Mase didn't know what they expected to find in the little old log cabin. It was their father's, a place they'd spent a lot of time in as a child, making an annual trip each summer. It had been a long time since they'd last visited, as a matter of fact— it had been a long while since anyone had visited the little log cabin. Mase wondered if it was still there, when no one was around to see it. Did the vacation home take vacations of its own? Maybe it had its own little log cabin somewhere in the tropics. A silly thought, they were sure, but one they'd entertained since childhood. They laughed softly to themselves, picturing the weathered edifice in a straw hat, Hawaiian shirt, and sandals.
They shook their head, reassuring no one but themselves that houses— and by extension, little old log cabins— couldn't take vacations. The cabin itself was nestled within the California redwoods, in a little clearing surrounded by not so little trees that kept watch from on high. The trees paid little attention to Mase as they picked their way over the trail, which had, without anyone to maintain it, become covered in a thick layer of duff from the trees above. Surprisingly, nothing grew along the old trail— it'd been years since it was last walked, and Mase had prepared themselves for the possibility that the trail would be completely overgrown by now— but it was still clearly visible.
Mase took in a deep breath, the fresh air filling their lungs and calming their nerves. This was something they'd taken for granted in those days long gone. They took their time, enjoying the trail as their made their way towards the cabin. They thought back to how, when they were little, their father would challenge them to a race— whoever reached the cabin first, won. They would, of course, always win— their father lagged behind, simply wanting some time alone to enjoy the serenity of the redwoods. They wished they'd have appreciated it then, perhaps they could have walked together, in complete silence.
Mase closed their eyes and imagined this for a moment as they walked. The wind would rustle a branch every now and again, and one of them would ask if the other had said anything— but they hadn't. They'd smile, it wasn't funny enough to laugh at— but it was certainly an amusing interaction. Finally, they reached the clearing where the cabin was built, and opened their eyes.
Yet there was no cabin. In its stead was a rectangular patch of dirt. Mase stood still, staring at the patch for a moment in complete confusion. Had they taken the wrong trail? Surely not— they could walk it in their sleep, and in fact— had done so in their dreams for many years. The land was owned by their family— none would dare demolish the cabin. So, where had their little old log cabin gone? They knelt down and sifted through the patch, looking for signs of the cabin— finding a brightly colored postcard in its very center.
The postcard had the words "Greetings from Costa Rica" in bold red and blue on its front, floating in front of a topical beach. They turned the postcard over, to find that someone had left a message on it. It read;
"On vacation, terribly sorry, please come back next summer."
-The little old log cabin
This was beautifully written and much expected from this world. Really liked the memorial walk Mase had as they walked through the redwood trees and reminiscing on the past. It felt real to them and to the reader.
You are welcome to explore Nimenra, a world in conflict between Humans and Demons.
My summer camp articles and half-finished pledge document: Summer Camp 2022
Thank you for the kind words!