IMOGENE’S NOTEBOOK
Cabin In the Clear
Fiction
Leaves wafted down as James stepped along the trail, avoiding muddy spots while taking in the autumnal forest’s reds, yellows, and oranges. Now and then, he’d stop and listen to a bird call or the breeze slipping through the treetops.
But other than the occasional chirp or woodpecker’s knock, James had encountered no one and few living things since he set out on this hike at dawn. Isolation is what he’d hoped for when picking this trail. James wanted the solitude of a two-day, overnight trek into the forest, and now that he was embarking upon it, he felt peaceful and filled as he climbed a slight ridge.
Approaching the hilltop, he noticed the trees began to thin along the trail and smelled something — wood smoke. Reaching the top, he saw a clearing. The woods gave way to tall, untamed grass with a few late-season wildflowers mixed in, and in the middle of the clearing sat a small, pristine wood cabin, a faint smoke trail slipping out of its stone chimney.
A house, here, in this forest? James thought. I must be lost.
He slipped the pack off his back and retrieved his trail map. He traced his fingers from where he parked his car along the trail he’d just hiked. There was only one trail, the trail he was on. And yet nowhere on the map was there…
