|
From an opening line...
Silently the door closed on the night. If the door had had an option it would have done so about an hour before. The wind though, not being in agreement with the door, held off its breeze; or merely blew its winter chill in another direction. The door, still wondering why it had been open on this unforgiving night, was now content with its recent readjustment and set its attention to the man. Whom, before falling asleep, had left the door ajar to allow the small cabin a breath of fresh air.
The fire in front of the slumbering man was dying down, giving its last breaths of its magnificent life. The bricks that housed the once raging fire were finally able to relax; and happy with there lot in life, settled down to rest with the man. Beside the man, on the floor below him was his dog.
The dog was a yellowish brown with patches of grey. The man did not know what kind of dog he had, but to him it did not really matter. The dog did its job. It retrieved the birds that the man shot down, it barked when a bear was near and most importantly it lay beside the man when he slept. Giving him a comfort and security that reminded him of his mother. Waking up between dreams the man would glance down at his pet and be happy, falling asleep once more to the sound of the dog’s heavy breathing. The dog also would occasionally stir in his sleep and he would also take a glance at his companion; looking up at the man the dog felt safe. Together their breathing fell into sync and the man and his dog slept through the night.
In the morning the dog woke to the sound of the door objectively being opened by the man. The man and the door gazed out together at the wind. The door, having just woken from a dream where it was once again a tall oak, was slightly angry, and with the help of the wind protested to the man by slamming closed. Leaving the silent figure to observe the wind and the day in solitude.
It’s a fine day for a walk, the man said to no one in particular. The door heard, but was still a little pissed from having been woken from its nostalgic dream, and in response to the comment shrugged and went back to sleep, unsuccessfully trying to grope at the remnants of its dream.
The man stood in defiance head on into the wind, it’s just you and me today wind, he muttered to himself. He walked around the small rectangular cabin till he reached the opposite side where there was a small shed to match the small cabin. There among the depleted pile of wood was his axe. Picking it up and swinging it over his shoulder, the man left the shed and walked back around the cabin to the front door. The only door. From there he set out to do the days work of collecting firewood.
The day went by quite uneventfully for the dog and the door and the bricks. The dog lay around for the most part of the day, wondering what it would be like to be the man. 'In my next life I think ill be a human' the dog said to himself. He got up twice during the day, the first time to get a drink of water out of his special bowl and the second to stretch his legs and relocate himself on the mans couch. 'I'll just keep it warm for him' the dog said to himself. The dog often talked to himself; it gave him something to do during the long days when the man was gone. The door and the bricks didn’t say too much.
The sun descended in the early sky as it always does in the winter. The moon rose into the sky as it always does at night time. And as always, the man returned from his day abroad.
The door welcomed him warmly, with a friendly creak. The dog affectionately let out a little bark and ran lovingly through the legs of the man. Saying hello in its own little way. The bricks were still asleep from the night before. The man let out a tired sigh as he collapsed onto his couch. Immediately regretting the sigh and the collapse, for there was not yet a fire in the sleeping bricks that made up his hearth. He rose and left the cabin, only to return with an armload of wood from the day’s labours. He went about resurrecting the fire and when it was again alive and magnificent, he sat back on his couch. He pat his dog and the dog was happy. The door, feeling the heat from the burning fire was also happy and the bricks, returning from their slumber wished they’d never fall asleep again.
__________________
Xeres
|
