A brisk breeze blew through the canyon where the little cabin set. On the miniature deck in front of the cabin stood a tall man with dark completion and a straggly beard. He stood gazing into the forest for the longest time. He turned his head from right to left and back again. Not a sound could be heard accept for the breeze blowing through the trees.
The tall man’s hair, which was long and mostly grey, was blowing in the wind. Frequently with his large hands, he swept his long hair from his wrinkled face and continued to stare.
Without even as much as a warning the big man walked away from the cabin and toward a clearing in the forest where he could see a long ways to the north and the same to the south. As he stopped in the clearing he turned his head toward the south, and began to shake his head. For a few minutes he looked and watched and stared at what was happening in the south.
To the south of his viewpoint the nearby village had began a rapid growth in the direction of the big man’s cabin. It only seemed like days ago when his cabin was the only one out here in this part of the forest. The isolation was serine and the forest so peaceful, but not today because the village is not a village anymore. The big man’s head slumped to his hairy chin and he sighed deeply.
The breeze, which was pleasant earlier, had become a wind storm of great velocity. It was chilly and blustery. The big man stood like a statue for a moment or two his hair flying wildly in the wind. Then quickly he rotated his whole body this time looking toward the north. His countenance changed. His wrinkled face crinkled up into a smile, and he walked several steps from the clearing into the forest.
As quickly as all this began, he stopped in his tracks, and returned to the small deck of the little cabin. He sat down on a little crudely made bench that was placed near the cabin door. The big man covered his wrinkled face with his large hands, and began to cry.
Days have passed, and nights have come and gone yet the old man continues his daily routine. Each evening as night falls he sits on the old bench of the small cabin and cries himself to sleep.
A new day appears, and the big, old man gets up from his slumber and realizes he’s freezing and that winter has arrived. Snow was blowing peacefully in his face as he sat on his homemade bench. He quietly opened the door of his cabin and went inside. He came back out within seconds wearing a warm winter coat.
Just as in previous days the big man walked toward the clearing, but today it would be different. Immediately he began staring toward the north and something caught his eye from the edge of the forest. Yes, something was there, but what was it? The old man walked slowly in the direction of the movement he saw in the forest, and disappeared.
David Erickson
