More Fractured Tales stories!
She shivered when her feet hit the floor, and she knew it was going to be another one of those days… bone cold her father had always called it.
Pushing her feet into thick furry slippers, she padded across to the stove and banked up the fire… she would soon need to fetch more wood from the shed.
The old wood-burning stove needed to be fed more often on days like this… and the heat it produced still could not seem to truly warm the place.
She went outside only when absolutely necessary… to clear enough snow to allow opening the door… and getting to the woodshed.
It was quiet now but she knew the wind would return… before the sun went down… just like every day… of every winter since she had been here.
It would sweep down the mountain… through the trees… picking up freshly fallen snow along the way… and whistle around the corners of the little cabin… making it nearly impossible to sleep.
Frost had covered the two windows weeks ago… scraping or breathing on the glass allowed a brief glimpse of the outside… but it soon closed over again…
Strong gusts of wind rattled the panes in the frames… they no longer stopped the draft from creeping in… in spite of the caulking and tape she had applied.
The little house was old but still pretty solid… not even the most destructive storms had shaken it over the years.
But in recent times the wind had been relentless and… seemingly… more powerful than ever.
In the past few weeks, she had felt the place tremble on occasions when the wind howled outside… and it really did howl… there was no other way to describe it.
She imagined it was similar to what a banshee might sound like.
She dressed as quickly as her chilled limbs permitted… while waiting for the whistle of the little tin kettle that told her the water was boiling. This would be another day to huddle under the blanket.
Moving around kept her blood circulating, but it felt like her movements also created a cold draft.
On days like this, she spent most of her time sitting… with her feet up… and her legs tucked under a blanket.
She frequently wrapped her arms around her body as if she could hold the heat inside, but it didn’t help.
Very little was done on days like this… only what was absolutely necessary… and these days seemed to occur more frequently each year… or was it that she was getting older and more susceptible to the cold?
She sometimes wondered if she would still be able to move when spring arrived… or if she would be too numb to feel the increasing warmth of the sun.
On such days she questioned her sanity… wondering why she continued to stay out here every winter.
She wasn’t all that far from town… she could probably find a place to stay… somewhere warm… without drafts… and the incessant wind.
She would be surrounded by unfamiliar walls… flimsy walls that would be the only thing separating her from… the rest of civilization.
She would hear the sounds of civilization… doors slamming… footsteps… voices… and motor vehicles in the street all night long.
Within those walls there would be… any number of unknown persons… lots of them… all strangers… and every one of them an unknown personality.
She was not good with strange or unknown factors… she dreaded change… and the thought of it all sent shivers up her spine.
She knew if her father was here, he would tell her to stay in town… at least during the winters… so she could be warm and comfortable.
And she knew she would be warm… but NOT comfortable… not her!
Oh, it would be easy enough to snowshoe out of here on the next calm day… but she knew herself… and she knew she would not go… would not leave the familiarity – and relative safety – of what she had.
In spite of the cold she would stay… because she could do nothing else… for the alternative was too frightful for her to consider.
But mostly… because she was alone here… and that was what she craved above all else… the solitude… sheer peace and… quiet when the winds abated.
The wind gusts were getting stronger… bending the fir trees… shaking the snow from their branches… leaving them naked and shivering in the cold.
Some days it felt as if the blood was too cold to circulate through her veins… the kind of cold that seeped through into aching joints and bones… her own, and those of the house as well.
Was it just her? Or were the winters getting longer and colder?
Yeah, it was bone cold out there… and not much better on the inside.
Sometimes she wondered if this was how it was meant to be… how it was meant to end…
