From a Cabin in the Middle of the Mountains: Part 2
I finally had some time to work on this whoohoo \o/ I apologize for being so late, I realize how obnoxious that is. Hopefully some of you are still interested.
Anyway, here's part 2 out of an undecided number of chapters. This is a bit short, but I'm planning on writing more tomorrow.
Thanks for being patient with me!
Frank’s eyes fluttered open. For a moment, he had no idea where he was and a sense of panic overtook him, but then he remembered the hazy, muffled events of the previous night. Too comfortable to move much, he glanced around. His vision was clear again, he noted, but his breathing still had a broken-glass edge to it and his throat burned like a motherfucker. He winced and put a hand to his neck as he took in his surroundings.
The room he was in was small and square, with reddish-brown wood that seemed to cover everything. Most of the space was occupied by two enormous, billowy armchairs and a crumbling brick fireplace. To his left there was a small window where just a beam of light poked its way into the cabin. He could see swirls of white twirling in a mad dance just outside. Clearly the blizzard was still going strong. All in all, the cabin wasn’t too remarkable, save for the wall to the right of Frank’s chair. It was occupied by the most massive bookshelf Frank had ever seen. The entire wall was crammed full of books of all shapes and sizes, and they were the good kind of books- the slightly used and dog-eared kind that smell like they belong to a person, not a factory.
Frank loved books. He stretched out his fingers as if to make one of them fly to him, not wanting to leave the warm burrow he’s made in the sea of quilts. He let his arm drop weakly and gazed despondently at the books. So close, yet so far. Groaning in an irritated way, he dragged himself out of the armchair, except Frank’s weary legs were not having that and rebelled by completely falling out from underneath him. He went down in an avalanche of arms and legs and soft puffy fabric and embroidered kittens and muffled, raspy swear words.
Frank tried desperately to free himself from the blankets, which had quickly gone from a comfortable haven to a fucking death trap, and was flailing around wildly when Gerard came running in.
“Is something wr…” And then, catching sight of Frank being consumed by quilts: “Oh.” He let out a short, unintentional giggle, the kind generally made by 12-year-old-girls. “Uh, do you need help with that?” Frank gave him with his best laser-eye-death-glare, hoping it would burn a hole right through his chest, because seriously, this wasn’t fucking funny, he was being eaten alive and the guy was just standing there smirking. Gerard’s eyes went wide and he held up his hands as if in self-defense.
“All right, all right, sorry, not funny,” he said as he held out a hand to Frank. Sighing, Frank grabbed it and pulled himself to his feet, wobbled and would have toppled back into the quilts had it not been for Gerard’s rigid grip on his hand. He gripped the chair tightly, supporting himself.
“Thanks,” Frank mumbled. Gerard just sort of hummed in response and rocked back and forth on his heels. He looked extremely uncomfortable.
“So,” Frank said after a significant pause, “where am I?”
“Hickory Mountain,” Gerard replied, glancing shyly up at him, “more or less. That’s the town that’s about ten miles away. If you don’t mind my asking,” he added as he traced the wooden floor beams with his toe, “how the hell did you end up all the way out here?”
“Hiking,” Frank said. “Got lost.” He felt the familiar tickle in his throat, and sure enough, a couple seconds later he was coughing again. Figured. The red-haired man just raised a worried eyebrow and waited for the coughing to subside. “I didn’t really tell anyone where I was going… I know, I know, it was stupid, but I didn’t think I would be gone for that long, and then the storm set in and I couldn’t see a thing… oh my God,” he stopped suddenly. “My family. I didn’t tell anyone where I was going… fuck. Listen, do you have a phone or something I can use? I have to let them know I’m okay.”
Gerard shook his head sadly.
“No phone here. Nearest one’s at the general store a few miles down the mountain, and I hate to tell you this, but there’s no way in hell either of us is going out in that.” He gestured out the window, where the ice and snow were still beating relentlessly against the glass. Frank rubbed his temples tiredly.
“Any idea how long this storm’s supposed to last, then?” he asked. Gerard frowned.
“The guy on the radio said days, maybe.”
“Oh. Wow,” Frank whispered. Days. Days. Gerard’s hesitant voice brought him out of his reverie.
“Hey, do you want some food or something? Something… not meat, I guess,” he said.
“Yeah, that would be… that would be nice,” Frank said. “Thanks, man.” Gerard gave him a tiny almost-smile and headed into the kitchen. Frank watched him go, then sighed and looked around the room again. If he was going to be here for days, then he figured he might as well get used to it.
