(This flash fiction story was written in response to the photo published in Writer’s Digest, November, 2016)
“C’mon, Lisa, keep up.”
“You’re going too fast, Trevor. It’s steep, the snow is slippery, and I’m cold.”
“I don’t think it’s much farther, Babe. Based on Google Maps, it should be just on the other side of this ridge.”
“So why didn’t your uncle ‘Crazy-Dave’ call you back? Didn’t he ever give you a phone number or even a mailing address?”
“Don’t know. He’s never had a cell phone, he just uses a post office box, but that wouldn’t help us find his house. He’s always been a loner, and always been working on ‘projects’, as he calls them. He suddenly just dropped out of communication right before Christmas.”
“This isn’t even the ‘middle of nowhere,’ it’s on the FAR EDGE of nowhere!”
Trevor chuckled. They trekked up the snowy ridge, panting too hard to talk. At the top of the ridge, they tightened their parkas against the bitter wind.
“I hope Crazy Uncle Dave isn’t too crazy to have a fire going.”
They looked down on a shallow valley with nothing visible but green trees, black trunks, and occasional patches of snow.
“OK, based on the map I printed out, and my memory of my one visit here, it should be straight ahead, about 200 yards. I don’t see any smoke coming out of his chimney. Short term, it will be harder to find his cabin, medium term, he’s probably not home, so no warm fire this afternoon.
“I’m going to be an icicle by the time we get there, and I won’t thaw out until July!”
“I just want to make sure his cabin hasn’t burned down, or he hasn’t broken his leg and starved to death, or something horrible like that.”
“OK, Honey, lead on. What kind of projects does Crazy Uncle Dave work on, anyway?”
“He’s never really finished any of his projects. Last year he was working on a wind-powered machine to generate heat. He tried for years to invent a perpetual motion machine, until I explained to him the laws of thermodynamics and he gave that one up. He’s always interested in energy. Saving, producing, storing.”
“He’d be crazy to not have a fire burning today!”
“In his last email, he said he was expecting an important package from Europe. He said, ‘This one’s a game-changer, Trevor.’ He really came across as excited!”
“Couldn’t he do ‘game-changing’ in Florida, rather than remote Wisconsin? Why couldn’t he build his cabin next to a road, even a dirt road? They descended slowly, holding mittened hands for stability.
Trevor pointed to an enormous white boulder with a black spot in the middle. “I remember that boulder from my visit a few years ago! We’re on the right trail and the cabin is very close!”
“Oh, look, Trevor, he’s put up a fence.”
“That’s not one of Uncle Dave’s fences. He uses split logs only. He’d never do a serious chain-link fence like this. It must have been put up by a neighbor. Why a fancy fence here in the boonies?”
“There’s a sign over there. I’ll go see what it says. Probably ‘No trespassing’, or maybe ‘No hunting.’’
Lisa walked a few yards away, read the sign, and turned back to Trevor.
“Honey, you’d better come over. I think I know why Crazy-Dave didn’t write back any more, and what was in the ‘package’ he got from Europe. I don’t think this ‘project’ worked, either.”
Trevor slogged over to Lisa and looked at the sign. The bright red and orange of the new triangular sign intruded into the black, white and green wilderness.
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