Superstition

by
Dave T. Dyson

Cold was bartered for wrath, the moment Joshua lifted the latch from its slot
The motion broke a layer of ice that had formed over it. Joshua felt the biting
cold recede from the waker air inside his one room cabin. He welcomed the
muffling of the driving wind that swirled around outside when he finally
closed the heavy oak door behind him. Making an unusual arrival to his cabin
after dark. He had developed over the years a keen sense of direction and
location that kept him from getting lost in the vast wilderness that he now
called home. If he hadn’t learned this skill he would have faced certain death
years ago. This country was not forgiving to those that do not respect its
power nor learn from their mistakes.

As he mentally traced his steps in the darkness to the shelves nailed onto one
of the walls, his hand reached for the lower shelf searching for the box of Blue
Tip matches that he always kept in the same spot. It was a ritual that he had
repeated numerous times when he returned in the dark to his cabin. Habits
are hard to break sometimes even though you could make things easier if you
did. Every time he picked up the box of matches, he would turn and walk a
few paces to the oversized kerosene lamp he kept on the now rickety card
table. He would always remind himself while performing this ritual that it
would be so much easier, not to mention safer, to place either the matches
next to the lamp or the lamp near the matches. Maybe someday he would
give it a try.

His only source of heat in this 18’ x 18’ wooden shack was an old-fashioned
pot bellied stove. Long since the last time it was attended, it was now cold
and lifeless. It was strategically positioned just about in the center of the
shack to allow it to distribute its heat evenly. Joshua normally kept the
kerosene lamp roughly in the middle for the same reason as the stove. It
works better. It was the only lamp he needed to fill the cabin with enough
light. The rocking chair was draped with bears skins and other smaller pelts
he kept for himself instead of trading them. His life at home comprised
mostly of reading, writing, or nodding off in the chair. During this time of
year you normally hunkered down until the spring thaw.

Before enjoying a prolonged time of rest in his chair, Joshua had to continue
with his routine after coming in from the outside world. The lamp produced a
healthy flame that always brought a slight smile of acceptance to his face.
Then the old trapper repeated his now automatic ritual of stacking kindling
and then the larger pieces of wood in the old stove to supply the cabin with
the precious heat Joshua depended upon daily. It probably would be a bit
longer than usual tonight before he could peel off is outer vestments and gain
freedom from their preventing him free movement. Joshua wouldn’t survive
very long in this cabin usually being just a little better then a sieve with the
clay soil he used to fill the gaps between the logs of the walls.

With his eyes gradually adjusting to the subtle light, his eyes lighted upon the
sand bag he used to cut down the draft from the bottom of the door. This
small shelter has been his home 4 years more than the 10 he had planned to
stay. It wasn’t as easy as he first thought after reading the adventurous yet
romantic story from the north when he lived in the states. To work the fur
trade in this virgin land seemed ideal for his personality and desires. The
amount of animal skins he could trap wasn’t enough for him to go into the
feed supply business he had dreamed about for all these many years. He
would have to work the land just a little bit longer to realize that dream. Ever
since he helped his uncle back home in Arkansas when he was eleven, a
yearning for the trade business had been woven into his dreams then. Funny,
how dreams tend to ease the hardships of life. Even though they are usually
only placebos for the soul Joshua thought they were better than nothing at all.
How else could you reconcile this hard, life sapping business that makes you
age twice as fast as normal?

He heated the cold, long winters that seemed to go on forever and when they
did finally turn into cool summers, it wasn’t long before the cold chill of the
night hinted of winter’s return. For the last few years, Joshua knew in his
heart that he would probably never leave to follow those dreams. This type
of life has been in his blood too long. Joshua knew in the back of his mind
that the plans and dreams which were once alive, were now for a younger
mans future, not his. It was getting easier to accept this life; the memories of
those warmer days faded more and more as these long cold nights dragged
on. Memories fading of warmer days numbed his feeling for anything
different now.

