The Cabin

I wake up in the cabin. I see the ice has started to fall, I see the windows frosted, and as I watch the evergreens through the window I see a blue eyed figure in the edge.

I always used to see him, when I came here with my father to fish, he always spoke to me, trying to convince me he was human. I always knew deep down he was one of them, one of the ones whom nested under the ice, but I always smiled and would say, "Yes, what else would you be?" He would smile back and kind of chuckle saying, "I don't know, but you look at me as if I am something else." Then as his kind crystal blye eye winked in the sharp breeze he would slowly walk back in the evergreen woods and disappear from my sight.

   I always used to talk to him and watch the strange way his eyes would search and always stay alert and vigilant. Whenever I would ask what he was searching for he would respond "I am looking for something all men have but don't realize it's worth, I am looking for a soul." I never understood what that meant. I never knew why he would look for something he already had, if he was a man like he said. When I asked what he meant by that he would show a kind expression and pronounce, "I feel as though mine is lost, or if it was never there at all", as he let his wandering eyes rest on his palms. I would of course, like any child, ask more questions, but always get deep and confusing answers. I knew not what true emptiness was then, that's what he said he felt without soul. I always wondered if he had no soul how he was so gentle and humane, like a human, who possesses a soul. 

   I saw him many times sitting with birds and deer, even once a caribou, just sitting, and watching, and searching, for a soul. He was kind. Many times he brought me gifts such as flowers and oddly colored stones. He was also curious. Many times I would bring him inside my dad's cabin and he would look through the windows at the pines and the falling ice, many times he would inspect small objects like bottles and cans whilst commenting on their writing and materials, and many times he would just enjoy the warmth and comfort of my little home. 

  My dad was gone fishing and to the village alot so I had time to get to know the blue eyed boy who I had watched through the pines. He was around fifteen or so when I was seven or eight, I was the only one he had to talk to, and he was the only one I had, and we made good friends. He would take me to small creeks in the forest and show me small animals like rabbits and badgers running toward their burrows and dens, he would show me owls nest's and places where bears or wolves have before nested, and my favorite, he would show me where he called home. He took me to the field of ice, and not far from the place my dad always set up fishing, we would stop and look down through the narrowed part of the iced lake. I could see a small place where the black fish circled and the water looked lit up through their fins. He would tell me that's where his family lived, where he stayed, the place he called home. 

  I asked him many times if he was a siren, he would always chuckle and smile, saying, "I live under the ice in a cave where the water is kept out by a layer of natural glass that is thousands of years old. I don't actually live or breathe in the water, so no, I am a human, like I have told you, but I have no soul, and I can endure harsh temperatures." I always wondered what his home was like inside, if it had furniture or if it was just rock and sand, I asked once and he responded, "My family and I don't have the furniture or food or supplies you do. We have small beds made of furs, we we collected from animal carcasses which we found , and we eat berries and vegetables which we grow. Our clothes are from furs, skins, or leathers we find from recently deceased animals." I didn't understand why he didn't eat fish or water birds like my father and I did, but he told me his civilization didn't believe in violence and only ate things they grew or collected. Therefore, his family followed their ways. I always knew he was from a completely different world than I was, but I guess that's what made us so interested in one another.

   That was many years ago, before my mother made me move in with her in a large, loud, and unfamiliar place in the city. I moved in when I was nine and left immediately after I turned eighteen. The city life never grew on me I guess. I missed the cold and the snow and the old cabin.            When I returned I was thrilled to see my old friend glaring at me from the pines. This time he was different though, I could see a incredible sorrow in his eyes. I could see his face was ghostly white, and his silver seal coat soaked in crimson blood. 

   He limped out of the woods toward my cabin before collapsing about halfway there. I ran out to assist him. Then with the same kind face he had always had, he smiled saying, "It's been so long", before blacking out. When he awoke, his first words spoken were, "I missed our talks", with that same warming smile he had always given me. I smiled back then focused my bright amber eyes on his shoulder where a bullet lay surrounded by gushing blood. As I rested my arm near the wound he cupped my hand into his saying, "Don't worry.” Then he steadily pulled the ammo out with his fingers making only a small grinding noise with his teeth. I wrapped the wound in gauze and he put his coat back on, brushing the now dried blood off of the fur. "That's a nice coat", I said, trying to break the silence. "It was made, and traded to me, by my enemies",he announced with his voice, for the first time sounding emotionless.    When I asked him who his enemies were he responded, “The very same men your father traded with, my family's crops were dying and the berry bushes were wilting also, so I proposed we try to trade with the village, I thought it was safe. So I went to them and told them of my situation, I told them that all my crops had died and the berries were dying also. I told them that my family and I had found no carcasses in months, and that we had not even seen any birds in the past week. He said we could trade. He said he knew who I was and 'although I found that suspicious' I gave into his commands and told him where my family nested. He gave me this coat and a bundle of vegetables wrapped in a deer skin bag. He told me this was a 'peace offering' which I did not understand. I made my journey home at the fastest pace I could but when I got there I could see blood staining the snow near the entrance. I walked inside to find my mother and father lying there, arrows in their chest, and a scrap of a fur vest lying there. The one from the trader I had met." He let his head rest back on the wooden rocking chair he was perched in. "So how did you get shot?", I asked, watching his eyes move under his closed eyelids. "I watched the man ride away on his black steed. Then another man came from behind me and shot me with his musket.Do you remember when I told you I was looking for a soul?" 

   I waited a moment, trying to make sense of the question. Then questionably answered, "Yes". He looked satisfied with my answer and pronounced, "Well the thing with a soul is that if it's in the right hands it can be...well refurbished I guess. It can be turned from evil to kind, or from kind to evil if the one whom possesses it so wishes. So I thought maybe if I could get the trader's soul, I could possess it and turn it to a kind soul." As confused as I was, I asked him, "I see where you are coming from on this matter, but won't that change you?" He knew there was a probability, I assumed by his face. He stared blankly at me and spoke, "I assume there is a chance, but I needed to inform you before I left. Thank you for helping me, old friend." He then walked out the door into the blizzard toward the village, never to return to my old cabin, never to show me his kind smile which had now faded away.

    I like to think he got his soul. That he's the same he has always been, but in my heart I feel as though they saw him coming. That they pulled out their guns. I never saw him again, in the fifty years I've lived here, but I'll always treasure the gifts he gave me.