There was a cabin in the center of a grove. Trees like giants. It looked like they were scraping the sky. This cabin sat right in the middle of a small clearing. Tall ceilings. Big porch. Windows everywhere. It was beautiful.
Once a girl found this cabin. It was like finding a gem after picking away at rubble for so long. She quickly settled in. After all, the cabin was empty and looked long forgotten. Also, she had been walking for days and days and days, wandering. It was summer at this time, warm but not too hot.
Although the cabin seemed vacant for quite some time, it was still quite livable.
The girl ended up staying in the cabin for many months. Everything seemed at ease.
However, winter rolled in and quick. A darkness grew over the cabin. The cabin no longer felt like a gem amongst rubble. Nor did she feel like she could enjoy her own company. This new presence felt like it had eyes, and it was staring.
The thing is, the girl liked being alone. She had been alone for some time now. She had decided to leave home due to its bland life and suffocating restraints. She figured her family would understand and forgive her one day. She planned on returning to visit after some time anyway.
Now, with looming shadows over her once bright and beautiful-gem of a cabin, she grew uneasy. As if whatever was here before didn't quite leave. Like an illness never quite left the air, growing thicker and thicker.
Nights grew longer, and shadows seemed darker. No matter how many candles were lit, how much sage was burned, and how many prayers were chanted, the shadows stuck on the walls. The girl began to grow desperate. So she sat on the ground, wrapped in a blanket, stared at the darkest corner in the room, and asked, "What are you doing here?"
And ever so softly, as if a voice crawled through her ears and tickled her brain, it whispered, "You brought me here."
"No, I didn't."
"You have been carrying me for a long time. You just haven't been still long enough to see me, but I have been with you every day and every night."
"I can't keep carrying you. You need to leave."
"You need to let me."
"What do you mean? You're hurting me. I can't rest. You are in every corner of my life looming over me. I don't want you to be here."
"You brewed me before you left. With your heart ache and dissatisfaction. You sat there and let me boil and bubble in your heart. You thought this journey would be over with the miles you've walked and the trees you hid under, but it's not. I am a part of you now. You let me sit with you for so long. I have seeped into your bones. Into your home. You can not escape me."
A chill took over the girl's body. A chill the blanket could not soothe. Shivering and feeling the shadows grow taller, she sat. She sat and stared at the carpeted floor, wondering who would ever put carpet in a cabin, knowing years on dirt have collected. Dirt that is so deep in the fibers, it will never come out. Not unless you scrubbed and scrubbed for days. Not unless you really really wanted the dirt to be gone. As she sat there staring at the dusty carpet, a feeling rushed through her. As if she understood what the shadows meant by, "You let me sit with you for so long. I have seeped into your bones..." She grabbed a candle stick, struck a match, stood in front of the mirror, and said, "I am not my shadows. I am washing you away." She said it over and over and over again until the sun came up. The girl watched as the shadows shrunk down and crawled behind the dressers. Tired, she crawled into her small bed with the blanket that was still wrapped around her shoulders.
Much later, as night creeped in, the corners seemed less dark, and the shadows were not so tall. She felt lighter. She felt free. And as the girl’s days passed and winter melted away, she felt it was time to say ‘goodbye’ to the cabin. As she packed away her life again and prepared for the miles she was going to walk, she said aloud, "Thank you, you have not just given me shelter but have taught me how to build a home, and for that, I will never forget you." She placed her hand on the door knob, then slowly turned it open. She walked with her arm stretched out until her fingertips were the last to leave that cabin door.
It's true that the girl never forgot that cabin or that night. Her shadows like to try and creep back every once in awhile, but she never lets them loom. She never offers them a seat. She just let them pass by. Like a gust of frigid wind.
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