He thought how everything he owned was right here in this small wooden
shelter. This was all that represented his accomplishments in this life. The
scant furnishing that adorned his abode from the rocking chair he had carved
himself down to the now fraying hammock hanging from the two slightly
crooked wooden poles in the southern corner. The hammock was a gift from
the Chief of the local Cree Tribe who befriended him so many years ago. It
was woven by one of the women of the tribe using earth tones mingled with
bright strips. He was told what they represented but he long ago forgot what
they were.

The tribe now accepted him as a brother. He was unique in the tribe’s eye
when it came to white men. He didn’t act or talk as other white men did in
the past. Joshua was willing to accept and respect what they believed in.
This wasn’t always the case though. He came to consider these quiet people
who live off the land with respect for it. They felt the spirits of the land were
willing to share in its bounty as long as you took only what you need to live.
The bear necessities Josh needed to live could be counted on one hand. He
was content with these small amounts of possessions. He felt this was just
and proper for a man he had become. This was home now. Not quite as
grandiose as those in the nearest town three hundred miles away, but it
served his needs just fine for now.

As Joshua went about the final stages of settling in, the hair on the nape of his
neck stood on-end as if he felt a chill akin to that when you’re expecting a
surprise or fearful of what might be on the other side of a door. It didn’t feel
like the kind you would experience from one of those many drafts that come
and go.

The door was secured along as well as the two small windows. Before the
first snow fell, he made sure the windows were covered with canvas and
caulked around the edges with wax. They were all sealed. In these parts,
you couldn’t leave any passage for the deadly cold outside to get in.
Insulating as best you can, may make the difference between life and death,
especially if your fire goes out night in the night. If this happens, you may
never wake up the next morning. Maybe he was getting a slight cold he
thought. That was a distinct possibility. It’s been awhile since he had one.
He hated getting colds and would do anything to avoid them. He was having
such a devil of a time making ends meet this season. It would be his luck to
be cursed with a cold to boot.

Joshua thought about the two animals he found waiting for him in his traps
that day. This day was the finale to a very disappointing week. It’s going to
be a longer trapping season than he hoped for. You can never be predicted
how each week would end up. Up here you don’t know what the weathers
going to do. Like this storm ending up being the worst he’s seen for as long
as he can recollect. Josh’s hopes for an early spring have all but been
crushed. All he could hope for was for better results and decent weather next
week.

Removing his large fur coat still dripping from the snow and ice that clung to
it, he hung it prominently on it’s resting place; the wooden peg sticking out
from the back of the door.

He slowly unlaced the high fur boots with callused his callused fingers. The
dry air and cold have cracked the thick skin to the point where any bending of
them causes annoying pain. The climate made Joshua looked as old as he felt
as it did with all the inhabitants of the North Country. The boots ended up
under the belly of the stove as he continued to take off the remaining pieces
of his protective wrap.

By the time he was finished taking off his outer-shirt, sweater etc. (but not
the skivvies… he never took these off until well in the spring), a considerable
pool of water had accumulated underneath his coat hanging less rigid now.

Now that his desire to sit in the rocker is coming closer to fruition, Joshua
spent the rest of his depleted energy pulling over his head the last remaining
vestige of outer clothing, his eyes focused on the queer arrow shaped knot in
the central beam of the roof. As he had done so many times before when he
noticed it, he reflected on the curious way the wood assumed that “Indian”
shape. He thought it was funny that he hadn’t noticed it when he laid the
beam as the final piece of the roof supports. This beam was the critical part
of the roof. He had gone over it at leased three or four time for faults and
weak points to make sure the wood could handle the stress he knew it must
during the snow filled winters.

Joshua picked up the pen lying next to his journal while seating himself in his
rocker and entered his new inventory of pelts to the ledger. The light from the
lamp gave off enough illumination for him to finish entering his figures but it
wasn’t enough to reach the shadowy corners of the cabin. The ledger never
quite showed how many more skins were needed to be free financially and
physically from this cold hell. That depended on the price he could fetch from
the traders down south. A lot of times, the money barely covered the cost of
his trek and after buying much needed supplies like sugar, and kerosene.
Soon the pen was replaced in his hand by the yellow bowl pipe he packed
with the now stale pipe tobacco. Even though he tried his best to seal it up, it
always failed to stay fresh until spring when he could replenish his supplies.
As the smoke rose from the pipe, Joshua reviewed the columns on the sepia
tinged pages in the hopes of discerning the answer he constantly hope to
acquire.