Anyway, here's part 2 out of an undecided number of chapters. This is a bit short, but I'm planning on writing more tomorrow.
Thanks for being patient with me!
Frank’s eyes fluttered open. For a moment, he had no idea where he was and a sense of panic overtook him, but then he remembered the hazy, muffled events of the previous night. Too comfortable to move much, he glanced around. His vision was clear again, he noted, but his breathing still had a broken-glass edge to it and his throat burned like a motherfucker. He winced and put a hand to his neck as he took in his surroundings.
The room he was in was small and square, with reddish-brown wood that seemed to cover everything. Most of the space was occupied by two enormous, billowy armchairs and a crumbling brick fireplace. To his left there was a small window where just a beam of light poked its way into the cabin. He could see swirls of white twirling in a mad dance just outside. Clearly the blizzard was still going strong. All in all, the cabin wasn’t too remarkable, save for the wall to the right of Frank’s chair. It was occupied by the most massive bookshelf Frank had ever seen. The entire wall was crammed full of books of all shapes and sizes, and they were the good kind of books- the slightly used and dog-eared kind that smell like they belong to a person, not a factory.
Frank loved books. He stretched out his fingers as if to make one of them fly to him, not wanting to leave the warm burrow he’s made in the sea of quilts. He let his arm drop weakly and gazed despondently at the books. So close, yet so far. Groaning in an irritated way, he dragged himself out of the armchair, except Frank’s weary legs were not having that and rebelled by completely falling out from underneath him. He went down in an avalanche of arms and legs and soft puffy fabric and embroidered kittens and muffled, raspy swear words.
Frank tried desperately to free himself from the blankets, which had quickly gone from a comfortable haven to a fucking death trap, and was flailing around wildly when Gerard came running in.
“Is something wr…” And then, catching sight of Frank being consumed by quilts: “Oh.” He let out a short, unintentional giggle, the kind generally made by 12-year-old-girls. “Uh, do you need help with that?” Frank gave him with his best laser-eye-death-glare, hoping it would burn a hole right through his chest, because seriously, this wasn’t fucking funny, he was being eaten alive and the guy was just standing there smirking. Gerard’s eyes went wide and he held up his hands as if in self-defense.
“All right, all right, sorry, not funny,” he said as he held out a hand to Frank. Sighing, Frank grabbed it and pulled himself to his feet, wobbled and would have toppled back into the quilts had it not been for Gerard’s rigid grip on his hand. He gripped the chair tightly, supporting himself.
“Thanks,” Frank mumbled. Gerard just sort of hummed in response and rocked back and forth on his heels. He looked extremely uncomfortable.
“So,” Frank said after a significant pause, “where am I?”
“Hickory Mountain,” Gerard replied, glancing shyly up at him, “more or less. That’s the town that’s about ten miles away. If you don’t mind my asking,” he added as he traced the wooden floor beams with his toe, “how the hell did you end up all the way out here?”
“Hiking,” Frank said. “Got lost.” He felt the familiar tickle in his throat, and sure enough, a couple seconds later he was coughing again. Figured. The red-haired man just raised a worried eyebrow and waited for the coughing to subside. “I didn’t really tell anyone where I was going… I know, I know, it was stupid, but I didn’t think I would be gone for that long, and then the storm set in and I couldn’t see a thing… oh my God,” he stopped suddenly. “My family. I didn’t tell anyone where I was going… fuck. Listen, do you have a phone or something I can use? I have to let them know I’m okay.”
Gerard shook his head sadly.
“No phone here. Nearest one’s at the general store a few miles down the mountain, and I hate to tell you this, but there’s no way in hell either of us is going out in that.” He gestured out the window, where the ice and snow were still beating relentlessly against the glass. Frank rubbed his temples tiredly.
“Any idea how long this storm’s supposed to last, then?” he asked. Gerard frowned.
“The guy on the radio said days, maybe.”
“Oh. Wow,” Frank whispered. Days. Days. Gerard’s hesitant voice brought him out of his reverie.
“Hey, do you want some food or something? Something… not meat, I guess,” he said.
“Yeah, that would be… that would be nice,” Frank said. “Thanks, man.” Gerard gave him a tiny almost-smile and headed into the kitchen. Frank watched him go, then sighed and looked around the room again. If he was going to be here for days, then he figured he might as well get used to it.