The Memoirs of a Messenger - Day 4

The sun is fading and nights are growing longer. A protectorate sends out their final messenger to the capital of the closest territory to find the cause. This is his story, day four.

As wind blisters and tears through what little covering there is left on this body, I dredge through a painfully frozen wasteland in search of respite. These nights continue to get longer, the chief in this protectorate told me daylight might never come back. There has been no news from other territories as to whether or not there is light anywhere else, communication is an arduous process when the only reliable messengers froze out before they ever reached the plains. Not that anyone could know if they were frozen, only one was found this way. The rest may have made it and never came back. The first messenger was found iced over three months ago, all supplies stripped from her body and nothing but the clothes on her back and the letter she was sent with. Temperatures have dropped slowly for the last four months, the snow almost never melts away. Even the few hours of light we have left each day fails to provide any heat. The chief told me I was to be the last sent to the other lands in hopes of finding either my compatriots or the edge of the nights. In the three days I have roved, I have seen neither hide nor tail of anyone. Even some of the citizens on the outskirts have disappeared. Across the expanse of a clearing, I can see a cabin. It is the first sign of civilization I have seen during these cold days. Maybe, if I am as lucky as usual, I will find a suitable pit for a fire.

What used to seem like a simple walk across a field is now an entirely different ordeal. My legs are blocked by three feet of snow, I cannot even tell if I am on actual ground. Step by step, I will trek through this until I reach my goal. Exhaustion will not get the better of me, the hallucinations and snow mirages are already hard enough to fight off. My feet have been wet for a few hours. If it was not for Anora’s boots that she left me before my expedition, I might be walking on blocks of frozen foot. Though they are not above permitting frostbite. It is only to a small degree, but it still hurts like hell. If the wind was wicking by any slower, my tears might have a chance to freeze on my face. Wooden posts sticking out of the ground, I can easily use these to pull myself closer. Dragging my body across the packed snow is a much easier bet than actually trying to walk these last hundred paces. Pole by pole and pace by pace, I have almost made it to the cabin. There are an awful lot of fishing poles on the outside of it for a cabin in the middle of the woods. Regardless, I can see the front door. The first entrance to a warm bed and a fire to sleep by.

The door opens with ease, as though it still has frequent use. A scan of the room tells of no dangers. There are dry logs in the corner, a pile of straw with a blanket next to it. On the opposite side of the pile, the fire place. Thank the gods, now I can get my respite. With little effort, the logs are sparked in the pit and the flames begin to roar and crackle as it tore the wood asunder. Despite the frost on the outside, the interior of this cabin was quite warm. I can take my boots off, dry them off, and warm my feet. First time seeing my feet since I set off. I should probably test that straw to make sure it can actually be slept on.

I took a log and poked it into the straw, it was surprisingly firm in response. All I can hope is that there is not a person in there. A few more pokes and jostling the pile reveals exactly what I feared. This body is preserved pretty well, maybe it will tell me the story of this poor soul’s last moments. 

There are clear signs that this was far from another b*****d freezing to death. No indication of natural cause, but there are no signs of a struggle either. Even the room was practically pristine, as far as cabins in the woods go. Deep stab wounds across the entire front of the torso, deeper scratches down the legs and arms. It looks like this person was chained up on all limbs, posted up and murdered. There is also no sign of a face left. Seems like it was ripped right off of there. There goes trying to identify who this might have been. Well, rest easy in your new grave: outside of this cabin, in the snow. Now, maybe I can enjoy a nice nap before heading back out. As I plopped down into the straw, another stiff form pushes back. There was only one body when I checked the first time, I wonder what this could be.

There is no logical way that this body is here. It has identical wounds to the last one and I cannot reason how this one got here. Just in case, I should probably check outside to see where the last one went. Please gods, let it be there.

To my vapid chagrin, the body is gone. I slam the door shut and gather my things as quickly as I can. I plan on taking this blanket, gods be damned. This little token will go a long way later on. As I reach for it, I notice the body has disappeared again from the straw. I hastily strap my boots back on and ram the door down. I refuse to be taken like this, not by some dead b*****d in the woods. The surrounding area seems unchanged, just as when I came upon the cabin. There is no reason to backtrack, I should head out past the cabin. I need to make it to another town, I have no other option. There are not going to be any more of me to deliver this S.O.S. I have never ran faster through the tundra, I moved like a bull through it. As I look back, I see no sign of another soul following me. Someone must be looking down on me, as my survival almost seems divinely fated. Sunlight is almost upon me again, another day has passed. It seems I have avoided death again, I hope my streak of luck continues.

Author's Note

What do you think of the direction of this? Is it intriguing enough to have you wanting more? Even if you think it sucks, let me know. Just tell me why it sucks, that is all I ask.