Feeling the warmth of the stove penetrate his feet protruding closer than the
rest of his body, Joshua suddenly felt a noticeable chill run down his spine.
Being close to 50ºF below zero outside, he accounted it as the last bastions of
winter giving up its grip. Looked like he better get ready for a miserable next
few days near the stove seeing that there was no end in sight for this storm.
“God what a feeling”! He never felt a cold come on this way before if that
was what it was. He thought briefly about it before turning his attention back
to keeping his pipe lit and the journal.

In some ways his small familiar surroundings offered Joshua a feeling of

security and warmth much like an invisible shroud wrapping around him and
buffering him from the stark brutality that raged outside. Out of the corner of
his eye, Joshua caught for a very brief moment an odd fuzzy haze compelling
his attention to be shifted from the journal in the direction of the spot. He
saw a faint glow of light you might mistakenly take as a shadow being cast
into the shadowy corner. He stared at it for a moment before his mind
started trying to come up with a logical explanation for it’s sudden
appearance. Maybe his eyes were feeling the effects of whatever he was
coming down with. Possibly the stove formed a crack the let some of the
firelight seep through. Maybe something reflective was lying just so to reflect
the lamps glow.
Damn, getting a cold is going to reap havoc in his life for the foreseeable
future he imagined. This is only the beginning. The only pampering that he
could allow himself would be to have a cup of tea. Joshua preferred tea to
any other hot beverage because of how easy and quick it was to make. All
you needed were a few things; the tea, a kettle, a cup, melted snow for the
water, and honey. Joshua lifted the kettle of water from the cooler edge of
the stove were it served as a humidifier to the middle to get it boiling. The
stove proved to be his most valued asset. It was used for the most important
thing right now and that is to stay alive with its heat and serving as his
cooking stove for his meals. He could survive without anything for a long
period of time. He’d be dead within hours without the stove.

The tea and pipe were just about the last remnants of his past life. He hung
onto these indulgences even down to warming a cup with hot water along
with the teapot before steeping the tea. This ritual helped justify the
exorbitant price he had to pay to acquire it at the trading post. When he
made his rare trips to the town, it was sometimes impossible to get so he had
to make sure he stocked up just in case they didn’t have any available when
he came down. Of course you ran the risk of the tea loosing its flavor.
Fortunately, it stayed fresher than the tobacco did for the same amount of
time.

After going through his preparation process for the tea, Joshua sat down
again in the rocker and before picking up the novel he has read so many
times before, he stared at the flames in the stove as they danced and licked
the inside of the top before he casually turned his sight over to the dark
corner where the faint glow caught his attention before. He was surprised to
see that what was once a very faint glow seemed to have increased a bit in
size from when he saw it before. Maybe he just didn’t remember the correct
size or whatever was causing the glow had changed position He didn’t think
it was that important to spend a lot of time on it. He really wasn’t that
curious nor produced it nor did he want to invest the energy.

His mind started to quickly tick off all the possibilities of what could product a
light if indeed his eyes weren’t playing tricks on him before he dropped it. A
piece of metal stuck to the wood reflecting the lamps light possibly? Was it a
drying crack in the wood of the wall letting some of the light from outside in
ever so slightly? That may explain the chill he felt too. Suddenly, a loud
creak emanating directly above him startled his thoughts away from the wall
to the beam above. This was due to the roof compensating for the ever-
increasing amount of snow it had to support.

Moments later, the kettle on top of the stove began to start its soft low
whistle that would grown ever louder if it was removed from the heat. Well, it
was time to be civilized for a while. The time had come to relax and be
refreshed for the morning. After settling in his rocker with the tea place on
the table to his right, Joshua took a moment to just look again at the strange
glow before resuming his book.

