaps they were leaning on each other.

Charlotte opened her eyes, surprised at how keeping them closed somehow made her surroundings feel less dark. In front of her, she managed to make out a small, dying ember in the back of the fireplace. She blinked slowly.

“I wish we both could leave.” Charlotte spoke barely above a whisper. Just then, the smallest gleam of sunlight peaked through the windows.