Chills

The first chapter of the book Frigid

Cold Story

The cold northerly wind was howling through the frozen tundra that his world had become. As he raised his head from the sitting position he had been in, it seemed to be more frigid than it had been moments earlier. His eyes darted around, surveying the landscape around him as he felt an eerie presence.

It was bitter cold, enough to make his heavy winter jacket feel as if it were made of tissue paper. A thin layer of frost slowly began blanketing the lenses of his glasses. After a moment or two they became opaque, as useless for seeing as a couple of frosted beer mugs.

He tore the freezing glasses from his face and held them at arms length in his gloved hand. “What the hell?” He gasped as he threw them to the ground. A dry wispy laugh rattled behind him. He wheeled around looking frantically about for what could have made that sound. He saw only the freshly shoveled deck of the tiny cabin he had finished earlier that year. “Just in time for winter he thought”.

He raised his gaze to the rooftop and saw only the faint trail of woodsmoke rising from the makeshift chimney. “S**t, my fire!” he thought as he ran around to the front of the cabin. He threw open the door and slammed it shut behind him. As the latch found its home in the door frame, the picture he kept on the wall between the door and the window fell from its nail. It made a crunching sound as it crashed to the floor, etching the pristine glass with spiderwebs. He stopped in his tracks and turned to face the sound. “Damn it!” He exclaimed, “That was my favorite picture”.

He knelt down to gingerly pick up the frame and the fragile nest of broken glass it contained. He stood up slowly, remembering the time that the picture was taken. It was a picture of his family, before the draft had taken him from them. He remembered his father grabbing his shoulder as he slipped the picture into his trembling hands.

“Be strong son”, were the last words he heard from his father before the men in the army fatigues called everyone into the large trucks that had been parked on main street. He crammed in with the twenty others in the truck and they shut the doors on the back. He didn't stop waving until his parents were out of sight.

He placed the picture on the table in the center of his cabin. He pushed the memories aside as he strode over to rekindle the fire from its small clutch of coals. As he poked small pieces of wood into the fire he thought about his time in the military.  

Author's Note

I am not nor ever was in the military.