Joshua found himself almost in a trance staring without thought at the surreal
aberration. What had begun as a faint fuzzy glow was not morphing ever so
slowly. Now the light took on the shape and size of a small circle with the
perceived texture of a cotton ball. It looked as if it was a soft light being
projected onto the wall behind it from some non-existent source. But it was
really on the wall, it seemed to float in front of it. It didn’t show any
movement that you would expect it to do if it was something smoke. Nothing
that made sense came to mind while he looked at it. Fatigue prevented him
from getting out of his rocker and going over there. Again, that chilling
feeling ran down his back.

Continuing to stare at the glow, he realized that the shade was still changing
and growing. From the round fuzzy haze, it now started to elongate itself into
a growing figure. It was impossible to make out any defined features, but
definitely was a shape that began showing hints of a human silhouette. Was
this shape developing the signs of an Indian ceremonial headdress? His
imagination was running wild with ideas. Kina like the days when he looked
up at the clouds with his best friend Tommy and pretended what the shapes
of the clouds were.

This triggered in him tales he heard on the many occasions he stayed with
the Cree Tribe. Many an hour were spent after dinner listening to the Chief
and the other elders of the tribe stories of past events and beliefs they
handed down orally from generation to generation. He, in turn, told them
about the world he left so many years ago.

He remembered one particular story told by Tunka who served as the

medicine man for the tribe and was one of the elders on the council. The
Indians of Canada believed that the departed Chiefs came back when the
time came to claim braves for their tribes in the afterlife. It wasn’t a
question, Tunka would say, of proving yourself worthy enough to belong or
even by your status in the tribe. The spirits knew the true worthiness of a
brave from what they saw in his heart. The spirit chose you; you did not
choose your path in the afterlife.

As long as the Cree people could remember, they would prepare all of their
braves that attained the age of 40 for acceptance by the departed chiefs.
They did this in the hopes of arousing the past chiefs interests in them and
look upon them favorably. If one of their braves were chosen, this would
bring great honor to the tribe and guarantee a fruitful hunting season that
year. This belief lived on and still held sacred by the more remote bands of
Cree roaming the northern sections of the territory. When Joshua first came
to this area, he could only respect his own Christian upbringing thought very
lowly about these pagan ideas and rituals.
While transfixed on the form taking shape in front of him, his mind started to
start analyzing things again. Why did the memory of the claiming of braves
come to mind? Did the shape remind him of the mental image he formed
when listening to the stories? He named this tale “the calling”. He kept track
of the hundreds of stories that way. Connecting one with another in the same
general categories. Joshua tried to purge these thoughts from his mind and
turn his attention to his book. It was preposterous to believe these tales. It’s
funny how strange your mind works when you’re coming down with
something while being completely exhausted. While he tried to concentrate
on the familiar words on page eighty-nine of his book, the thoughts of “the
calling” kept creeping back in his mind while visualizing Tunka’s face.

What sense does it make for him to get so edgy by this thing forming? He
wasn’t an Indian. He had become on integral part of this area and with these
people even to the point of taking part in their ceremonies. He acquired many
of their skills and made the most of the resources as they did. He had more
in common with them now then he did with his own kind in town. He was
accepted as a blood brother by the tribe but that couldn’t possibly mean
anything. Another chill tingled down his back making him shutter.

The snow started to taper off a bit outside and a noticeable absence of the
deadly wind. This fact would have been immediately noticed if it wasn’t for
him focusing on what was forming in front of the wall. His mouth began to
open slightly as if he couldn’t breath through his nose any more. Now
overcome with an uneasy feeling that started to well up from his stomach,
Joshua mustered the necessary strength in his arms and lifted himself up
feeling the muscles protest to the activity.

Even though he stood up, the rest of his body seemed to resist moving what
so ever. Standing in front of his rocker, Joshua could only stare for what
seemed an eternity, at the cloud that was now taking on a more defined
shape faster than before. No logical explanation could provide a reason for
that which he can see right in front of him. Was he hallucinating? He wanted
to move, to do something but he couldn’t. He could just stand there and
watch the cloud like object continue to change and grow. He was snared in
an invisible trap that wouldn’t let him move.

How long he stood there staring at the cloud he couldn’t tell. Suddenly, he
realized that the cloud before him was taking on the definite form of an Indian
chief. No doubt about it. This realization caused Joshua to be able to take his
mind in a new direction. His instincts told him he had to do something. He
cursed out loud at the mannequin cloud evolving before him hoping it would
just disappear.

Reaching over to the table on his right, Joshua grabbed a clay platter his
teacup rested upon and threw it dead center at the cloud. The plate went
through the image and shattered into chunks on the wall behind it. The form
didn’t even show any signs of disturbance during. That fact in itself caused a
feeling of alarm ring out in his head. The noise of the crashing plate echoed
briefly while Joshua’s senses processed the situation. He now knew in his
heart this figure was fatalistic somehow. He reacted the only way he knew
how.

In what seemed like a seamless flow of motion, Joshua grabbed his pants
hanging over the railing, pulled them up with his left hand while he positioned
his right to pull the straps over his shoulders. After accomplishing this Joshua
reached for his drying boots while the rest of his body lowered itself towards
the rocker in preparation for putting them on. He cursed under his breath as
his feet defied entry into the boots caused by the moisture that still dwelled
inside them. His feet couldn’t slide in as easily as normal. Any thoughts of
his reaction to this seemingly harmless apparition as being hysterical and he
overeating did not matter now. He was not going to sit around and wait for
God knows what to happen or not. He knew he had to get away from this
thing. While busily lacing up his boots, Joshua ignored the creaking noise
above his head.

The environment that he once thankfully sought relief from was now offering
him salvation he thought. Again he heard a crack. This time he couldn’t tell if
it was the beam, his rocking chair, or the wood in the stove that made it.

It was only a few steps to the door where he could grab the fur coat still wet
from his last venture outside. The coat though still wet from before was not
difficult to put on. The sleeves were big enough to offer quick penetration.
He buttoned the jacket, donned his facemask and began to tie the hood
securely under his chin.

He was now finally ready to leave the warm shack and its menacing figure.
Joshua reached for the latch that kept the door securely shut but forgot to
push the sandbag at the bottom of it out of the way. It became jammed
under the door as he pulled the door open with more strength than he would
normally use. At that moment, his safe, warm home had now become in his
mind a place of untold danger. The sense of safety was replaced with
impending doom.

Suddenly, this feeling of doom was replaced with gratitude because Joshua
forgot his gloves that had been lying next to the pants drying. His hands
would suffer frostbite without them. As he turned to gather his hat, his
curiosity compelled him to want to look again towards the figure.

He felt a bit of relief from the grip that overwhelmed him knowing that safety
was only a few feet away. “I’ll come back after a while” he thought thinking
that this would disappear once he left the cabin. Now he began to doubt his
gut instinct. How could he have gotten himself so worked up over this, a
cloud, vapor, or whatever it was? Was it his mind playing tricks on him? He
realized as he calmed down a little that he could feel the blood in his head
bang against the inner ears. This wasn’t like him. To find being caught up in
such fear and sense of dread was ridiculous.

It probably would be a good thing to face your fears and see if you can
negotiate your feelings. If only he could look again, he would see that it was
really nothing at all. It was harder than he thought it would be to again fix his
gaze in that direction.

“Sweet Mary mother of God!”, Joshua muttered as if evoking out loud a

phrase that might have helped ward off this Indian figure. Joshua’ heart
started to beat faster than he thought possible as more adrenaline was
dumped into his system. The sweat that he generated with his hectic
activities began to roll down his forehead. The assurances of normalcy that
he had hoped for were quickly dashed and were replaced with the former fear
he felt when he saw the figure before. There were many occasions when he
had seen the full ceremonial dress of his friend the Chief. Now he was seeing
it again right in front of him.

The initial instinct to turn immediately and flee flooded quickly back. There
would be plenty of time to try and think clearly once he was outside. Turning
towards the door, he heard another much louder crack coming from the area
of the beam above where the arrow like knot was located. Against all his
good judgment, he looked up. This instinctual movement sealed his fate. He
realized too late what danger those cracks were telling warning him about.
Because his muscles were so tired and sluggish to respond, the precious
moments evaporated.

The center beam of the roof at the knot buckled towards the floor with the
wood splintering as it opened away from itself letting the snow follow it down
towards the earth. As Joshua tried in vain to throw himself towards the
doorframe for shelter, one of the pieces of the center beam fell upon his back
and shoulders pinning him securely to the floor. There was nothing around
him that could have taken some of the weight from the beam and snow
before it hit him. The card table along with all of its possessions collapsed
under the weight of the roof and snow. The kerosene lamp shattered into a
sheet of flaming color that covered both the snow and exposed wooden
materials that comprised almost the entire structure and its contents. The
wood started to burn in spite of the presence of the snow. Enough of the
cabin was spared being buried by the snow occupying mostly the center area
of the cabin. Joshua tried to concentrate on getting up but realized his legs
would not move. He also realized that if his legs were caught he should feel
the pressure and most likely a lot of pain. He felt nothing. This fact hit him
like a hammer causing him to cry out in anguish as this horrible realization
mixed with his emotions. He was paralyzed! He knew also that the beam
and other debris pinned him down and his attempts to move himself with his
arms were futile.
The snow had been heavier than he thought causing the cabin roof to buckle
under the weight. Smoke was beginning to swirl around him. It was eerily
quieter than normal Joshua thought. The stove was hissing like a steam pipe
would produce from the snow melting on the cast iron frame. Strange how
these two elements, fire and water, which he depended upon so much for his
survival, now were competing to see which would claim his life as their prize.
As the cold began to numb his face and the light snow settle upon him, his
breathing became shallower and less frequent. Peace began to replace the
manic fear that filled him just moments ago. Wiping the dust filled water
from his eyes, he thought how wonderful and grateful he would be if he were
indeed only coming down with a cold.

With the combination of cold and snow enveloping his body Joshua peered
above the debris and stared through the hazy smoke. He could see the fire
progressing ever slow slowly through the bear areas of the shack. It would
take long before the entire frame caught on. Joshua looked to where the
opaque figure was. It wasn’t there any more as far a he could tell. It was
hard to make see through the smoke. He vainly tried to tug at his legs with
his one free hand. He didn’t try very long. His strength was being sapped by
the cold.

As the elements from outside engulfed his upper body, the heat of the fire
below the collapsed structure warmed his waist but nothing below that.
Joshua rested his head on the cold wet floor and closed his eyes. Maybe if he
rested a little and cleared his head, something would come to him. Scenes
from the last few minutes past played themselves over and over again in his
mind. He tried to analyze what had happened. The snow must have been
heavier than usual today don’t you think? Why didn’t he notice the
significance of the cracks from above? Was it his imagination he should
blame? Was he too tired to think straight? Why, why, why….

The sound of crackling wood mingled with the hissing sound of the boiling
snow began to fade in his ears. As the welcoming feeling of sleep overcame
Joshua, he relinquished the thoughts that occupied his mind. A light snow
began to softly fall again but with the absence wind. His eyelids flickered
with the light snowflakes landing upon his lashes. He didn’t want to try and
move any more, he just wanted to rest. Any remaining discomfort from the
cold was gone now. The warmth of the fire nearby became hotter and hotter
but only at his waste. That must be the part of his body exposed on the other
side of the beam keeping him immobile.

As the cold and fire inched ever so closer to their goal, Joshua slipped into a
dreamlike state. There was no need for answers now. Those answers
wouldn’t do him any good. As all thoughts slowly ebbed out of his
consciousness, Joshua heard what he perceived to be a faint but distinctive
voice. Even though it was faint, it conveyed wisdom and a level of peace.
“The council is waiting to welcome you”. Was this his imagination trying to
bring comfort or hope to as he lay helpless? That also didn’t really matter
now. Maybe later it would, but not now. Now it was time to rest. Rest and
wait for the only way it could end. That’s all Joshua could do now was wait….
rest and wait.